“If he comes again, may we see him to make sure that he is really this Nick Jasniff?”
“Certainly, Porter. If you are anywhere near, I’ll hold the man at the office, or wherever we happen to be, and send for you and Morr.”
Dave and Roger were now working under the directions of Frank Andrews. In the gang were two others—a young man named Larry Bond, and an elderly engineer named Hixon. All had become well acquainted and were good friends. Hixon was from the West and had spent many years of his life on the cattle ranges and in the gold fields.
“I was a prospector for six years,” he once declared. “But, believe me, it didn’t pay. Sometimes I struck it pretty rich; but then would come long dry spells when I wouldn’t get a thing. All told, I didn’t do as well, year in and year out, as I am now doing at regular wages.”
Andrews’ gang, as it was termed, had some work to do at Section Five of the proposed line, the work, of course, being preliminary to that which was to be made on the erection of the bridges to be built. This was in a decidedly rocky part of the territory, and the young civil engineers and the others had no easy time of it making their survey.
“Some different from sitting in your room at Oak Hall working out a problem in geometry, eh?” remarked Dave to Roger, after a particularly hard climb over the rocks.
“I should say so,” panted the senator’s son.
“You look out that that chain doesn’t get away from you,” cried Dave, pointing to the long coiled-up steel measure which the other was carrying at his belt. The real civil engineer’s, or surveyor’s, chain is largely a thing of the past, the steel measure having taken its place.
Frank Andrews and the others were at a distance and young Bond was wigwagging his signals across a deep cut in the hills. Now Dave prepared to signal in return, at the same time holding up his leveling-rod as required. Roger attempted to climb around on the rough rocks, and then suddenly uttered a cry of dismay.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dave.