Ronnie grinned. “Yes, I know.”
He left his father then and swung off toward the village. He’d been there only a few minutes when he saw two men approaching. One of them was carrying a transit. They set up the transit on a level spot at the top of the east side of the gap. One man stayed with the instrument, while the other climbed to the other side of the stream and held up a long measured stick. Ronnie went over to him. “What’re you doing, mister?”
“Surveying.”
“I mean, how come you’re surveying?”
“Because the boss sent me here, that’s why.” He looked over at the boy and saw that Ronnie was more than just idly curious. “Well, it seems there’s going to be a meeting tonight and the boss wants some figures about whether it’s possible to build a cofferdam across this gap,” he added.
“Do you think it can be built?” Ronnie asked—and held his breath while he waited for the answer.
The man looked about him, examining the narrow valley with its steep, tree-filled slopes. “Sure,” he answered. “Of course, that’s only my opinion. Now beat it, kid. You’re taking my mind off the job.”
Despite the heat, Ronnie began to run. He felt light all over. His feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. The dam could be built. Now, if only the Seaway would agree to have it done. If the meeting tonight was a success, he vowed, then there would be nothing more he could ask for.
He broke out of a thick clump of hemlock saplings and came out on the riverbank just as his brother swung himself off the fallen tree trunk on the end of their “ducking” rope. Phil arched out over the water with his legs curled up against his body and then, letting go, dropped like a bullet. He came up sputtering and spitting water and brushing his hair from his eyes.
“Come on in, Ron!” he yelled.