“Light marching order is the word,” Larry cautioned after the store-room and its supplies had been thrown open to them. “It will be at least two miles, the way we’ll have to go, with some pretty stiff mountain climbing, and every pound of weight we can cut out will count.”
What they took out of the supply stores were a few dry-battery cells, a coil of light cotton rope, two coils of the lightest insulated copper wire, and a field set of telephone instruments. Dick was for taking two sets, in case one should go bad on them, but Larry vetoed that.
“No,” he said; “we’re going to have plenty to lug as it is. That wire is going to weigh a thousand pounds before we get it where we want it, and, besides, there’s the grub to come, yet.”
Barney Daugherty, the camp cook, filled their haversacks for them; hard-tack, sliced ham and some beans cooked in the can. As a final addition to the outfit, Dick slung over his shoulder the field-glass his father had given him, and the auto-truck was once more headed for the canyon portal.
Arrived at the end of the driving possibilities they tumbled out of the truck and the foot carry began. As soon as they shouldered their loads they found out what they were in for. The wire, which was the chief part of the burden, weighed like lead. But at the first turn in the gorge they were met by one of the linemen whom Smith had sent down to help them, and they were mighty glad to divide with him.
Reaching the crossing place at the two boulders they found Smith ready for them. He had had his men cut down a few more trees to make practicable foot-bridges, and a temporary telephone terminal had been rigged under the shelter of the northern cliff.
“Quick work,” said the young wire boss approvingly, after the transfer had been safely made. “How many men do you need to help you climb out of the canyon with this stuff?”
“None,” said Larry promptly. “This is our job, and if we can’t put it over without crippling your gang, we’ll cry quits, eh, Dick?”
Dick said, “Sure!” and Smith laughed.
“That’s the proper spirit,” he said. “I’m short-handed, anyway. I’ll station somebody here to do the ‘listening in,’ but the field job’s all your own. Go to it, and good luck to you.” And he went back to his wire-stringing on the opposite side of the gorge.