“He’s not too feeble to take his share of the unpleasant jobs along with the rest of us,” Vorse answered, unfeelingly. “I shall have him in here first thing in the morning and tell him what’s happened and what we’ve done and what he has to do.”
“Sure,” said Burkhardt.
“Well, that’s agreeable to me,” Sorenson stated, looking at his watch and rising: “Time we were turning in, if there’s nothing more.”
At the dam camp Meyers, the assistant chief engineer, and Atkinson, the superintendent, were still awake, smoking and talking in the office.
“I smelt enough booze on those fellows who came stringing in here to fill the reservoir,” the latter was saying. “Some one’s feeding it to them.”
“Nobody drunk, though.”
“No. But who’s giving it to them and why? I asked one fellow and he said he’d been to a birthday party, and wouldn’t tell where. They were all feeling pretty lush, even if they weren’t soused. And to-morrow’s Sunday!”
“They’ll all be idle, you mean?”
“Sure. If there’s more liquor, they’ll be after it. All day to drink in means a big celebration. The whiskey is sent up from town, of course, and I reckon sent just at this time to get us all in bad while Mr. Pollock’s here.”