“I never saw any one at that old tumble-down house before, Martinez,” Weir remarked, lessening the speed of the car. “Always supposed it empty.”
“No one does live there. The ground belongs to Vorse, who leases it for farming to Oterez. Perhaps Oterez is giving a party there. They are dancing.”
Weir brought the machine to a full stop, with suspicion rapidly growing in his mind. The place was owned by Vorse, for one thing, and the number about the house was too large for an ordinary Mexican family merry-making, for another. In view of what had occurred the previous night all “parties” in the neighborhood of the dam deserved inquiry, and this house was but a mile from camp.
They could now hear the sound of music, the shrill quick scrap of a pair of fiddles and the notes of guitars. Against the fire-light too they could distinguish the whirl of skirts.
“Just run over there, will you, Martinez, and have a look at that dance?” Weir said. “See how much whiskey is there, and who the people are.”
The Mexican jumped down, climbed through the barb-wire fence bordering the field and disappeared towards the house.
“I told you about some one giving the men booze last night,” the engineer addressed his remaining companion. “We found the place off south along the hills where that business happened, and stationed a man there to warn us if another attempt was made to use the spot. But I 221 shouldn’t be surprised if this is the location used for to-night; it has all the signs. We suspected that this evening would be the real blow-out and if the men are going there I shall send down the foremen and engineers to break it up. Vorse’s owning this house and his being the source of the liquor is almost proof. I met Atkinson returning to the dam when you sent him back from town and he’ll know something is up if the workmen have been melting away from camp. This is simply another damnably treacherous move of the gang against us to interfere with our work, starting a big drunk and perhaps a row. We’ll stop it right at the beginning.”
“Are the officials of this county so completely under Sorenson and his crowd’s thumbs that they won’t move in a case like this?” Pollock questioned.
“Yes.”
“Then we must act on our own initiative, as you say.”