CHAPTER XXIII
THE CLAMP
When work began next morning, Jake asked Dick if he should order the peons to search for the clamps that had held the guard-rail.
“I think not,” said Dick. “It would be better if you looked for the things yourself.”
“Very well. Perhaps you’re right.”
Dick wondered how much Jake suspected, particularly as he did not appear to be searching for anything when he moved up and down among the broken concrete. Half an hour later, when none of the peons were immediately about, he came up with his hand in his pocket and indicated a corner beside a block where there was a little shade and they were not likely to be overlooked.
“I’ve got one,” he remarked.
When they sat down Jake took out a piece of thick iron about six inches long, forged into something like the shape of a U, though the curve was different and one arm was shorter than the other. Much depended on the curve, for the thing was made on the model of an old-fashioned but efficient clamp that carpenters sometimes use for fastening work to a bench. A blow or pressure on one part wedged it fast, but a sharp tap on the other enabled it to be lifted off. This was convenient, because as the work progressed, the track along the dam had to be lengthened and the guard fixed across a fresh pair of rails.
Taking the object from Jake, Dick examined it carefully. He thought he recognized the dint where he had struck the iron, and then, turning it over, noted another mark. This had been made recently, because the surface of the iron was bright where the hammer had fallen, and a blow there would loosen the clamp. He glanced at Jake, who nodded.
“It looks very suspicious, but that’s all. You can’t tell how long the mark would take to get dull. Besides, we have moved the guard two or three times in the last few days.”