“It’s the casino and other attractions down there I’m afraid of. If you had some older man you could trust to look after Jake, one would feel more satisfied.”
“Well,” said Fuller with a twinkle, “there’s nobody I know who could fill the bill, and I’m not sure the older men are much steadier than the rest.”
He stopped as a puff of smoke rose at the lower end of the ravine and moved up the hill. Then a flash of twinkling metal broke out among the rocks, and Ida saw that a small locomotive was climbing the steep track.
“She’s bringing up concrete blocks for the dam,” Fuller resumed. “We use them large in the lower courses, and I had the bogie car they’re loaded on specially built for the job; but I’m afraid we’ll have to put down some pieces of the line again. The grade’s pretty stiff and the curves are sharp.”
Ida was not bored by these details. She liked her father to talk to her about his business, and her interest was quickly roused. Fuller, who was proud of her keen intelligence, told her much, and she knew the importance of the irrigation scheme he had embarked upon. Land in the arid belt could be obtained on favorable terms and, Fuller thought, be made as productive as that watered by the natural rainfall. It was, however, mainly because he had talked about finding her scapegrace brother employment on the work that Ida had made him take her South.
As she glanced at the track she noted that room for it had been dug out of the hillside, which was seamed by gullies that the rails twisted round. The loose soil, consisting largely of volcanic cinders, appeared to offer a very unsafe support. It had slipped away here and there, leaving gaps between the ties, which were unevenly laid and at the sharper bends overhung the steep slope below. In the meantime, the small locomotive came nearer, panting loudly and throwing up showers of sparks, and Ida remarked how the rails bent and then sprang up again as the truck, which carried two ponderous blocks of stone, rolled over them. The engine rocked, sparks flashed among the wheels as their flanges bit the curves, and she wondered what the driver felt or if he had got used to his rather dangerous work.
As a matter of fact, Dick Brandon, who drove the engine, felt some nervous strain. He had applied for the post at Kemp’s suggestion, after the latter had given him a few lessons in locomotive work, and had since been sorry that he had obtained it. Still he had now a room to himself at the shed where the engine was kept, and a half-breed fireman to help him with the heavier part of his task. He preferred this to living in a hot bunk-house and carrying bags of cement in the grinding mill, though he knew there was a certain risk of his plunging down the ravine with his engine.
The boiler primed when he started and was not steaming well. The pistons banged alarmingly as they compressed the water that spurted from the drain-cocks, and his progress was marked by violent jerks that jarred the couplings of the bogie truck. Though Dick only wore a greasy shirt and overall trousers, he felt the oppressive heat, and his eyes ached with the glare as he gazed up the climbing track. The dust that rolled about the engine dimmed the glasses, the footplate rattled, and it looked as if his fireman was performing a clumsy dance.
By and by he rather doubtfully opened the throttle to its widest. If the boiler primed again, he might knock out the cylinder-heads, but there was a steep pitch in front that was difficult to climb. The short locomotive rocked and hammered, the wheels skidded and gripped again, and Dick took his hand from the lever to dash the sweat from his eyes.
They were going up, and he would be past the worst if he could get his load round the curve ahead. They were half way round when there was a clang behind him and the engine seemed to leap forward. Glancing over his shoulder as he shut off steam, Dick saw the fireman gazing back, and a wide gap between the concrete blocks and his load of coal. The couplings had snapped as they strained round the bend and the truck would run down the incline until it smashed through the sheds that held the grinding and mixing plant at the bottom. He saw that prompt action was needed, and reversing the machinery, gave the fireman an order in uncouth Castilian.