"Yes; and the men like him. But the work is terribly wearing on both the boys. And the third calamity arrived last night. The dipper-handle broke."
"The dipper-handle? On the big dredge? Sally Lou, how dreadful!"
"Yes, it is dreadful. It means, of course, that twenty of the laborers will stop work and enjoy a vacation at the company's expense while the new handle is being made and put in. Luckily the boys have one set of duplicate chains and timbers, and the company blacksmith is wonderfully capable. But it will cost the company a lump loss of a thousand dollars. Imagine, Marian, how those poor boys will groan when they make out their week's reports for President Sturdevant. 'One fire. One delay and two cave-ins, due to non-appearance of district inspector. One strike. One smashed dipper-handle.' Think what a dismal task the writing of that report will be!"
"Don't let me hear any more croaking, Sally Lou," came a wrathful voice from the door. "For we're facing the worst smash yet. What do you suppose this telegram says?"
Sally Lou shook a small fist at the yellow slip in his hand.
"Don't you dare tell me that it's some new misfortune!"
"Two of 'em. That lordly, gloomy grouch, Mr. Ellingworth Locke, acting president of the Central Mississippi Association, is headed for this luckless camp. He's on his way up-river this identical minute. With him comes Crosby. Crosby, consulting engineer for the whole Valley Association. Coming on a tour of inspection, if you please. Just think of the lovely job that they have come a thousand miles to inspect!"
There was a stricken pause.
"President Locke! That—that potentate! Ned, you don't mean it! And Mr. Crosby, whose word is law on every question of engineering!"
"And they're coming to-day! To 'inspect' this soaking, miry, half-baked camp!"