Instantly recognizing the new sound—one that should not have been given—he broke into a shout:
“Stop that water! Stop it!”
The man guiding the nozzle waved a hand to some one stationed back on the hill, and the stream was shut off.
“Get the hose out of the way, boys,” he said sharply. “We won’t need it this afternoon.”
The men frowned, but offered no objection. They reluctantly recoiled the hose, and began shifting the sandbags. While this was in progress, Macmillan strode up. By this time, Nash had finished with his observations in the conduit and had climbed to the rim, where he was removing his boots.
“What’s this?” asked Macmillan, aware that something out of the ordinary was going on. “What are they coiling up that hose for?”
“I ordered them to do so,” calmly replied Nash.
“You did? Well, I like your nerve! What in Sam Hill have you got to say about testing this conduit? I asked you to come here and start operations. Now you do the very opposite thing.”
“I wouldn’t have ordered the men to stop if I didn’t think it necessary, Mr. Macmillan.”
“Is that so?” the other sneered, hands to his hips. The laborers had gathered around and seemed to be enjoying the argument.