"Well, if you don't want to think so; but I know it. Look at this dam: not over two feet thick and expected to hold tons of water. Wait till a flood hits it. Will it go out like a stack of cards, or won't it? And they're not using enough cement; one-fourth only with the sand."
"Grouting, broken stones," growled Mr. Hooper.
"Not sufficient, as you'll see. And does anybody want to say that a two-inch pipe is going to run a water wheel with force enough to turn a generator that will drive thirty or forty lights? Bosh!"
"They ought to know."
"You think they do, but have you any proof of it? What they don't know would fill a libra—"
"How 'bout that there triang—what you call it? They knew that."
"Oh, just a draughtsman's smart trick; used to catch people. I'm talking about things that are practical. You'll see. I'll bet you these blamed fools are going to strike a snag one of these days, or they'll leave things so that there'll be a fall-down. But what need they care after they get their money?"
Bill heard footsteps retreating and dying away; Mr. Hooper went over to
Gus and, with evident hesitation, asked:
"Do you reckon you're makin' the stone work thick enough? It does look most terrible weak."
"Sure, Mr. Hooper. Bill'll explain that to you. Professor Gray and he worked out the exact resistance and the pressure."