CHAPTER XV
LEVELS AND SLANTS
At sunrise the next morning Blake screwed his level on its tripod andset up the instrument about a hundred yards away from the ranch house.Ashton held the level rod for him on a spike driven into the foot ofthe nearest post of the front porch. Blake called the spike abench-mark. For convenience of determining the relative heights of thepoints along his lines of levels, he designated this first "bench" inhis fieldbook as "elevation 1,000."
From the porch he ran the line of level "readings" up the slope to thetop of the divide between Plum Creek and Dry Fork and from theretowards the waterhole on Dry Fork. At noon Isobel and Mrs. Blake droveout to them in the buckboard, bringing a hot meal in an improvisedfireless-cooker.
"And we came West to rough-it!" groaned Blake, his eyes twinkling.
"You can camp at the waterhole where Lafe did, and I'll send Kid outfor that bobcat," suggested the girl. "You could roast him, hair andall."
"What! roast Gowan?" protested Blake. "Let me tell you, MissChuckie--you and my wife and Ashton may like him that much, but Idon't!"
"You need not worry, Mr. Tenderfoot," the girl flashed back at him."Whenever it comes to a hot time, Kid always gets in the first fire,without waiting to be told."
"Don't I know it?" exclaimed Ashton. "Maybe you haven't noticed thishole in my hat, Mrs. Blake. He put a bullet through it."
"But it's right over your temple, Lafayette!" replied Mrs. Blake.
"Lafe was lifting his some-berero to me, and Kid did it to hazehim--only a joke, you know," explained Isobel. "Of course Lafe was inno danger. It was different, though, when somebody--we think it washis thieving guide--took several rifle shots at him. Tell them aboutit, Lafe."
Ashton gave an account of the murderous attack, more than oncechecking himself in a natural tendency to embellish the excitingdetails.
"Oh! What if the man should come back and shoot at us?" shuddered Mrs.Blake, drawing her baby close in her arms.
"No fear of that," asserted Isobel. "Kid found that he had fledtowards the railroad. That proves it must have been the guide. Hewould never dare come back after such a crime."
"If he should, I always carry my rifle, as you see," remarked Ashton;adding, with a touch of bravado, "I made him run once, and I wouldagain."
"I'm glad Miss Chuckie is sure he will not come back," said Blake. "Idon't fancy anyone shooting at me that way."
"Timid Mr. Blake!" teased the girl. "Genevieve has been telling me howyou faced a lion with only a bow and arrow."
"Had to," said Blake. "He'd have jumped on me if I had turned orbacked off.--Speaking about camping at that waterhole, I believe we'lldo it, Ashton, if it's the same thing to you. It would save the timethat would be lost coming and going to the ranch."
"Save time?" repeated Isobel. "Then of course we'll bring out a tentand camp kit for you tomorrow. Genevieve and I can ride or drive up tothe waterhole each day, to picnic with you."
"It will be delightful," agreed Mrs. Blake.
"You ride on ahead and wait for us in the shade," said her husband."We'll knock off for the day when we reach that dolerite dike abovethe waterhole.--If you are ready, Ashton, we'll peg along."
He started off to set up his level as briskly as at dawn, though themidday sun was so hot that he had to shade the instrument with hishandkerchief to keep the air-bubble from outstretching its scale. Hiswife and the girl drove on up Dry Fork to the waterhole.
Mrs. Blake was outstretched on her back, fast asleep, and Isobel wasplaying with the baby under the adjoining tree, when at last thesurveyors came up on the other side of the creek and ended their day'srun with the establishment of a bench-mark on the top of the dikeabove the pool. Blake seemed as fresh as in the morning. He took amoderate drink of water dipped up in the brim of his hat, and withoutwakening his wife, sat down beside her to "figure up" his fieldbook.
Ashton had come down to the pool panting from heat and exertion. Itwas the first time that he had walked more than half a mile sincecoming to the ranch, for he had immediately fallen into the cowboypractice of saddling a horse to go even short distances. He had hisreward for his work when, having soused his hot head in the pool anddrunk his fill, he came up to rest in the shade of Isobel's tree. Veryconsiderately the baby fell asleep. To avoid disturbing him and hismother, the young couple talked in low tones and half whispers veryconducive to intimacy.
Ashton did his utmost to improve his opportunity. Without openlyspeaking his love, he allowed it to appear in his every look andintonation. The girl met the attack with banter and raillery andadroit shiftings of the conversation whenever his ardent inferencesbecame too obvious. Yet her evasion and her teasing could not alwaysmask her maidenly pleasure over his adoration of her loveliness, andan occasional blush betrayed to him that his wooing was notaltogether unwelcome.
He was in the seventh heaven when Mrs. Blake awoke from herhealth-giving sleep and her husband closed his fieldbook. The girlpromptly dashed her suitor back to earth by dropping him for theengineer.
"Mr. Blake! You can't have figured it out already?" she exclaimed."What do you find?"
"Only an 'if,' Miss Chuckie," he answered. "If water can be stored orbrought by ditch to this elevation, practically all Dry Mesa can beirrigated. Our bench-mark there on the dike is more than two hundredfeet above that spike we drove into your porch post."
"Is that all you've found out today?"
"All for today," said Blake. "I could have left this line of levelsuntil later, but I thought I might as well get through with them."
"You would not have run them if you had thought they would beuseless," she stated, perceiving the point with intuitive acuteness.
"I like to clean up my work as I go along," he replied. "If you wishto know, I have thought of a possible way to get water enough for thewhole mesa. It depends on two 'ifs.' I shall be certain as to one ofthem within the next two days. The other is the question of the depthof Deep Canyon. If I had a transit, I could determine that by avertical angle,--triangulation. As it is, I probably shall have to godown to the bottom."
"Go down to the bottom of Deep Canyon?" cried the girl.
"Yes," he answered in a matter-of-course tone. "A big ravine runsclear down to the bottom, up beyond where your father said you firstmet Ashton. I think it is possible to get down that gulch.--Suppose wehitch up? We'll make the ranch just about supper-time."
Ashton hastened to bring in the picketed horses. When they wereharnessed Isobel fetched the sleeping baby and handed him to hismother; but she did not take the seat beside her.
"You drive, Lafe," she ordered. "I'm going to ride behind with Mr.Blake. It's such fun bouncing."
All protested in vain against this odd whim. The girl plumped herselfin on the rear end of the buckboard and dangled her slender feet withthe gleefulness of a child.
"Mr. Blake will catch me if I go to jolt off," she declared.
The engineer nodded with responsive gayety and seated himself besideher. As the buckboard rattled away over the rough sod, they made asmerry over their jolts and bounces as a pair of school-children on ahayrack party.
Mrs. Blake sought to divert Ashton from his disappointment, but hehad ears only for the laughing, chatting couple behind him. The factthat Blake was a married man did not prevent the lover from giving wayto jealous envy. Chancing to look around as he warned the hilariouspair of a gully, he saw the girl grasp Blake's shoulder. Natural aswas the act, his envy flared up in hot resentment. Except on theirdrive to Stockchute, she had always avoided even touching his handwith her finger tips; yet now she clung to the engineer with a graspas familiar as that of an affectionate child. Nor did she release herclasp until they were some yards beyond the gully.
Mrs. Blake had seen not only the expression that betrayed Ashton'sanger but also the action that caused it. She raised her fineeyebrows; but meeting Ashton's significant glance, she sought to passover the incident with a smile. He refused to respond. All during theremainder of the dr
ive he sat in sullen silence. Genevieve bent overher baby. Behind them the unconscious couple continued in theirmirthful enjoyment of each other and the ride.
When the party reached the ranch, the girl must have perceivedAshton's moroseness had she not first caught sight of her father. Hewas standing outside the front porch, his eyes fixed upon the cornerpost in a perplexed stare.
"Why, Daddy," she called, "what is it? You look as you do when playingchess with Kid."
"Afraid it's something that'll annoy Mr. Blake," replied the cowman.
"What is it?" asked Blake, who was handing his wife from thebuckboard.
As the engineer faced Knowles, Gowan sauntered around the far cornerof the house. At sight of the ladies he paused to adjust hisneckerchief.
"Can't understand it, Mr. Blake," said the cowman. "Somebody haspulled out that spike you drove in here this morning."
"Pulled the spike?" repeated Gowan, coming forward to stare at thepost. "That shore is a joke. The Jap's building a new henhouse. Mustbe short of nails."
"That's so," said Knowles. "I forgot to order them for him. I'm mightysorry, Mr. Blake. But of course the little brown cuss didn't know whathe was meddling with."
"Jumping Jehosaphat!" ejaculated Gowan. "That shore is mighty hardluck! I reckon pulling that spike turns your line of levels adriftlike knocking out the picket-pin of an uneasy hawss."
Blake burst into a hearty laugh. "That's a fine metaphor, Mr. Gowan.But it does not happen to fit the case. It would not matter if thespike-hole had been pulled out and the post along with it, so far asconcerns this line of levels."
"It wouldn't?" muttered Gowan, his lean jaw dropping slack. Heglowered as if chagrined at the engineer's laughter at his mistake.
Without heeding the puncher's look, Blake began to tell Knowles theresult of his day's work. While he was speaking, they went into thehouse after his wife and the girl, leaving Gowan and Ashton alone.Equally sullen and resentful, the rivals exchanged stares of openhostility. Ashton pointed a derisive finger at the spike-hole in thepost.
"'Hole ... and the post along with it!'" he repeated Blake's words."On bridge work it might have caused some trouble. But a preliminaryline of levels--_Mon Dieu_! A Jap should have known better--or even ayap!" With a supercilious shrug, he swung back into the buckboard anddrove up to the corral.
Gowan's right hand had dropped to his hip. Slowly it came up andjoined the other hand in rolling a thick Mexican cigarette. But thepuncher did not light his "smoke." He looked at the spike-hole in thepost, scowled, and went back around the house.