Part 25 (1/2)
Sheila laughed. Her estimate of Farwell did not credit him with wideness of outlook. But her reply was prevented by the _thud-thud_ of rapid hoofs. A horse and rider loomed through the dark.
”h.e.l.lo, Sheila!” the rider called.
”Why, Casey, this is luck!” she exclaimed. Farwell scowled at the evident pleasure in her voice. ”Light down. Better put your horse in the stable.”
”That you, McCrae?” said Dunne, peering at the glow of Farwell's cigar.
”I want to see you about----”
”It's Mr. Farwell,” Sheila interjected quickly.
A pause. Casey's voice, smooth, polite, broke it.
”I didn't recognize you, Mr. Farwell. How are you?” He dismounted, dropped his reins, and came upon the veranda. ”Lovely night, isn't it?
Well, and how is everything going with you?”
”I'm fairly busy,” Farwell replied grimly, ”thanks to the actions of some persons who imagine themselves unknown.”
Casey Dunne lit a cigar and held the match in his hand till the flame touched his fingers. He spoke through the ensuing greater darkness:
”I heard that your dam wasn't holding very well.”
”Not very well,” Farwell agreed, struggling with his temper. ”Perhaps you _heard_ that it was dynamited?”
”I think I've heard most of the rumours,” Dunne responded calmly.
”I have no doubt of that,” Farwell observed with meaning.
”Great country for rumours,” Casey went on. ”Somebody always knows your inmost thoughts. Your intentions are known by others before you know them yourself. You are no exception, Mr. Farwell. The mind readers are busy with you. No action you might take would surprise them. They are quite ready for anything.”
”I may surprise these wise people yet,” said Farwell. ”I suppose they counted on depriving our lands of water by destroying our dam?”
”That's certainly an original way of putting it,” said Casey. ”Well?”
”Well, they didn't foresee that, though our permanent work is wrecked, and will take time to rebuild, we would put in a temporary wing of logs, brush, and sand which would give us a partial supply.”
”No, they didn't foresee that, likely,” Casey admitted. ”This wing dam of yours is quite an idea. By the way, I'm not getting enough water now, myself. Couldn't you get along with less than you are taking?”
”No,” Farwell returned shortly.
”These wise people thought you could or would,” said Casey, and, turning to Sheila, asked for her father. A few minutes afterward he strode off in search of him.
Farwell endeavoured to pick up the broken thread of conversation with Sheila. But this proved difficult. She was preoccupied; and he himself found Dunne's concluding words sticking in his memory. Did they hide a sinister meaning? He disliked Dunne heartily, and he was jealous of him besides, without having any definite cause; but he no longer underrated him.
On his way to camp he turned the problem over and over in his mind, but could make nothing of it, unless the words foreshadowed an attempt on the temporary dam. But there seemed to be little chance for the success of such an undertaking. Big acetylenes flared all night by the makes.h.i.+ft structure, and two men with shotguns watched by it. The whole camp was under almost martial law.
Farwell walked down to the river before he retired, to find the watchman very wide awake and a torrent booming through the stone-faced ca.n.a.l intake, to be distributed through a network of ditches upon the company's lands miles away. Farwell, satisfied, instructed the watchmen to keep a bright lookout, and turned in.
Once in the night he awoke with the impression that he had heard thunder, but as the stars were s.h.i.+ning he put it down to a dream and went to sleep again. In the morning one of the watchmen reported a distant sound resembling a blast, but he had no idea where it was.