Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 7, 1928 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

24 done was by showing prooi of definite fraud; and that of course is practically impossible. Those brigands have been too long at the game not to know how to cover their trail. “ But ”’—she snapped her fingers as she saw Norman’s face fall again— “what do lawyers know, anyhow? Listen to their advice, and you’d never go out of the house for fear it might rain. What I always say is, that there are more ways of trapping a weasel than by serving it with writs of man- damus. “ But it’s no use discussing ways and means now, Mr. Rich. I want a little chance to think first, and so, I guess, do you. Then we'll have a conference, go into the situation, and map out a plan of campaign. Can I drive you back to town with me?”’ But Norman declined the offer. Since he was out for a walk, he told her, and had already come so far, he felt he might as well keep on to the dam. So, with a cheery “ Au revoir” and a wave of the hand, she drove off, and he trudged on along the trail. The little glow of revived hope which talking to her had engendered, quickly flickered out. Maybe she meant what she said, but it sounded more as if she were merely letting him down easy. And even if she did intend to contest the fraudulent contract, why kid her- self with the notion that any advantage would accrue to him? No;so faras he was concerned this Los Chicos business was done and settled. By the time she got ready to do any- thing, he would be far away from there, and absorbed in entirely differ- ent interests. His firm, even if he had made good elsewhere, would never dream of keeping him kicking his heels around Rio Rita on so vague a specu- lation. Seized with a sudden impulse to get away from the whole distasteful mess, he checked his steps and half turned back toward the village. But a glance ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. at his watch told him that it was still much too soon to expect an answer to his telegram; and the possibility of a run-in with Crawford while waiting for it recurred as an objection. After a moment’s hesitation, he headed on again in the direction on which he had started. As the ground now began to slope down toward Hair- pin Canon he involuntarily struck into a swifter gait. Presently the sounds of a feverish activity were borne to his ears, the chattering of steam drills, the pound of rock crushers, the wheezing of don- key engines, the shouts of a small army of men, all warning him that he was approaching the scene of operations. This dam which was being construct- ed across the bend in the cafion, and shortly above the point where the cars of the wrecked train had tumbled that morning, was, of course, a part of the general irrigation system, intended to provide a reservoir for the storage of the required water. But it was a separate matter from the pumping plant which Norman had hoped to install, the subject of an en- tirely different contract. Consequent- ly, his interest in it was purely academic. Still he could tell from the sounds which came to him that the work must be considerably advanced, and was eager in a way to see what had been accomplished since he was there before. A few steps farther, and then round- ing the shoulder of a slight eminence, he came out upon the brink of the canon. Below him lay a great bowl-shaped excavation alive with energy and pow- er ina hundred different forms. Mon- ster cranes were swinging their long arms back and forth, picking up and carrying from place to place the load of tons as easily as a child might lift one of its building blocks. Steam shovels were biting away great mouthfuls from the mountain- side. Every once in awhile, heralded Micboo (G S (C@) (F@