Navy Boys Behind the Big Guns | Page 6

know why.
In this particular case he wished to know why the man called Blake had
tried to hide himself in the clump of bushes beside the Upper Road

when the automobile load of boys had come along and caught him
examining the face of the Elmvale Dam through a field-glass.
It was through a break in the trees that partly masked the dam the man
had been looking, and Whistler knew that the spot in which he was
interested must be directly beside the overflow of the dam--where the
water splashed down into the rocky river bed.
Whistler did not lose interest in the attempt to inspire some of the
factory workers to enlist in the Navy, and he worked just as hard as his
mates all through the noon hour. But the puzzle connected with the
man named Blake continued to peck at his mind like an insistent chick
trying to get out of its shell.
Hans Hertig's desire to get some of his old friends to enlist bore some
fruit. Three men promised to go down to the enlistment bureau on
Saturday afternoon, when they had a half holiday.
The Seacove party then wanted to go to a dining-room for dinner; but
Whistler excused himself. He was hungry enough; but he "had other
fish to fry," he whispered to Torrance.
"Come around by the Upper Road--same way we got here," directed
Whistler. "I'll meet you at the bridge. Wait if I'm not there."
"What is the matter with you, Whistler?" demanded Al.
But although Morgan went away without making answer, he knew that
his chum would do as he was asked, and bluff off the others when they
asked questions, too.
Philip Morgan hurried past the factories and the few houses which lay
in this direction. The land near the dam which had been built across the
valley was so sterile that few people lived in this neighborhood.
Up on the ridges, on either side, were farms; but this was a wild piece
of scrub at the foot of the dam. One could jump a rabbit in it, or get up
a flock of quail at almost any time during the hunting season.

Like most boys of Seacove, as well as Elmvale, Whistler was familiar
with this stretch of untamed ground and plunged into it with full
knowledge of its tangled brier patches and rough quarries. He started
diagonally for the dam, and in a brief time came to the edge of the
shallow channel, which now carried the overflow of the huge reservoir
behind the dam down to the cove.
As he followed this stream, he could not help thinking of the possibility
of a break occurring in the high wall of masonry which loomed ahead
of him. If there should be any undiscovered weakness in the wall! Or if
an enemy should sink a charge of dynamite, or some other high
explosive, at the base of the dam and blow a hole through it!
He did not see any one moving about the dam either above or below.
He knew that on the ridge, level with the top of the barrier, lived a man
they called the dam superintendent. He sometimes walked across the
embankment, from end to end; a privilege forbidden to others.
But Whistler was quite sure that this dam superintendent seldom went
to the foot of the wall, or examined the face of it for any break in the
stonework. Of course, the dam had stood secure for so many years that
it seemed improbable that it would fail in any part now.
But Whistler Morgan was not considering any leakage of the water
through the masonry which might endanger the foundation of the dam.
Such seepage must have shown itself long ago if the barrier had not
been properly constructed.
It was of a sudden, unexpected, and treacherous blow-out that the
young sailor was thinking. That man in the bushes, who had seemed so
desirous of hiding from the passers-by and whose interest in the face of
the dam had been so marked, puzzled Phil and excited his suspicions.
Blake. And Blake was an English name! He looked about as much like
an Englishman as he, Whistler, looked like Dinkelspiel!
"I have seen plenty of Britishers," thought the young fellow, "and not
one of them ever looked like this chemist, or whatever he is. And he's a

stranger--worked here only a month.
"He was not tapping rocks or getting botanical specimens over here
when we fellows came along the Upper Road. His interest was in this
dam--if it was at long distance. I wonder if we ought to report him to
the marshal's office.
"And get him, if he's innocent of any wrongdoing, into hot water,"
Whistler added, wagging his head. "Say! that won't