"I wish you'd stop rotting," said Dick with a touch of awkwardness,
though he saw that Jake knew nothing about his leaving the army. "Was it
your father's notion that you should be an engineer?"
"He thinks so," Jake answered, grinning. "My opinion is that you have to
thank my sister Ida for the job of looking after me. She made this her
business until I went to Yale, when, of course, she lost control. Ida has
a weakness for managing people, for their good, but you ought to take it
as a delicate compliment that she passed me on to you."
"After all, Miss Fuller's age must be nearly the same as mine," Dick
remarked.
"I see what you mean, but in some respects she's much older. In fact, I
guess I could give you a year or two myself. But it seems to me you've
kind of wilted since we began to talk. You've gone slack and your eyes
look heavy. Say, I'm sorry if I've made you tired."
"I don't think you had much to do with it," said Dick. "My head aches and
I've a shivery feeling that came on about this time last night. A touch
of malarial fever, perhaps; they get it now and then in the town, though
we ought to be free from it on the hill. Anyhow, if you don't mind, I'll
get off to bed."
He went away, and Jake looked about the veranda and the room that opened
on to it. There was a canvas chair or two, a folding table, a large
drawing board on a trestle frame, and two cheap, tin lamps. It was
obvious that Dick thought of nothing much except his work and had a
Spartan disregard for comfort.
"A good sort, but it's concrete first and last with him," Jake remarked.
"Guess I've got to start by making this shack fit for a white man to live
in."
Dick passed a restless night, but felt better when he began his work on
the dam next morning, though he did not touch the small hard roll and
black coffee his colored steward had put ready for him. The air was
fresh, the jungle that rolled down the hill glittered with dew, and the
rays of the red sun had, so far, only a pleasant warmth. Cranes were
rattling, locomotives snorted as they moved the ponderous concrete blocks
and hauled away loads of earth, and a crowd of picturesque figures were
busy about the dam. Some wore dirty white cotton and ragged crimson
sashes; the dark limbs of others projected from garments of vivid color.
Dick drove the men as hard as he was able. They worked well, chattering
and laughing, in the early morning, and there was much to be done,
because Oliva's dismissal had made a difference.