Read Ebook: The filtration of public water-supplies Third edition revised and enlarged. by Hazen Allen

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Ebook has 1725 lines and 178293 words, and 35 pages

"Just as you fellows say," Al responded, and turned into a side road that soon brought them above the mills on the ridge overlooking the valley.

"I say, fellows," Whistler stopped whistling long enough to observe, "there's a slue of water behind that dam. S'pose she should let go all of a sudden?"

"I'd rather be up here than down there," Al said.

"Oi, oi!" croaked Ikey, "you said something."

"I wonder if they guard that dam as they say they do the munition factories," Frenchy put in.

Al turned the machine into the road that descended into the valley by a sharp incline. In sight of the bridge which crossed the river Whistler suddenly put his hand upon his chum's arm.

"Hold on, Torry," he said earnestly. "I bet that's one of the guards now. See that fellow in the bushes over there?"

"I see the man you mean!" Frenchy exclaimed, leaning over the back of the front seat of the automobile. "But he isn't in khaki. And he hasn't got a gun."

All the Navy boys in the automobile, even Seven Knott, saw the man to whom Whistler Morgan had first drawn attention. The man had his back to the road. He was standing upright with a pair of field glasses to his eyes. His interest seemed fixed on a point along the face of the dam just where a thin slice of water ran over the flashboard into the rocky bed of the river.

THE STRANGER

For the life of him Phil Morgan could not have told why he was so keenly interested in that stranger. He could not see the man's face; he did not presume it was anybody he had ever seen before; nor had he any reason to be suspicious of the man.

Nevertheless he felt a little thrill as he first caught sight of the stranger, and this feeling spurred his exclamation to Torry, which lead the others' attention to him.

After they had all seen the man, Phil added: "Pull her down. Let's see what he is up to."

Torrance stopped the automobile. His chum was their acknowledged leader in most things, and all the other Navy boys were used to obeying Phil Morgan's mandates without much question. As told in the former books of this series, Morgan was an observant and level-headed youth, and his friends might have followed a much more dangerous leader in both work and play.

The four boys, at that time all under eighteen years of age, had begun their first enlistment in the Navy several months before the United States got into the war. They spent some months in the training camp at Saugarack, on the New England coast.

The Government commissioned new craft of all kinds as rapidly as they could be obtained, and was obliged to man some of them partly with youths who had not yet finished their preliminary training ashore.

In this first narrative of their adventures in the United States Navy, Phil had a very thrilling experience. He fell overboard from his ship and was picked up by the German U-boat No. 812.

The second volume of the series opened with this situation. The boys made the acquaintance of an influential man, Mr. Alonzo Minnette, who was likewise a passenger on the stalled train. And he made it possible for the four apprentice seamen to reach their ship in time.

Naturally the Navy boys were interested in having others join the Navy; and Hans Hertig, whom they found at home visiting his mother, was particularly anxious to get some young men, who were working in Elmvale and who came of German stock like himself, to enlist and show their patriotism and love for the country of their birth.

"Say! what do you suppose is the matter with that chap?" Frenchy demanded at last in his rather high, penetrating voice.

Instantly the man in the bushes turned and saw the automobile. Like a flash he settled down in his tracks and disappeared. One moment he was a plain figure standing out against the background of the dam; the next he was not there at all!

"You poor fish!" ejaculated Al in disgust, "you scared him off with your squealing. Who do you suppose he was?"

"And what is he doing over there?" added Ikey Rosenmeyer.

"Funny thing," observed Whistler. "Must be something important up on that dam he was looking at through his glasses."

"Might as well drive on," growled Al, punching the starter button again. "This Frenchman from Cork would spoil anything."

"Aw--g'wan!" muttered the abashed Michael Donahue.

"Well, that chap was no guard, that is sure," Whistler said.

They drove slowly on across the bridge. All of them searched the base of the dam--or as much of it as could be seen, for the fringe of trees and shrubs that masked it--but not a moving figure did they see. The water poured over the flashboard with a splashing murmur at that distance, and ran down under the bridge in a rocky bed. It was clear and cool looking. Below the factories the river water was of an entirely different color, and people in Seacove had begun to object to the filth from the Elmvale mills being dumped into the cove.

Al Torrance stopped the car at the side gate of the biggest munition works just as the noon whistle blew. Seven Knott got out and began to look about for his friends to whom he had tried to talk enlistment.

He soon spied two of them, and beckoned them near. Others followed. Whistler and his chums were introduced by the boatswain's mate, who left the talking to the youths after he had introduced his friends.

In five minutes there was a very earnest enlistment meeting going on at the gate of the munition factory. Perhaps no harder place to gain recruits could have been selected. In the first instance, all the boys working here were earning big money. And there was, too, some excitement in the work. As one of them said:

"You Jackies haven't anything on us. We don't know but any moment we may be blown sky-high."

"True for you," put in Frenchy smartly. "But you don't get any fun out of your danger. We do. And we get promotion and steadily increased pay and a chance to get up in the world."

"Sure!" broke in Al. "Some day we're all going to win gold stripes; aren't we, fellows?"

His chums declared he was right. But one listener said doubtfully:

"You won't ever win commissions if you get sunk or blown up, on one of those blamed old iron pots."

"Say!" put in Ikey Rosenmeyer hotly, "you fellows won't get no advance in rating at all, and you may get blown up any time. We've got something to work for, we have!"

"We've got money to work for," declared one of the munition workers.

"Oi, oi!" sneered Ikey. "What's money yet?" A sneer which vastly amused his chums, for Ikey's inborn love for the root of all evil was well known.

As the group stood talking, along came a man, walking briskly from the direction the Seacove boys had come in their automobile. Two or three of the munition workers spoke to the man, who was broad-shouldered, walked with a brisk military step, and was heavily bewhiskered.

Whistler stopped talking to a possible candidate for the blue uniform of the Navy, and looked after this stranger.

"Who is he?" he asked.

"That's Blake. Works in our laboratory. Nice fellow," was the reply.

"Oh! I didn't know but he was one of the men guarding the dam," Whistler murmured.

"Shucks! there aren't any guards up there. There are soldiers here at the factories, though."

"Is that so?" questioned Whistler. "Where's he been, do you suppose?"

"Who? Blake?"

"That man," said young Morgan grimly.

"Oh, he's a bug on natural history, or the like. Always tapping rocks with a hammer, or hunting specimens, or botanizing. Great chap. Hasn't been here in Elmvale long. But everybody likes him."

Phil made no further comment aloud, but to himself he said:

"He wasn't botanizing through that field-glass; or knocking specimens off of rocks. His interest was centered on the face of the dam. I wonder why?"

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