ector of the Service. He was sorry, said the director, that
there had been so much loss of time and property in the flood. He
realized, of course, that Jim had done his best, but people who did not
know him so well would not have the same confidence. The Congressional
Committee on Investigation of the Projects, on receipt of numerous
complaints regarding the flood, had decided to proceed at once to Jim's
project and there begin its work.

Jim tossed the Director's letter to Henderson and laid aside the
Secretary's letter, which he had planned to answer that morning.

"More time wasted!" grumbled Jim. "There will be a hearing and
talky-talk and I must listen respectfully while the abutments crumble.
Why in thunder don't they send a good engineer or two along with the
Congressmen? A report from such a committee would have value. How would
Congress enjoy having a committee of engineers passing on the legality
of the work it does?"

Henderson laid the letter down, rumpling his hair. "Hell's fire!" he
said gently. "My past won't stand investigating. You ask the Missis if
it will! I'm safe if they stick to Government projects and stay away
from the mining camps and the ladies."

Jim's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps your past is black enough to whiten mine
in contrast. I'll ask Mrs. Henderson."

Henderson suddenly brightened. "I've got a dying favor to ask of you.
Let me take the fattest of 'em to ride in Bill Evans' auto?"

Jim looked serious. "Your past must have been black, all right, Jack!
You show a naturally vicious disposition. Really, I haven't anything
personal against these men. It's just that they take so much time and
insist on treating us fellows as if we were pickpockets."

"I ain't as ladylike as you," said Henderson, in his tender way. "I just
naturally hate to be investigated. My Missis does all that I can stand.
I won't do anything vicious, though. I'll just show a friendly interest
in them. I might lasso 'em and hitch 'em behind the machine, but that
might hurt it and, anyhow, that wouldn't be subtle enough. These here
Easterners like delicate methods. I do myself. At least, I appreciate
them. The delicatest attention I ever had that might come under the head
of an investigation was by an Eastern lady. It was years ago on an old
irrigation ditch. Her husband was starting a ranch and I caught him
stealing water. I was pounding him up when she landed on me with a
steel-pronged garden rake. She raked me till I