great the provocation.
“You going to stick around?” Dunn asked.
“That’s what I’m here for, is it not?” Slade countered. “I was sent here to investigate your complaint of unlawful activities going on in this section. Last night was an example of sabotage that might well have cost one or more lives. As a Texas Ranger that is very much my business, and it is my duty to see, if possible, that the culprits are brought to justice.
“They’ll be brought to justice, all right,” Dunn predicted grimly, “but as to whether they’ll ever stand trial is problematical. I’ve noticed that in such cases, El Halcón is quite often judge, jury, prosecutor and executioner. Well, often that’s the only way to do it, so more power to you. Now I suppose you’ll need an excuse to stick around, so how about taking charge of things here? After all, I have a few more things to think about other than this blasted feeder; I’ve been away from the main office too long as it is. Although you’re not working at it, I don’t believe there’s a better engineer in Texas, and you have a rare knack, something born to, not acquired, for inspiring men to be fiercely loyal to you. Already the boys admire and respect you for what you did last night, and I’m confident you won’t have any trouble with them.”
“Thank you for your confidence in me, sir,” Slade replied. “But don’t you have a field engineer on this job?”
“Yes, I have,” Dunn replied. “John Butler, a first rate construction man, but I’m afraid he doesn’t get the work out of the boys he should. He’s down at Presidio right now, superintending the construction of the approaches for the bridge across the Rio Grande, a highly important project as you well know.”
“Decidedly so,” Slade conceded. “Did Butler run the surveys for the approaches?” Dunn shook his head.
“There’s another example of the bad luck that’s been dogging me ever since I conceived this project,” he said. “The surveys were run by Potter Quigley, a good bridge engineer, but right after he finished that part of the chore he took sick and quit. Said the climate down here would kill him if he stayed. Could be; it is a devil of a section for anybody not accustomed to such conditions. I was planning to try and transfer another man here, later, although it would disrupt other work to do so. Now with you here I don’t have to worry about that, if you’ll take over.”
“Perhaps Mr. Butler won’t take kindly to being superceded, which is what it amounts to,” Slade suggested. Dunn chuckled.
“Well,” he said dryly, “having seen you in action a few times, I predict that if his dissatisfaction proves too vocal he is liable all of a sudden to wonder how come the sky fell in on him.”
Slade laughed. “I’ve a notion Mr. Butler and I will make out together,” he replied. “Yes, I’ll take over the chore—gives me a chance to keep my hand in, as it were.”
“Still planning to go in for engineering?” Dunn asked curiously.
“Oh, sure,” Slade admitted. “After a while, when I decide to leave the Rangers.” Dunn smiled and did not comment.
“Come on over to the car and I’ll give you your authority,” he said.
FOUR
IN THE PRIVATE CAR the General Manager scratched away busily with a pen for a few minutes. He read over what he had written, affixed his signature, and handed the paper to Slade, who glanced at it, folded it and stowed it in a pocket.
“That should hold you,” Dunn said cheerfully.
“Yes,” Slade smiled, “even to cleaning out the office safe if I take a notion to.”
“Go to it!” Dunn replied blithely. “If you do, I’ve a notion you will have earned it. Now what?”
“Now,” Slade said, “I think I’ll ride down to Presidio to see what you’re trying to put over on ‘Ol’ Debbil River.’ Never bridged the Rio Grande, have you?”
“No,” Dunn admitted, “but with your help I bridged the Pecos, if you’ll recall.”
“Yes,” Slade nodded. “But compared to the Rio Grande when it takes a notion to really go on a rampage, the Pecos is like a purry kitten to a catamount.”
“Okay,” said Dunn. “You have authority to change the course of the river if you decide it expedient to do so.”
“The Rio Grande takes care of that angle without any outside help,” Slade answered. “That’s one of the problems with which you’ll have to contend. One slip in planning those approaches and you’ll find yourself without a bridge.”
“I have had such a notion,” Dunn admitted. “However, Quigley seemed to be a capable man and doubtless you’ll find everything okay. Anyhow, with you on the job I figure my troubles there are over. Be seeing you when you get back.”
Jaggers Dunn was right when he observed that Walt Slade was an engineer and a good one. Shortly before the death of his father, which followed financial reverses that entailed the loss of the elder Slade’s ranch, young Walt had graduated from a famous college of engineering. His intention had been to take a post-graduate course in special subjects to round out his education and better fit him for the profession he had determined to make his life work. That, however, became impossible for the time being and Slade was undecided as to just what to do. He had about made up his mind to accept a position with an engineering firm when he happened to drop in on Captain Jim McNelty, the famous Commander of the Border Battalion of the Texas Rangers. Captain Jim had a suggestion to make.
“Walt,” he said, “why don’t you come into the Rangers for a while? You liked the chore when you worked with me some during summer vacations. It would give you plenty of spare time for study and keep you going comfortably at the same time.”
After due consideration, Slade concluded the notion was a good one. He signed up with the Rangers. Long since he had obtained more from private study than he could have hoped for from the post-grad and was eminently fitted to take up the profession of engineering.
Meanwhile, however, Ranger work had gotten a strong hold on him, providing as it did so many opportunities for helping his fellow men and making the world a better place for decent people to live. So he hesitated to sever connections with the illustrious body of law enforcement officers. Plenty of time to be an engineer—he was young. Eventually he would become one, but not just yet. He would stick with the Rangers for a while.
After leaving Jaggers Dunn, Slade got the rig on Shadow and rode south at a fair pace. Gradually the desert became less austere and the going more comfortable. Eventually, without incident, he sighted Presidio, an old town of sunbaked houses squatting in the shade of giant cottonwoods. It had a leisurely look, but he knew it could be plenty rambunctious at times, and was. The same went for Ojinaga, the Mexican town across the river. Presidio was and still is a minor port of entry into Mexico. It was here that the Chihuahua Trail, one of the main freight routes into Mexico, crossed the Rio Grande, The miners and ranchers of the surrounding mountains obtain supplies at Presidio and would welcome the railroad shipping facilities. They also found diversion in the saloons and cantinas of Presidio and Ojinaga and livened things by their presence. Now the railroad construction workers were adding their bit to the general hilarity.
Several hundred yards beyond the outskirts of the town, a large crew of workmen were busily preparing the northern approach to the contemplated bridge. Slade
