WEB
By CYRUS
YOUNG MEADE MAKES A DISCOVERY WHICH TERRIFIES
HIM AND HE TRIES TO SAVE MANY LIVES
The Martlet Construction company Is putting up n great inter
national bridge planned by Bertram Meade, Sr., a famous engineer.
His son, Bertram Meade, Jr., resident engineer at tha bridge, is iu
love with Helen Illlngworth, daughter of Colonel Illingworth, pres
ident of the construction company, and they will marry as soon as the
bridge is complete. The young engineer questioned his father's judg
ment on the strength of certain important girders, but was laughed
at. His doubts are verified, however, and he makes desperate efforts
to stop construction, fearing great loss of life.
CHAPTER IV -Continued.
But Meade was out of the house. It
was summer and the sun had set, but
the long twilight of the high latitude
still lingered. Before him rose the gi
gantic structure of the bridge. For all
Its airiness it looked as substantial as
the Rock of Gibraltar, and it looked
even more substantial if possible, as
the man, seizing a lantern and, for
getting his weakness, ran down be
neath the overarching steel to the pier
head, climbed up to the shoe, and
crawled out on the lower chord as rap
idly as he could.
Meade needed but one glance to see
the deflection from the right line in
the important member. For all his
years of inexperience he was a better
trained engineer than rough-and-ready
Abbott. What appeared to the latter
as a slight deflection, Meade saw in its
true relation. There was a variation
In the center of the member of an
Inch and a half at least, although un
noticeable to an untrained eye.. It had
all come In the last week. They had
extended the suspended span far out
beyond the edge of the cantilever and,
with the heavy traveler at the end,
the downward pressure on the great
lower chord members" had greatly in
creased. It was a terribly heavy bridge at
best. It had to be to sustain so long a
span, the longest in the world. And
the load, continuous and Increasing,
had brought about this, to the layman
trifling, to the engineer mighty, bend. If
it bent that way under that much of a
load, what would it do when the whole
great span was completed and It had
n norp It-a trnnsitnrv Innrta of trnfHr
beside?
When two different views meet it is
natural that age, experience, reputa
tion and authority shall carry the day.
Although Bertram Meade, Jr., had
never been persuaded in all particu
lars of the soundness of his father's
design, and could not be persuaded,
that vast experience, that great repu
tation, that undoubted ability with its
long record of brilliant achievement
had at last silenced him. He had ac
cepted through loyalty that which he
could not accept in argument. Once
accepted, he acted accordingly, heart
ily seconding and carrying out the
wishes of the older and, as the world
would say, the abler man.
The thing that smote the engineer
hardest was that this weakness was
exactly what he had foreseen and
pointed out. It was the possibility of
the Inability of this great member to
carry the stress that young Meade had
deduced by using the formula of
Schmidt-Chemnitz. It was this point,
and this point particularly, that he
had dwelt upon with his father and
which they had argued to a finish. So
strongly had he been impressed with
the possible structural weakness of
this member that he had put himself
on record in writing to his father. The
old man had overborne him and now
the little curve, one and a half to one
and three-quarter Inches in sixty feet,
established the accuracy of his un
heeded contention. Vainly now he
wished he had not let the old habit of
affection and the little touch of awe
with which he regarded his father per
suade him against his reason.
He stopped, feeling suddenly ill, as
a very nervous high-strung man may
feel under the sudden and unexpected
physical shock. He was weak still
from the tonsllltis. He leaned against
the diagonal at the end of C-10-It,
clinging to it tightly to keep from fall
ing. Abbott, who had followed more
slowly, stopped by him, somewhat sur
prised, somewhat amused, more indig
nant than both.
"Abbott," said Meade fiercely as the
erecting engineer joined him on the
pierhead, "if you put another pound of
load on that cantilever I will not be
answerable for the consequences."
"What do you mean?"
"That deflection is nearly two inches
deep now and every ounce or pound of
added weight you put upon it will make
it greater. Its limit will be reached
mighty soon. If it collapses " he
threw up his hands "the whole thing
will go."
"Yes, if it collapses, .that's true,"
said Abbott, "but it won't."
"You're mad," said Meade, taking
unfortunately the wrong course with
the older man.
"Why, boy," said Abbott, "that bridge
will btnnd as long as creation. Look
at it. That buckle doesn't amount to
anything. It is only in one truss any
TOWNSEND
Copyright by Fleming H. Revell Co.
way. The corresponding member in
the other truss is perfectly straight."
"Abbott, for God's sake, hear me,"
pleaded Meade in desperation. "Draw
back the traveler and put no more men
on the bridge. Stop work until we can
get word to "
"Don't talk to me, boy. I know my
business. I tell you I can jack it back.
That member's big enough and strong
enough to hold up the world."
"What are you going to jack
against?" Meade asked, and for the
first time a little of Abbott's contempt
appeared in the younger man's voice.
Abbott reflected that there was noth
ing firm enough to serve as a support
for Jacks and said rather grudgingly,
for it seemed like a concession to the
younger and junior engineer :
"Well, I can hook on to the opposite
truss and pull it back with turn
buckles."
"That will damage the other truss
too much, Abbott," Meade retorted
promptly. "It Isn't possible."
"Then I'll think up some other
scheme," returned Abbott Indifferently,
as If humoring the other. "We can't
wait, we've got to hurry it along.
He Stopped, Feeling Suddenly III.
There's going to be no penalty against
us on account of me. I won't stop work
a minute," he explained patronizingly.
"There will be a bigger penalty If
you don't do what I say, and paid in
another way, In blood. And It will be
your fault."
Now both men M-ere angry and in
their passion they confronted each
other more resolute and fierce than
ever.
"Look here," said Abbott, his fiery
temper suddenly breaking from his
control, "who are you anyway? You're
only a kid engineer. Your father ap
proved of the plan of this bridge. I
guess we can afford to bank on his
reputation rather than yours."
"Well, he doesn't know of this."
"Nobody Is on the bridge now, and
nobody is going to be on there until
tomorrow morning. Wire him if you
like. He'll wire Illingworth down at
Martlet and we'll get word what to
do."
"You won't put any men at work on
the bridge until"
"Not until tomorrow morning," said
Abbott decisively, "if I don't hear from
somebody at Martlet tomorrow morn
ing the work goes on."
"But If my father wires you "
"I take orders from the Martlet com
pany and no one else," was the short
answer with which Abbott turned away
in finality, so that the other realized
the Interview was over.
Meade wasted no more pleas on Ab
bott. As ill luck would have it some
thing had happened to the telephone
and telegraph wires between the city
and the camp. Meade dressed himself,
got a handcar, and was hurried to the
nearest town on the railroad's main
line. From there he sent a telegram
and tried to get connection with New
York by telephone, but failed. Moved
by a natural impulse, in default of
other means of communication, he
jumped on the midnight train for New
York. He would go himself in person
and attend to the grave affair. Noth
ing whatever could be so important.
There had been some friction be
tween Abbott and Meade before on oc
casions, not serious, but several times
Meade had ventured to suggest some
BRADY father and son
thing which to Abbott seemed useless
and unnecessary, and the fact that
subsequent events had more often than
not proved Meade's suggestions to be
worth while, had not put Abbott in al
together the best mood toward his
young colleague. Abbott never forgot
that Meade had really no official con
nection with the building of the bridge,
and that he was only there as a special
representative of his father, and al
though he could not help liking the
younger man, Abbott would have been
better pleased if he hud been left
alone.
Meade had not gone about it in the
right way to move a man of Abbott's
temperament. He realized that as lie
lay awake on the sleeper speeding to
New York. Abbott was a man who
could not be driven. He was a tre
mendous driver himself and naturally
he could not take his own medicine. If
Meade had received the announcement
more quietly and if he had by some
subtle suggestion put the Idea of dan
ger into Abbott's mind all would have
been well, for when he was not blind
ed by prejudice, or his authority or his
ability questioned, Abbott was a sen
sible man thoroughly to be depended
upon. But the news had come to Meade
with such suddenness, Abbott had only
casually mentioned it at the close of a
lengthy conversation regarding the
progress of the work as if it were a
matter of no special moment, that the
sudden shock had thrown Meade off
his balance.
Therefore he could see nothing but
danger and the necessity for action.
How he should handle his superior, or
rather the bridge's superior, was the
last thing in his mind. Aside from his
natural pride in his father and in the
bridge and his fear that lives would be
lost if it failed, unless he could get
the men withdrawn, there was the
complication of his engagement to
Helen Illingworth.
Meade could not close his eyes, he
could not sleep a moment on the train.
His mind was in a turmoil. Prayers
that he would get to his father and the
bridge people in time to stop work and
prevent loss of life, schemes for taking
up the deflection, strengthening the
member, and completing the bridge,
and fears that he would lose the wom
an, stayed with him through the night.
CHAPTER V.
The Death Message.
Meade, Sr., was an old man. Al
though unlike Moses his eye was dim
and his natural force abated, the evi
dences of power were still apparent,
especially to the observant. There rose
the broad brow of the thinker. His
power of intense concentration was ex
pressed outwardly by a directness of
gaze from the old eyes which, though
faded, could flash on occasion. Other
facial characteristics of that snow
crowned, leonine head, which bespoke
that Imaginative power without which
a great engineer could not be in spite
of all his scientific exactitudes, had not
been cut out of his countenance by the
pruning knife of time.
He was a great engineer and looked
it, sitting alone' in his office with the
telegram crushed In his trembling
hand, despite the fact that his gray
face was the very picture of unwonted
weakness, of lmpotency, and abiding
horror. The message had struck him a
terrific blow. He had reeled under it
and had sunk down In the chair In a
state of nervous collapse.
The telegram fairly burned the
clammy palm of his hand. He would
fain have dropped It yet he could not.
Slowly he opened it once more. Ordi
narily, powerful glasses stimulated his
vision. He needed nothing to read it
again. It Is doubtful whether his eyes
saw it or not and there was not need,
for the message was burned into his
brain.
He read again the mysterious words:
One and three-quarter-inch camber in
C-iO-R.
There could be no mistake. The
name that was signed to it was the
name of his son, the young engineer,
the child of his father's old age. The
boy, as the old man thought of him,
had ventured to dispute his father's
figures, to question his father's design,
but the elder man had overborne him
with his vast experience, his great au
thority, his extensive learning, his high
reputation. And now the boy was right.
Strange to say some little thrill of
pride came to the old engineer at that
moment.
He tried to find out from the tele
gram when it had been sent. That day
was a holiday the birthday of one of
the worthies of the republic In some
of the United States, New York and
Pennsylvania among them, and only by
chance had he come down to the office
that morning. The wire was dated the
night before. And he recalled that the
state from which the bridge ran did
not observe that day as a holiday.
They would be working on the Interna
tional as usual unless
One and three-quarter inches of de
flection ! No bridge that was ever made
could stand with a bend like that in
the principal member of its compres
sion chord, much less so vast a struc
ture as that which was to span the
greatest of rivers and to bring nation
into touch with nation. He ought to
do something, but what was there to
do? Presently, doubtless, his mind
would clear. But on the Instant all he
could think of was the impending ruin.
The Uplift building, in which he had
his offices, was mainly deserted on ac
count of the holiday. The banks were
closed and the offices and most of the
shops and stores. It was very still In
the hall and, therefore, he heard dis
tinctly the door of the single elevator
in service open with an unusual crash,
then the sound of rapid footsteps along
the corridor as of someone running.
They stopped before the outer door of
the suite which bore his name. In
stantly he suspected a messenger of
disaster. The door was opened, the of
fice was crossed, a hand was on the
inner door. He sank back almost as
one dead waiting the shock, the blow.
"Father," exclaimed the newcomer.
"You got my telegram?"
The other silently exhibited the
crumpled paper in his hand.
"What have you done?"
"It's a holiday, don't you know? I
only got it a few moments ago. The
bridge?"
"Still stands."
"But for how long?"
"I can't say. The Martlet's resident
engineer is mad. I begged, threatened,
implored. I tried to get him to stop
work, to take the men off the bridge,
to withdraw the traveler, but he won't
do it. Said you designed it, you knew.
I was only a cub."
"But the camber?"
"He said, 'I'll jack It into line again.'
Like every other engineer who sees a
big thing before him it looks to him as
if It would last forever. I tried to get
you on the telephone here and at the
house last night and failed. I wired
you. Then I Jumped on the midnight
express and "
"What is to be done?" asked the old
man.
Meade, Sr., was thankful that the
younger man had not said, "I told you
so," as well he might. But really his
father's condition was so pitiful that
the son had not the heart.
"Telegraph the Martlet Bridge com
pany at once," he answered.
"What shall we say?" asked the old
man, uncertainly.
The young man shot a quick look at
him, that question evidenced the vio
lence of the shock. His father was
old, broken, helpless, dependent, at
last. . . .
"Give me the blank," he answered,
"I'll wire in your name."
He repeated the telegram that he
had sent to his father and added these
words as he signed the old man's
name to it:
Put no more load on the bridge. With
draw men and traveler.
"I can't understand why we don't
hear," said the young engineer two
hours later, walking up and down the
room in his agitation. "Two telegrams
and now we can't get a telephone con
nection, or at least any answer after
our repeated calls."
"Jt's a holiday there as well as here,"
said the older man. "There is no one
in the office at Martlet."
"I'll try the telephone again. Some
one may come in at any time."
He sat down at the desk, and after
five minutes of feverish and excited
waiting he finally did get the office of
the Martlet Bridge company. By a
happy fortune it appeared that some
one happened to come Into the office
just at that moment.
"This is Meade," began the young
man, "the consulting engineer of the
International bridge. Well, at ten-
AH He Could Think of Was the Im
pending Ruin.
thirty this morning I sent a telegram
to Colonel Illingworth and an hour
later I sent another. What's that?
Both telegrams are on the desk? Give
me your name Johnson you're one
of the clerks there? Well, telephone
Colonel Illingworth at his home
what! He isn't at home? Is the vice
president there the superintendent
anybody? How far away are they?
Twenty miles! There's no telephone?
Now, listen, Johnson, this is what you
must do. Get a car, the strongest and
fastest you can rent and the boldest
chauffeur, and a couple of men on
horses too, and send up to that place
wherever they are, and tell Colonel
Illingworth that lie must telephone me
and come to his office at once. There
are telegrams there that mean life or
death and the safety of the bridge.
You understand? Good. He says he'll
do It, ather. We've done all we
can," he added. He hung up the re
ceiver, sprang to his feet, looked at
his watch. "It's so Important that I'll
go down there myself. 1 can catch the
two o'clock train, and that will get me
there in two hours. You stay quietly
here In the office and wait until I get
in touch with those people. I mean, I
want to know where I can reach you
instantly."
"I'll stay right here, my boy. Go,
and God bless you."
As usual when in a great hurry
there were unexpected delays and the
clock on the tower above the big struc
tural shop was striking five when a
rickety station wagon, drawn by an ex
hausted horse, which had been driven
unsparingly, drew up before the office
door. Flinging the money at the driver,
Meade sprang down from his seat and
dashed up the steps. He threw open
the door rnd confronted Johnson.
"Did you get him?" he cried.
"He isn't here yet. I sent an auto
mobile and two men on horseback
and"
The next minute the faint note of
an automobile horn sounded far down
the valley.
"I hope to God that is he," cried the
young engineer, running to the win
dow. "That's the car I sent," said John
son, peering over his shoulder. "And
there are people in it. It's coming this
way."
"Johnson," said Meade, "you have
acted well in this crisis and I will see
that the Bridge company remembers
it."
"Would you mind telling me what
the matter is, Mr. Meade?"
"Matter! The International"
"Bert," exclaimed a joyous voice, as
Helen Illingworth, smiling in delighted
surprise, stepped through the open
door and stood expectant" with out
stretched hands.
Young Johnson was as discreet as he
was prompt and ready. He walked to
the window out of which he stared,
with his back ostentatiously turned to
ward them. After a quick glance at
the other man, Meade swept the girl
to his heart and held her there a mo
ment. He did not kiss her before he
released her. The woman's passionate
look at Ulna was caro noigh and his
own adoring glance fairly enveloped
her with emotion. Johnson coughed
and turned as the two separated. It
was the woman who recovered her
poise quicker.
"What were you saying about our
bridge when I came into the room?"
she began, and Meade fully understood
the slight but unmistakable emphasis
in the pronoun our bridge, indeed "I
was lying down this afternoon, but
when I awakened my maid told me
about your urgent calls for father,"
she ran on, realizing that some trouble
portended and seeking to help her
lover by giving him time. "I knew
something must be wrong, so I came
here. I didn't expect to see you. Oh,
what is it?" she broke off, suddenly
realizing from the mental strain in her
lover's face, which the sudden sight of
her had caused him to conceal for a
moment, that something terribly seri
ous had happened, and she turned a
little pale herself as she asked the
question, not dreaming what the an
swer would be. '
"Helen," said the young man, step
ping toward her and taking her hands
again, "we're in awful trouble."
"If it Is any trouble I can share,
Bert," said the girl, flashing at him a
look which set his pulses bounding at
least she was to be depended on
"you know you can count on me."
"I know I can," he exclaimed grate
fully. "Now tell me."
"The International bridge Is about to
fall."
The color came to her face again.
Was that all? came into her mind.
That Mas serious enough, of course,
but It would not matter in the Ion
run. Helen realized the awful gravity
the terrible seriousness, of the sltua
tion of course. The bridge meant much
to her even If in quite a different way.
It was there he had saved her from the
awful fall. It was there that he h
told her that he loved her. The bri.
might fall, but it was as eternal as
affection In her memory. Their
gagement, or their marriage, had
made dependent upon the succt
completion of the bridge. W
that? The proviso meant noth
her when she looked at the whit4
agonized man to whom she ha
herself.
"It is terrible, of course," si
quietly. "But you can do nothii
"If I could, do you think I'd
bridge, and you, go without " i
"I'm not going with the bridge,V
her quick and decisive interruption
They had both forgotten the A
ence of young Johnson, who was u
only decidedly uncomfortable, but des?
perotely anxious. lie was about to
speak when, Into this already broken
scene, came another Interruption.
There was a rush of wheels on the
driveway outside, the roar of a motor.
Before Mende could answer the state
ment, into the room burst Colonel Il
llngworth. lie was covered with dust,
his face w;is white his eyes filled with
anxiety. The character of the sum
mons had disquieted him beyond meas
ure. Back of him came Severence, the
i
1
hi
vice president, and Curtlss, the chid
engineer.
"Meade, what of the bridge?" he
burst out, with a quick nod to his
daughter. Colonel Illlngworth had not
stopped to hunt for a wayside tele
phone. The automobile driven madly,
recklessly through the hills and over
the rough roads, had brought him di
rectly to the office in the shortest pos
sible time.
"There is a deflection one inch and
three-quarters -deep in one of the com
pression members, C-IO-R," was the
prompt and terrible answer.
Colonel Illingworth had not been
president of the Martlet Bridge com
pany for so long without learning some
thing of practical construction. He
was easily enough of an engineer to
realize Instantly what that statement
meant.
"When did you discover It?" he
snapped out.
"Last night."
"Is the bridge gone?"
"Not yet."
"Why didn't you let us know?"
"I telegraphed father and, not hear
ing from him, I came down on the mid-
v" nS ill
Into the Room Burst Colonel lllington.
night train. It is a holiday in New York
as well as here. I just happened to
meet father in the office. He sent a
telegram to you and not hearing from
you, duplicated it an hour later. I
tried half a dozen times to get you on
the telephone and finally, by a happy
chance, got hold of young Johnson."
"Where are your father's tele
grams?" "Here."
Colonel Illlngworth tore the first
open with trembling fingers.
"Why didn't you tell Abbott?" asked
the chief engineer.
"You know Abbott. He said the
bridge would stand until the world
caved in. Said he could jack the mem
ber into line. He wouldn't do a thing
except on direct orders from here."
"Your father wires, "put no more
weight on the bridge.' What shall wo
do?" Interposed Colonel Illingworth.
"Telegraph Abbott at once."
"If the bridge goes it means ruin to
the company," said the agitated vice
president, who was the financial mem
ber of the firm and who could easily be
pardoned for a natural exaggeration
under the terrible circumstances.
"Yes, but if it goes with the men on,
it means Johnson, are you a telegraph
operator?"
"Yes, sir."
"Take the key," said the colonel,
who, having tyeen a soldier, thought
first of the men.
Johnson sat down at the table where
the direct wire ran from the bridge
company to the telegraph office. He
reached his hand out and laid his
fingers on the key. Before he could
give the faintest pressure to the instru
ment, it suddenly clicked of its own
motion. Everybody in the room stood
silent.
"It is a message from Wllchings, the
chief of construction foreman of,"
Johnson paused a moment, listening to
the rapid click "the International
he said in an awestruck whisper.
It hM come !
213hd it, man! Head it, for God's
cried the chief engineer.
e bridge is in the river," faltered
slowly, word by word, trnns
le fearful message on the wire,
jf and one hundred and fifty men
Sat ha
Jd in
happens after the crash
the next installment.
i hap
Vllino
happens to the Meaaes
jingvorths, and the vast
T stirre
ters.
rred up, makes thr.ll-
t?E CONTINUED.)
shoot crj v,
the corn Is liable tol
loss than a million cnt
aKes
only a second to put a cartridge in a
gun when the time is at hand. It
takes no longer to take it out.
Blossom Remains.
Bacon "Crlmsonbeak says his wife
keeps his nose to the grindstone." Eg
bert "Well, it doesn't seem to wear
the. red off of it,"
Nyreirus from
I run in t