JACK’S “BIT OF ENGINEERING.”

The boys got around Jack after dinner, and asked him about that bit of engineering.

“In the first place,” said Jack, standing outside the door, and looking over toward the spring, hidden by intervening bushes on a ridge, “we must have a water-level, and I think I can make one. Get me a piece of shingle, or any thin strip of wood. And I shall want a pail of water.”

A shingle brought, Jack cut it so that it would float freely in the pail; and, having taken two thin strips of equal length from the sides, he set them up near each end, like the masts of a boy’s boat.

“Now, this is our level,” he said; “and these masts are the sights. To see that they are exact, we will look across them at some object, then turn the level end for end, and look across them again; if the range is the same both ways, then our sights are right, are they not? But I see we must lay a couple of sticks across the pail, to hold our level still while we are using it.”

The boys were much interested; and Link said he didn’t see what anybody wanted of a better level than that.

“It will do for the use we are going to make of it,” said Jack; “but it might not be quite convenient for field service; you couldn’t carry a pail of water, and a floating shingle with two masts, in your overcoat-pocket, you know. We’ll aim at a leg of that grindstone. Go and stick your knife where I tell you, Link.”

Jack soon got his level so that it would stand the test, and called the boys to look.

“Here! you stand back, Chokie!” cried Link; while Rufe and Wad, one after the other, got down on the ground and sighted across the level at the knife-blade.

“Now,” Jack explained, “I am going to set this pail of water in your kitchen window, by the sink. That will be our starting-point. Then I want one of you boys to go, with a long-handled pitchfork, in the direction of the spring, as far as you can and keep the pail in sight; then set up your fork, and pin a piece of white paper on it just where I tell you. As I raise my hand, you will slide the paper up; and, as I lower my hand, you will slip it down.”

Wad and Link both went with the fork, which they set up on the borders of the woodland, back from the road. Then Wad, wrapping a piece of newspaper about the handle, held it there as high as his head, with a good strip of it visible above his hand.

Jack, standing in the kitchen, looked across the sights of his level placed in the open window, and laughed.

“What do you think, Rufe? Is the paper high enough?”

“It ought to be a foot or two higher,” was Rufe’s judgment.

“I say a foot higher,” remarked Lord Betterson, coming up behind.

“What do you say, Vinnie?”

“I think the paper is too high.”

“Now look across the level,” said Jack.

All were astonished; and Lord Betterson could hardly be convinced that the level was constructed on sound principles. It showed that the top of the paper should be just below Wad’s knee.

“Now we will take our level,” said Jack, after the paper was pinned in its proper place, “and go forward and make another observation.”

He chose a place at the top of the ridge beyond Wad, where, after cutting a few bushes, he was able to look back and see the fork-handle, and also to look forward and see the spring. There he set his pail on the ground, waited for the water to become still, adjusted his level, and caused a second strip of paper to be pinned to the fork-handle, in range with the sights.

The boys then gathered around the fork, while Jack, taking a pocket-rule from his coat, ascertained that the second paper was six feet and an inch above the first.

“Which shows that our level is now six feet and an inch higher than it stood on the kitchen window,” said he. “Now let’s see how much higher it is than the spring.”

Link was already on his hands and knees by the pail, turning the sights in range with the spring on the farther side of the little ravine. He suddenly flapped his arms and crowed.

“No need of setting the fork over there,” he said. “The spring is almost as high as the pail!”

“Let’s be exact,” said Jack; and he went himself and thrust the fork, handle downward, into the basin of the spring. “Now, Link, you be the engineer; show your skill; tell me where to fix this paper.”

Link was delighted with the important part assigned him.

“Higher!” he commanded, from behind the pail. “Not quite so high. Not quite so low. Now just a millionth part of an inch higher there!”

“A millionth part of an inch is drawing it rather fine,” said Jack, as he pinned the paper.

Afterward, going and looking across the level, he decided that Link had taken a very accurate aim. Then, his pocket-measure being once more applied, the paper was found to be only seven inches higher than the water in the basin.

“Seven inches from six feet one inch, leaves five feet six inches as the height of the spring water above the level of our sights at the kitchen window. Now, I measured, and found they were there thirteen inches higher than the bottom of the sink; which shows that if you carry this water in pipes, you can have your spout, or faucet, thirteen inches higher than the bottom of your sink, and still have a head of water of five feet and six inches, to give you a running stream.”

The boys were much astonished, and asked how it happened that they had been so deceived.

“You have unconsciously based all your calculations on the fact that you go down to Peakslow’s. The road falls a little all the way. But it doesn’t fall much between your house and the place where you turn into the woodland. There you take a path among the bushes, which really rises all the way, though quite gradually, until you pass the ridge and go down into the ravine. Vinnie hasn’t been accustomed to talk of going down to the spring, as you have; and so, you see, she was the only one who thought Wad at first placed his paper too high. Perhaps this doesn’t account for your mistake; but it is the best reason I can give.”

“How about the pipes?” Rufe asked.

“You can use pump-logs for pipes.”

“But we have no pump-logs!”

“You have enough to reach from here to North Mills and return. They are growing all about you.”

“Trees!” said Wad. “They are not pump-logs.”

“Pump-logs in the rough,” replied Jack. “They only need cutting, boring, and jointing. All pump-logs were once trees. These small-sized oaks are just the thing for the purpose; you have acres of them, and in places the timber needs thinning out. You can use the straight stems for your aqueduct, and the limbs and branches for firewood.”

“That’s an idea!” said Rufe, rubbing his forehead and walking quickly about. “But how are we going to turn our tree-trunks into pump-logs? We have no tools for boring and jointing.”

“No, and it would cost a good deal to get them. You want an iron rod, or auger-shaft, long enough to bore half-way through your longest log; then a bit, an inch bore would be large enough, but I suppose it would be just as easy, perhaps easier, to make a two-inch bore, the auger would be more apt to get clogged and cramped in a smaller hole; then a reamer and a circular joint-plane, to make your joints, the taper end of one log is to be fitted into the bore of the next, you know. You will also need some apparatus for holding your log and directing the rod, so that you sha’n’t bore out, but make your holes meet in the middle, when you bore from both ends; and I don’t know what else. I’ve watched men boring logs, but I don’t remember all the particulars about it.”

“You seem to remember a good deal,” said Wad. “And I like the idea of a stream from this spring running in our back-room, think of it, Rufe! But it can’t be did, as the elephant said when he tried to climb a tree. No tools, no money to buy or hire ’em, or to hire the work done.”

“You boys can do a good deal of the work yourselves,” said Jack. “You can cut the logs, and get them all ready for boring. Then you can get the pump-maker at the Mills to come over with his tools and help you bore them by hand; or you can haul your logs to him, and have them bored by machinery, he has a tread-mill, and a horse to turn it. In either case, I’ve no doubt you could pay for his labor by furnishing logs for his pumps.”

“I believe we can!” said Rufe, by this time quite warmed up to the subject. “But how about laying the logs? They have to be put pretty deep into the ground, don’t they?”

“Deep enough so that the water in them won’t freeze. A trench four feet deep will answer.”

“How wide?”

“Just wide enough for a man to get into it and lay the logs and drive the joints together. And, by the way, you’d better be sure that there are no leaks, and that the water comes through all right, before you cover your logs.”

“But there’s work in digging such a trench as that!” said Wad, shaking his head.

“So there is work in everything useful that is ever accomplished. Often the more work, the greater the satisfaction in the end. But you boys have got it in you, I see that; and, let me tell you,” said Jack, “if I were you, I would take hold of things on this place in downright earnest, and make a farm and a home to be proud of.”

“I never could get in love with work,” replied Wad. “I’m constitutionally tired, as the lazy man said. The thought of that trench makes my back ache.”

“It won’t be such a back-aching job as you suppose. You’ve only to take one stroke with a pick or shovel at a time. And as for that constitutional weariness you complain of, now is the time in your lives to get rid of it, to work it out of your blood, and lay the foundations of your manhood.”

“I must say, you preach pretty well!” observed Wad.

“I’m not much of a preacher,” replied Jack; “but I can’t help feeling a good deal, and saying just a word, when I see young fellows like you neglecting your opportunities.”

“If father and Rad would take hold with us, we would just straighten things,” said Rufe.

“Don’t wait for your father to set you an example,” replied Jack. “I don’t know about Rad, though I’ve heard you speak of him.”

“Our cousin, Radcliff,” said Rufe. “He’s a smart fellow, in his way, but he don’t like work any better than we do, and he’s off playing the gentleman most of the time.”

“Or playing the loafer,” said Wad.

“Let him stay away,” said Jack. “You’ll do better without any gentlemen loafers around.”

“Did you ever do much hard work?” Wad asked.

“What do you think?” replied Jack, with a smile.

“I think you’ve seen something of the world.”

“Yes, and I’ve had my way to make in it. I was brought up on the Erie Canal, a driver, ignorant, ragged, saucy; you wouldn’t believe me if I should tell you what a little wretch I was. All the education I have, I have gained by hard study, mostly at odd spells, in the last three years. I had got a chance to work on a farm, and go to school in winter; then I took to surveying, and came out here to be with Mr. Felton. So, you see, I must have done something besides loafing; and if I talk work to you I have earned the right to.”

“I say, boys!” cried Link, “le’s put this thing through, and have the water running in the house.”

“It will do for you to talk,” said Wad; “mighty little of the work you’ll do.”

“You’ll see, Wad Betterson! Hain’t I worked the past week as hard as either of you?”

“This thing isn’t to be pitched into in a hurry,” said Rufe, more excited than he wished to appear. “We shall have to look it all over, and talk with the pump-maker, and do up some of the farm-work that is behindhand.”

“Why don’t you take the farm of your father,” said Jack, “and see what you can make out of it? I never knew what it was to be really interested in work till I took some land with another boy, and we raised a crop on our own account.”

Rufe brightened at the idea; but Wad said he wasn’t going to be a farmer, anyway.

“What are you going to be?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Till you do make up your mind, my advice is for you to take hold of what first comes to your hand, do that well, and prepare yourself for something more to your liking.”

“I believe that’s good advice,” said Rufe. “But it is going to be hard for us to get out of the old ruts.”

“I know it; and so much the more credit you will have when you succeed.”

Jack moved away.

“Where are you going now?” Rufe asked.

“To reconnoitre a little, and see what Peakslow has done with my horse. I ride that horse home, you understand!”