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He knew! It was he who had given the searchlight signal! Waldhorn and Dorenwald! He coupled both names now again. Sim Gage himself, having a shorter distance to go than his comrades, left his dead Chinaman, and started after the man higher up. He reached the Waldhorn quarters slightly before the others.
Thus that able engineer who had built the great power dam here at the Two Forks a man who had built a half score of railroads and laid piers for bridges without number, and planned city monuments, with the boldest and most fertile of imaginations, Friedrich Waldhorn his name, was a graduate of our best institutions and those of Germany long since had been watched as closely as many another of less importance in charge of work remotely or intimately concerned with the country's public resources.
"Yes, I was glad of that it seemed like company." "It will make you feel a great deal safer. And did your husband tell you that I'm going to be a person of consequence now? I'm a Major again, not just plain doctor." "There must have been reason. The Government is alarmed?" "Yes. Our chief engineer Waldhorn well, he's still a German-American, to put it mildly.
What makes him keep this Waldhorn close as he does? Is he a prisoner?" "No, I reckon not. We all just got orders to shoot him if he tries to get away. I think Doc's holding him until he gets word in from outside. Things seems to me to move mighty slow."
Waldhorn before the war an outspoken Socialist and free-thinker may have known that he was watched must have known it when a young medical officer given military duties quite outside his own profession, was put over him in authority at the scene of his engineering triumph, and at precisely the time of its climax.
"What's up?" he said. "This here," said Sim, "is a letter that Annie brung me out of the house where them two is living. She says she found it in there. We can't make nothing out of it. Seems like this Waldhorn here had something to say to Charlie Dorenwald. Annie says it's the same Dorenwald that was up above, at the ranch, the one Wid didn't get.
"Send me out! What do you mean, sir?" "This camp is under martial law. You're under arrest, if you like to call it that way." "You're going to arrest me? Why what do you mean?" "Call it what you like. But move, now, and don't waste my time." "I beg pardon," drawled Waldhorn, smiling with a well-concealed sneer, "but isn't this a trifle sudden?
But the situation for Waldhorn was this, that if he resigned and left the place he would only come the more closely under immediate espionage. Whatever his motives, he remained, sullen and uncommunicative. Meanwhile the little camp sprawled in the sun, scattered along the plateau on the side of the mountain gorge.
That feller that was up there one you said you knew before you come out here?" "Yes. But how does this Waldhorn chump in there know anything about Charlie Dorenwald? That's what I want to know." "What chump? Mr. Waldhorn?" "I found this in his desk. Well, I wasn't rummaging in his desk, but I had to slick things up, and saw it. I only run on it by accident." "What's in it?" said Sim Gage.
In reality it was a Chinaman, the cook and body-servant of Waldhorn, engineer at the power operations! He was dead. Sim stood looking down at what he had done, trying in his slow fashion of mind to puzzle out what this man had been doing here, and why he had come. He heard the sound of running feet above him, heard challenges, shouts, every way. Others had heard the shot.
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