"I believe we run short now and then, but we have a big lot being landed now. As our sheds will be pretty full, I could let you have a quantity if you like." "Thanks, but no," said the merchant. "I do not think anybody would buy it from me for some time, and it is bad to keep when one's store is damp." Dick, who drank a glass of wine with him, went away in a thoughtful mood. He wondered where Don Ramon got his cement, and meant to find out, though he saw that caution would be needed. He owed much to Fuller and had made his master's business his. Now it looked as if Fuller were being robbed and although he had, no doubt, cunning rogues to deal with, Dick determined that the thing must be stopped. When he returned to the dam he went to Bethune's hut and found him lying in his hammock. "Whose duty is it to check the storekeeper's lists?" he asked. "I suppose you strike a balance between the goods delivered him and the stuff he hands out for use on the works." "It's done, of course," said Bethune. "I haven't examined the books myself; Francois, the Creole clerk, is responsible. However, one would imagine you had duties enough without taking up another, but if you mean to do so, you had better begin soon. Your energy won't stand this climate long." "I don't know what I may do yet," Dick replied. "Still, it struck me that our stores might be sold in the town." "I expect they are, to some extent," Bethune carelessly agreed. "That kind of thing is hard to stop anywhere, and these folks are very smart at petty pilfering. Anyway, you might get yourself into trouble by interfering and any small theft you stopped probably wouldn't pay for the time you'd have to spend on the job. Leave it alone, and take matters as you find them, is my advice." Dick talked about something else, but when he went back to his shack he knew what he meant to do. CHAPTER VIII AN INFORMAL COURT One morning, soon after Fuller and his daughter had gone home, Dick stood at a table in the testing house behind the mixing sheds. The small, galvanized iron building shook with the throb of engines and rattle of machinery, and now and then a shower of cinders pattered upon the roof; for the big mill that ground up the concrete was working across the road. The lattice shutters were closed, for the sake of privacy, and kept out the glare, though they could not keep out the heat, which soaked through the thin, iron walls, and Dick's face was wet with perspiration as he arranged a number of small concrete blocks. Some of these were broken, and some partly crushed. Delicate scales and glass measures occupied a neighboring shelf, and a big steel apparatus that looked rather like a lever weighing machine stood in the shadow. Where the draught that came through the lattices flowed across the room, Bethune lounged in a canvas chair, and another man, with a quiet, sunburned face, sat behind him. This was Stuyvesant, whose authority was only second to Fuller's.