Caleb squeezed himself into his diving-dress, and began operations, Captain Joe fastening the water-tight cuffs over his wrists, leaving his hands free. The diver then picked up the rod with its adjustable target and plunged across the shallow basin, the water coming up to his hips. Sanford meanwhile arranged the tripod on the platform, leveled his instrument, directing Caleb where to hold the rod, and began his survey. Captain Joe stood one side recording his findings with a big blue lead pencil on a short strip of plank. The first entries showed that the two segments of the circle—the opposite segments, southeast and northwest—varied barely three tenths of an inch in height. This, of course, was immaterial over so large a surface. The result proved conclusively that Carleton’s claim that one section of the concrete was six inches too low was absurd. “I’m afraid I shall have to decide against you this time, Mr. Carleton,” said Sanford pleasantly. “Run your eye through this transit; you can see yourself what it shows.” “Right or wrong,” broke out Carleton, now thoroughly angry, both over his defeat and at the half-concealed, jeering remarks of the men, “it’s got to go up six inches, or not a cut stone will be laid. That’s what I’m here for, and what I say _goes_.” “But please take the transit and see for yourself, Mr. Carleton,” urged Sanford. “I don’t know nothin’ about _your_ transit, nor who fixed it to suit you,” snarled Carleton. Sanford bit his lip, and made no answer. There were more important things to be done in the building of a light than the resenting of such insults or quarreling with a superintendent. The skipper, however, to whom the superintendent was a first experience, and who took his answer as in some way a reflection on his own veracity, walked quickly toward him with his fist tightly clinched. His big frame towered over Carleton’s. “Thank you, Captain Brandt,” said Sanford, noticing the skipper’s expression and intent. “But Mr. Carleton isn’t in earnest. _His_ transit is not here, and we cannot tell who fixed that.” The men laughed, and the skipper stopped and stood aside, awaiting any further developments that might require his aid. “In view of these measurements,” asked Sanford, as he held before Carleton’s eyes the piece of plank bearing Captain Joe’s record, “do you still order the six inches of concrete put in?” “Certainly I do,” said Carleton. His ugly temper was gradually being hidden under an air of authority. Sanford’s tact had regained him a debating position. “And you take the responsibility of the change?” “I do,” replied Carleton in a blustering voice. “Then please put that order in writing,” said Sanford quietly, “and I will see it done as soon as the tide lowers.”