The cook glanced behind him, and his eyes flitted about the semicircle from face to face. He was keen enough to take in the situation, and in a moment he had ducked under the couplers between two cars and disappeared. “Well,” exclaimed Young Van, pocketing his revolver, “it didn’t take you long to wind that up, Mr. Carhart.” “To wind it up?” Carhart repeated, turning with a queer expression toward his young assistant. “To begin it, you’d better say.” Then he composed his features and faced the laborers. “Get back to your work,” he said. CHAPTER V WHAT THEY FOUND AT THE WATER-HOLE Half an hour later Scribner, who was frequently back on the first division during these dragging days, was informed that Mr. Carhart wished to see him at once. Walking back to the engineers’ tent he found the chief at his table. “You wanted me, Mr. Carhart?” “Oh,”--the chief looked up--“Yes, Harry, we’ve got to get away from this absolute dependence on that man Peet. I want you to ride up ahead and bore for water. You can probably start inside of an hour. I’m putting it in your hands. Take what men, tools, and wagons you need--but find water.” With a brief “All right, Mr. Carhart,” Scribner left the tent and set about the necessary arrangements. Carhart, this matter disposed of, called a passing laborer, and asked him to tell Charlie that he was wanted at headquarters. The assistant cook--huge, raw-boned, with a good-natured and not unintelligent face--lounged before the tent for some moments before he was observed. Then, in the crisp way he had with the men, Carhart told him to step in. “Well,” began the boss, looking him over, “what kind of a cook are you?” A slow blush spread over the broad features. “Speak up. What were you doing when I sent for you?” “I--I--you see, sir, Jack Flagg was gone, and there wasn’t anything being done about dinner, and I--” “And you took charge of things, eh?” “Well--sort of, sir. You see--” “That’s the way to do business. Go back and stick at it. Wait a minute, though. Has Flagg been hanging around any?” [Illustration: “‘Well,’ began the boss, looking him over, ‘what kind of a cook are you?’”] “I guess he has. All his things was took off, and some of mine.” “Take any money?” “All I had.” “I’m not surprised. Money was what he was here for. He would have cleaned you out, anyway, before long.” “I’m not so sure of that, sir. We cleaned him out last time.” “And you weren’t smart enough to see into that?” “Well--no, I--” “Take my advice and quit gambling. It isn’t what you were built for. What did you say your name was?” “Charlie.” “Well, Charlie, you go back and get up your dinner. See that it is a good one.” Charlie backed out of the tent and returned to his kettles and pans and his boy assistants. He was won, completely.