Bob Hazard, dam builder — Reading Companion

erybody on the train and many tired travelers saw the scenery through his enthusiastic eyes, finding beauty in what ordinarily would have seemed to them commonplace.

One thing only served to disturb his perfect enjoyment: This was a conviction not to be denied, that his father was hurt by his action. As he thought over their talks he knew that underneath the approval his father had given, lay a deep disappointment. That Bob would not be a lawyer was a hard blow; the knowledge that his son’s choice of an occupation in life would mean almost constant separation, must hurt the elder Hazard, who thought the world of his only son.

Bob realized these things keenly and they were painful to him, yet he could not bring himself to give up his plan to be an engineer.

“Dad made his own way, tackled the job he wanted and made good. I’ve _got_ to do the same. Probably _his_ father wanted him to do something quite different. I’ll ask him about that some time. Besides, if I just took up Dad’s business, it wouldn’t seem right somehow.”

But thoughts such as these occurred to him less and less as the distance between him and the East grew greater. By the time he dropped off the train at Williams, Arizona, where he changed to the day coach that would take him to the Grand Canyon, his mind was so full of the future that there was no room for the things he had left behind him.

When the jolting train stopped at the last station, the boy stepped off almost at Whiskers’ side. Dropping his suit case, he caught the hand that was stretched out to him and was happy when he saw the man’s grin of welcome.

“Good work, Bob, my boy! It’s great to see you! Have a good trip? You’ve grown since I saw you--how’re the other fellows? How’s Big Chris?”

“Fine! Fine!” answered Bob. “And it’s good to see you too. I’m awfully glad you’ve got a place for me. Is the job here at the Canyon?”

Steve Whitney shook his head. “No--but I’ll tell you all about it as we go to the hotel. Grab your satchel and come along.”

“Right you are, Whisk--I mean, Mr. Whitney,” Bob answered in some confusion. “I suppose you’ll have to be _Mister_ Whitney now since you are the Big Boss. Last summer you were the fellow who was so good to us kids and we took liberties.”

“You are right, Bob. I am the chief and starting from to-day I will have to be Mr. Whitney. There is another rodman here and it would be bad for discipline if you called me by that--‘vacation’ name, let’s call it. But we had mighty good times when I was just Whiskers, didn’t we?”

“You bet,” answered Bob. “I’ll never forget ’em.” For a moment he said nothing, letting his thoughts drift. Then--“But where _is_ the job? You said it wasn’t here.”

“No, just now there isn’t any job at all--”

“What?” exploded the boy, anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” the engineer assured him; “there will be plenty of work. I have just finished a project in Colorado and am waiting for further orders. I told you to meet me here because I wanted you to see the greatest natural wonder we have in the United States, the Grand Canyon, and I am going to work you so hard later on that you won’t have another chance to get here before you go back to college. And I want your first sight of it to be at sunset. Then it is most wonderful.”

By this time they had reached the hotel.

“Go and wash up and come down quickly,” urged Bob’s new boss. “It’s almost sunset, and I don’t want you to miss it! I’ll wait for you here on the porch.”

Bob wasted no time and a few minutes later joined Mr. Whitney. The veranda of the hotel is built almost on the edge of the great rift in the surface of the earth. Bob started to pull up a chair to the railing where his friend was sitting but stopped as the other rose.

“I’ve got a better place than this to see it from,” said Mr. Whitney. “A lot of folks will be coming out here presently and too many people spoil the thing. Come along.”