"I never saw
that stream look like that since I've been here; there must be a
frightful pressure now on McGowan's retaining walls. We should
have a close shave if anything gave way above us. Our own
culvert's working all right, but it's taxed now to its utmost."
Jack unhooked his water-proof from a nail behind the door--he had
began putting on his rubber boots again before MacFarlane finished
speaking.
"He will have to pay the bills, sir, if anything gives way--" Jack
replied in a determined voice. "Garry told me only last week that
McGowan had to take care of his own water; that was part of his
contract. It comes under Garry's supervision, you know."
"Yes, I know, and that may all be so, Breen," he replied with a
flickering smile, "but it won't do us any good,--or the road
either. They want to run cars next month."
The door again swung wide, and a man drenched to the skin, the
water glistening on his bushy gray beard stepped in.
"I heard you were here, sir, and had to see you. There's only four
feet lee-way in our culvert, sir, and the scour's eating into the
underpinning; I am just up from there.
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