The Clamp

When work began next morning, Jake asked Dick if he should order the
peons to search for the clamps that had held the guard-rail.

"I think not," said Dick. "It would be better if you looked for the
things yourself."

"Very well. Perhaps you're right."

Dick wondered how much Jake suspected, particularly as he did not appear
to be searching for anything when he moved up and down among the broken
concrete. Half an hour later, when none of the peons were immediately
about, he came up with his hand in his pocket and indicated a corner
beside a block where there was a little shade and they were not likely to
be overlooked.

"I've got one," he remarked.

When they sat down Jake took out a piece of thick iron about six inches
long, forged into something like the shape of a U, though the curve was
different and one arm was shorter than the other. Much depended on the
curve, for the thing was made on the model of an old-fashioned but
efficient clamp that carpenters sometimes use for fastening work to a
bench. A blow or pressure on one part wedged it fast, but a sharp tap on
the other enabled it to be lifted off. This was convenient, because as
the work progressed, the track along the dam had to be lengthened and the
guard fixed across a fresh pair of rails.

Taking the object from Jake, Dick examined it carefully. He thought he
recognized the dint where he had struck the iron, and then, turning it
over, noted another mark. This had been made recently, because the
surface of the iron was bright where the hammer had fallen, and a blow
there would loosen the clamp. He glanced at Jake, who nodded.