Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 64, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 March 1917 — WEB OF STEEL [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

WEB OF STEEL

This Is a Thrilling Story of American Life as Strong, Courageous Men Live It Copyritht by riemintf H. Revell Co. 4

By CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY and CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY. Jr.

,-__Axitliox’JUid Clertymin - ' - Civh ■■■Engineer

YOUNG BERTRAM MEADE LEARNS IN A FRIGHTFUL EXPERIENCE JUST HOW MUCH HELEN ILLINGWORTH MEANS TO HIM

The Martlet Const ruction Company is building a great international bridge planned by Bertram-Meade, Sr., a famous engineer. His son. Bertram Meade. Jr., resident engineer at the bridge, is in love with Helen Illingworth, daughter of Colonel Illingworth, president of . the company.- Yeung Meade questioned his father s judgment on the strength of certain important steel beams in the gigantic structure but was laughed to scorn. He still has private doubts, though outwardly agreeing with his elder. —s

CHAPTER ll—Continued. - In spite of herself the woman looked ht him. “But now?” she whispered as he hesitated, and then she turned her head half fearful of his answer. “I am almost afraid to say it,” he said, lowering his voice to match her own. "a soldier of steel,” she said, “and afraidl” "' .Z ~ - - “Well, then, all that was the second now takes the third place.” “And before your father comes?” * But she did not give hi nrtime to an-, swer. “Come,” she said. ' let us go_QuL bn the bridge.” " “It’s a rough place for you. Those little slippers you wear—” He looked down, and as if in obedience to his glance she outthruht her foot from her gown. It was not the smallest foot that ever upbore a woman. Quite the contrary. Which is not saying it was too large, not at all. It was just sight for her height and figure. and its shape and shoe left nothing to be desired. “Never mind the slippers.” she said; “they are stronger than they took. They’ll serve.” “But the distance between here and the bridge is inches deep in dust.” “Dust!" she exclaimed in dismay. “I don't mind rough w aiking, but dust—” . “I never Thought of that," admitted the man. “The fact is I have thought of nothing but you since ! saw but now we’ll have to go back or—” “I shall not go back,” she answered firmly, _ He stepped down off the platform, and before she knew what he would be at, he lifted her straight up in his arms. He did not carry her like a baby, he held her erect, crushed against his breast, and before she had time to utter a protest, or even to say a word, he started through the dusty roadway toward the bridgehead. It was a strange position. She knew she ought to protest, but the words would not come. Whilst she was trying to think them up, they had crossed the little desert that intervened betweep.the portal of the bridge and the end of the platform. Then he set her down gently. “Thank you,” she said simply, “that was very nice of you. You are wonderfully strong.” The moon, by this times had passed the floor level and the cross-bracing upon track and floor beams and stringers. The silence of the half-light, the mystery of it all oppressed them a little. It was with beating hearts that they pressed on.

CHAPTER 111. Fall and Revelation. “It’s rather confused In here,” said the man, “but we will soon get out toward the end and then the view is magnificent. You can see up and down the river for miles and the night boat will be along in a few minutes.” “Isn’t that it?” asked the woman, pointing up the river to where a cluster of lights rounded a huge bend not “Tar'aw6y, and swung out in midstream. “Yes,” said the man, “if we listen I think we can hear her.” They both stopped and, sure enough, faintly across the water came the noise of clanking paddles of the big river steamer. With that sound also mingled the song of the night wind, for a wonder comparatively gentle, making strange, weird harmonies as it sifted through the taut and rigid bars of steel. She listened enchanted with the sound. . . The big floor beams extended from one side to the other of the bridge, between the trusses at intervals of fifty feet. At right angles to them and six feet apart, the stringers ran lengthways parallel to the trusses. Here and there pieces.of timber falsework had been thrown across the stringers for the convenience of the workmen, hut as these two slowly moved toward midstream at last these pieces becanie fewer, and finally there was nothing to be seen but the heavy jloor beams and the lighter stringers. ” After they passed the lop of the pier and got beyond the'small space of river bank on which the pier was set, there was nothing between them and the water, now moonlit and quivering, except these of steel on either hand beyond the planking in the Cracks.

“Have you a clear head?” asked the man. “I mean does it affect you to be on high elevations? Do you get dizzy ?” “I never have,” was the answer, “but —” -■=— —- “I think I’ll hold you.” was the reply. He grasped her firmly by the arm. The loose wrap she was wearing over her shoulders did- not cover her arms, and it was a bare arm that he took in his hand. “I beg your pardon,” he said quickly, “but —” “It doesn’t matter. I understand. You would better hold me. I might slip.” There was something electric and compelling in the pressure of his strong hand upon the firm flesh of her round arm. She shrank closer to him, again unthinkingly, by a natural impulse.

The moon was now well clear of the brow of the highest hill. Its yellow was turning to silver and in its cold and beautiful illumination the whole river flowed bright beneath them. Every inch of the bridge was now clearly revealed in the white, passionless light. Fifty feet away it ended in the air. They were now almost directly beneath the traveler, near the end of the suspended span. Its huge legs sprawled out like those of a gigantic auimaTon the extreme edges of the bridge on either side ahove : their heads. The wooden platform on the track ran out half the distance to the bridge end. Slowly the two walked along it until but a few feet were left between them and therrakedfloor beams and the stringers carrying the ties to which the rails were bolted and the planks laid. By the side of the track on the top of the stringers had been placed a pile of material surmounted by a large flat plate of steel, which lay level upon it. It. was triangular In shape, the blunt point inward. The base which was about six feet wide paralleled the course of the river. The plate on the top of the pile was raised about three feet above the level of the track. They stopped abreast of it. “Can’t we go any further?” asked the girl in low tones, still close to the young man, who still lightly clasped her arm. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be safe to go any farther,” he said. “I want to see IhH^team^- Jt wlll“They have no business to pass under the" bridge,” said Meade. “They’ve been warned hundreds of times and or-ini<nTtrn-t-r> lu-en issued ." There dsjn!- • ways danger that something might fall.” “Why can’t I stand up there?* “On that gusset plate ?”7“Is that what you call it?” “Yes. it -bears the same relation to structural steel that a gusset does to a woman’s dress.” “Exactly. But can’t I stand on it?” “Wait,” he answered. He climbed to the center of it, lifted himself up and down on his feet to test it, and found It solid apparently. “I think so, but I shall*have to put you up,” he said at last as he lifted her up and set her down on her feet Im the middle of the plate of steel. “Oh, there- comes- the steamerA’she cried. “I can see it beautifully from here.” „ “Be careful. You must not move. Stand perfectly steady. I am not so sure of that plate.” He reached over from where he stood on the track below Iter and by her side and gathered the material of her dress in an iron grasp. “I do not think that is hecessary,” she said. “This plate seems as solid as the rest of the bridge and —oh, there s the jsteamerl She’s right under us.” The big river craft was filled with light and laughter. The wind fortunately blew the smoke away from the bridge so that they had a clear and perfect view of her. There was a band playing aboard her. They heard the music above (the beat Qf the whirling paddles, the song of the rising wind. The passengers were congregated about the rails oh the upper decks staring upward. The bridge was as fascinating to' them as It was to the people ashore evidently. ’ “HoW interesting,” said the delighted girl. “Why don’t you come up here yourself, you can see so much better?” The man had dropped her gown, lifted his right foot to the pile on the stringent to follow her suggestion. Thoughtlessly she stepped toward the outer end to give him room, quite for-

getful of his caution. Before he could complete his step or warn her of the danger, it now bent forward. It tilted distinctly. In spite of herself, Helen Illingworth was carried still farther forward as she sought to regain her balance. The piece of steel began to. slip downward, grating on the pile of beams as it moved; another second and it would be off and on its way ir■.revocably. Meade threw himself at the girl. He lunged out and caught her just as she wtts slipping downward with the plate now almost perpendicular. To catch her he ha*d to step to the very edge of the planking beyond which the rails ran naked on the ties. With a tremendous effort he caught her by the waist, swung her up and in, I and stood fast on the brink quivering, heaving himself desperately backward I as he sought to maintain his balance and take the backward step that meant ! safety. | A wild shout rose from the steamer as the huge plate like the| blade of a mighty guillotine, straight down through the air. If it had struck the boat, it would have cut through like a knife. Fortunately it cleared the gangway by inches. In a second it had disappeared. ‘ Screams, shouts, arose from the boat which promptly sheered off into midstream. ~~ Helen Illingworth’S- back had been toward Meade as he seized her. She had seen as lie had everything that happened. Recovering himself at last, lie stepped .back slowly, almost dragging her, until they were a safe distance from the edge. His face was ghastly white in the moonlight. Sweat covered his forehead. He was shaking like a wind-blown leaf. “The whole world went black when I saw you go,” he said slowly. “Do you care that much?” asked the girl, trembling herself. There was no necessity for maidenly reticence now. “Care?” said the man. “Care?” “I’m all right now.” “You are more fortunate than I.- I ' stood to lose you, you stood to lose* only life. Don’t you see? Can’t you understand?” Suddenly he swept-her to his breast |-as this- time -she-faced-him.- -She w r atr very nearTiim and she did not make the slightest resistance. She had waited for this hour and she was glad. They had faced death too nearly for any hesitation now. She knew he loved her, and knew that he had saved her at the imminent risk of his own life. There had been swift yet eternal moments when it seemed that both of them, trembling on the brink, would follow the downward rush of the gusset plate. Now as he strained her to him. she lifted her face to him, glad that she was tall enough for him to kiss her with so slight a. bend of the head. There, under the great trusses of steel, amid the huge, gaunt, massive evidences of the power of the might, of the mastery of—man, -two"hearts” “spoke to each6fTier“Tn"tlie‘ silence, and -told the story that was old before the first smelter had ever turned the' first ore into the first bit of iron, before Tubal Cain ever smote the anvils the story of love that began with creation, that will outlast all the iron in all the. hills of the earth—that is as eternal as it is divine! ; After that wild embrace, that first rapturous meeting of lips, he released

her slightly, though he still held her closely and she was quite content. Tni quite calm now," he began, “that is, I am as composed as any man could be who is holding you In his arms. But if it had not been for me, you would never have been in danger. It was my fault. I should have made sure. I shall never forgive myself.’* “But if I had not been in danger I might not now be here in your arms. And if I were, not here,” she went on swiftly, too happy in her love to be mindful of anything else, “I certainly would'not be doing—this.” , *

And of her own motion she kissed him in the moonlight. “And if you were not doing this,” said he, making the proper return, “I might notTiave had the courage to tell you.” “You haven’t told me anything—in words,” she answered, fain to hear from his lips what she weil knew from the beating of-his heart. _ '■: - “It’s not too late then to tell you that I love you, that I am yours. To give myself to you seems to be the highest, possibility in life, if you will only take me.” “And do you love me more than the bridge ' — -- “Mare than all the bridges in the world, past, present and to come; more than anything or anybody. I tell you I never knewwhatlove was Tor what life was until I saw you sliding to your denth. If I had not succeeded I should have followed'you.” “I felt that, too,” she answered dreamily. “We must go back, dearest,” he said at last, “I am so fearful for you even now that I am almost unwilling to try it. Every time I glance down through these interspaces between the stringers my blood runs cold.” “You supported me before; I will support you now,” laughed the woman. woman. —“No,” said the man; ‘“we will go together." They turned toward the shore. He took her hand and slipped his other arm about her just as simply and naturally ns if they had been any humble lover and. his lass in the countryside. By and by they got to the end of the bridge. Far down the platform they could see the lights of the car. “Listen,” she said as they walked slowly along. “You must not tell father anything about this little accident.” -■— - ■ “I obey, but why not?” “It would only worry him, and it was my fault.” « —“No, mine.” • “I will not hear you say it.” “But I must speak to your father about —” “And the sooner the better; he is in _gopd_humor with you and the bridge now. I have heard him speak well of you. I believe he will be glad to give me to you.” “And if not?” “I should hate to grieve my father, but —” She turned and looked at him in the moonlight, her glorious golden head, her neck, her shoulders, her arms bare and beautiful in the celestial illumination. He seized her hand and lifted it to his lips as a devotee, and she understood the reason for the little touch of qld-world formality and reserve, when naught but his will prevented him from taking her to his heart and making her lips, her eyes, her face, his - -r ~ “Now may God deal with me as I deal with you,” lie said fervently, “if I ever fail at least to try with all my ■fiiarFafia“soul and strength to measure up to your sweetness and light.” -“Myprayerformyself. too,” _she whispered. “You need it not.”..— x “You must wait here,” she said, deeply touched, as ’ they had now reached the steps of the car, “until I have changed my dress; father would notice anybody would - that tear. When I have finished I will come back to you and then we will seek him and tell him.”

Accordingly Meade stood obedienfly waiting outside the’ car in the shadow jit cast. There was no one about. The I servants had gone to bpd. The porter of the car was nodding in his quarters, waiting’for the time to turn out the lights. The engineer had the long platform all to himself. After a time he chose to walk quietly up and down, thinking. The future looked very fair f to* him. “Bert,” a sweet voice came to him out of the darkness. He turned to discover her standing in the door of the ■ car dressed as she should have! been for such an excursion had she ,at first followed her father’s wise suggestion. His heart thrilled to the use of the familiar name. “Bert, I'm coming down to you.” Hand in hand they walked to the rear of the car, where the observation platform was still brightly lighted. Abbott had gone and the other three men were on their feet, They were about to separate for the night, although it was still rather early. “Father,” said his daughter out of the darkness. “Oh, you’re there,” answered the I colonel. “I wondered when you were coming back. I was just thinking of going to fetch you. Is Mr. Meade —?” “I’m here, sir.” “Good night, gentlemen,” said the colonel as the others turned away, leavitfg him alone on the platform. He camp to the edge and leaned over the brass railing. , ' „ “Are you two going to make a night of it?” he asked jocosely. . “Colonel Illingworth,” began Meade. “Father,” said his daughter at the same time,-“we have something toaay to you.”

Colonel Illingworth opened the-gate, lifted the pintform, and descended the steps. “Here I am,” he said as he stopped by the two. His daughter took him by the arm and they walked down the platform so as to be out of any possible hearing -frcan the ciir - “Now,” she said to Meade, who followedhcT; —7" His heart was beating almost as rapidly as it had on the bridge, and for exactly the same reason —fear of losing- her. He tried to speak. “Well, young man?” said Illingworth. ilicklug the ashes from his cigar and wishing to get it over, “you said you had something to, say to me.” “It’s a very hard thing to say, sir." He looked helplessly at the girl, but she was -speechless. It was his task. If she 1 * were not worth asking for, she was not worth having, she might have said. “Well, sir,” he began desperately, “Isjpve your daughter, Helen. I want to marry her.” “Um ph, "Mid th* colonel, “I supposed as much, S£»w long have you and Helen known each other?” “Over a year, sir, but I loved her from the very moment I saw her. I did not dare I didn’t dream, I never imagined, and strange as it may seem, sir, she—seems to love me.” “Of course I do,” said Helen, reallzing that it was now high time for her to come to the rescue of her lover, “and so would any other woman.” “You know, of course, that while I am not rich, I am not poor, and I can support my wife in every comfort, sir,” urged the' man, greatly relieved by-the woman’s prompt avowal. “She’ll need a few luxuries besides, I’m thinking.” “Yes, of course, sir, I’ll see that she gets them. This bridge is going to make us fill famous, and I shall have my father’s influence and —” “When the bridge is finished,” said the colonel decisively, “come to me and “you~shall have my daughter.”— “Oh. father, the bridge won’t be finished for—” began the girl. “I understand, sir,” answered the engineer, too happy at her father’s consent .to make any difficulties over any reasonable conditions he might impose. “Yes, Helen, it’s all right; your father is right. This Job’s got to be done beforeT—” “Oh, don’t say before you tackle another,’’ protested the girl, half disappointed, and yet seeing the reasonableness of both men, while the colonel laughed grimly. “That’s about the size of it,” said the old man, “no matter how you put it. One thing at a time. Meade, I don’t know anybody on earth I would rather have for my son-in-law than a clean, honest, able American with a record like yours. A man who can look me in the eye and grasp me by the like'ttrts."He put out his hand as he spoke. Meade’s own palm met it and the two men shook hands 'unemotionally But firmly, after the manner of the selfrestrained, practical American, who is always fearful of a scene and does not wear'hts heart upon his sleeve. The colonel threw away his cigar, slipped his arm around his daughter's waist, kissed her softly on the forehead. “I hate to Ipse you, Helen. I hate to give you up to anyone. We have been very happy together since your mother died, leaving you a little girl jo me; but it had to come, I suppose, and perhaps I shall be glad in the end. Good night, Meade. You will be cpming in presently, Helen?”

He turned and walked away as they answered him. They watched him go slowly with bended head. They watched him climb, rather heavily, up the steps to the car —that he was an old man seemed rather suddenly borne In upon them. He Stood for a moment in the light, smiling, remembering, and then turned and marched within the car. He switched the light out as he passed down the corridor. ‘.“Wasn’t he splendid?”,said Helen, tizhen she had time to breathe and freedom to speak. -> “One of the finest old men on earth. He and father would make a great team.” “I was Interested in the bridge, before,” said the woman, “but think how I shall watch It now. You must write me every day and tell me every inch that you have gained.” “Trust me, I’ll measure It In millimeters.” “And now, sweet love, good night,” she whispered. And she laughed as she looked back at him through the door.

CHAPTER IV. ——• The Deflection In the Member. Three days after the departure of' the Illingworth party the young engineer fell 111 with follicular tonsilltls, Which Is about the meanest small thing that can lay a strong man low. He fretted over his enforced absence from the work and in the end had to pay for that very fretting, for he got up too soon<and Went out too quickly, and was promptly forced to bed again as a consequence of his impatience.

Now. after t week’s confinement in his cabin, he felt strong enough to venture out again and to attack his problems. They were personal problems now, much more Intimate than before, was building not only tllfe bridge but weaving in its web of steel his own future happiness. Of course_he had been able to get out On the rough porch of his galvan- , ized iron shack where he had the* bridge in full view, and the day before "he had eVen walked unsteadily down to the* riwer bank, where he had been equally surprised and delighted at the progress that had been made. Abbott was a driver after his own heart. Really things seemed tu have gone on just as well without’him as if he had been on the job. He had not been lonely in his illness, for all of the chief men conuected wltlrftte cDnstructlon had done their best to beguile the tedium of hia hours by visiting him whenever they could spare the time. _____ ——- Abbott had- been especially kind In his somewhat rough-and-ready, way. The big construction superintendent was fond of Meade, although he—undervalued him. He regarded him moreas a theoretical than a practical man and the inevitable antagonism between the theorist and the practical man. when they are not combined in one personality, was latent in Abbott’s heart. Nightly, he brought to Meade details of the progress of the work. That evening, just before leaving, he remarked in the most casual manner in the world, as if it were a matter of little or no importance, that C-10-R was a trifle out of line. Now C-10-R was the biggest member of the great right-hand truss on the north side of the river. It consisted of four parallel composite webs, each

formed of several plates of steel riveted together. These wehswvere connected across their upper and lower edges by diagonal latticing made of steel angle bars. C-10-R and Its parallel companion member, C-10-L, in the lefttruss, carried the entire weights of the cantilever span to the shoe resting on the pier. These members were sixty feet long and five feet wide. The webs were over four feet deep and in size and responsibility the great struts were the most important of the whole structure., "To S&y of line meant that it had buckled, or bent, or was springing, and had departed from that rigid rectangularlty and parallelisih''viTflch was absolutely necessary ,to,, maintain the stability and Immobility of the truss and the strength of the bridge. To the theorist nothing on earth could be- more terribly -portentous than such a statement, if it were true. To the practical man, who, to do him justice, had never dealt with such vast structures — and he was not singular in that because the bridge was unique on account of its size—the deflection noted meant little or nothing. “Good God 1” exclaimed Meade, aflame on the instant with anxious apprehension. The night was wgnn and he was dressed in his pajamas and had been lying on the bed. As if he had beep shocked into action he sat up, forgetful of his weakness. “Deflection 1” he fairly Shouted at Abbott, who regarded him with half-amused astonishment, "a camber in C-10-R? Why didn’t you tell me?” By this time Meade had got his feet into his slippers and was standing erect. “It isn’t enough to make any difference,” answered Abbott qiflckly, perhaps a little disdainfully. “It makes all the difference on earth,” cried Meade. “It means the ruin of the bridge." He reached for his jacket, hanging at the foot of the bed, and dragged it on him. , “Don’t worry about it, youngster.” said Abbott rather contemptuously, although he meant to be soothing. ‘Tin going to jack Tt Into line and—here,” he cried as Meade bolted out of the door, “you’d better not excite yourself that way. Come back to bed, man, and —”

How young Meade, faces a great crisis and what ha does In trying to avert serious trouble is told in a thrilling chapter in the next Installment.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

He Lunged Out and Caught Her.

"When the Bridge Is Finished.”