Only, they had little
conception of the titanic labor involved in the building.
For Neale the months were hard, swift, full. It came to him that
love of the open and the wild was incorporated in his ambition for
achievement. He wondered if he would have felt the one without the
other. Camp life and the daily climbing over the ridges made of him
a lithe, strong, sure-footed mountaineer. They made even the horse-
riding cowboy a good climber, though nothing, Neale averred, would
ever straighten Larry's bow legs.
Only two incidents or accidents marred the work and pleasure of
those fruitful weeks.
The first happened in camp. There was a surly stake-driver by the
name of Shurd who was lazy and otherwise offensive among hard-
working men. Having been severely handled by Neale, he had nursed a
grievance and only waited for an opportunity for revenge. Neale was
quick-tempered, and prone to sharp language and action when
irritated or angered. Shurd, passing through the camp, either drunk
or unusually surly, had kicked Neale's instrument out of his way.
Some one saw him do it and told Neale. Thereupon Neale, in high
dudgeon, had sought out the fellow. Larry King, always Neale's
shadow, came slouching after with his cowboy's gait. They found
Shurd at the camp of the teamsters and other laborers.
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