I wish I could tell you how tremendously all this has worked
upon me--upon all the engineers. But somehow I can't. It chokes me.
The idea is big. But the work--what shall I call that? ... Allie, if
you can, imagine some spirit seizing hold of you and making you see
difficulties as joys--impossible tasks as only things to strike fire
from genius, perils of death as merely incidents of daring adventure
to treasure in memory--well that's something like it. The idea of
the U. P. has got me. I believe in it. I shall see it
accomplished.... I'll live it all."
Allie moved her head on his shoulder, and, looking up at him with
eyes that made him ashamed of his egotism, she said, "Then, when
it's done you'll be chief of engineers or superintendent of
maintenance of way?"
She had remembered his very words.
"Allie, I hope so," he replied, thrilling at her faith. "I'll work--
I'll get some big position."
Next day ushered in for Neale a well-earned rest, and he proceeded
to enjoy it to the full.
The fall had always been Neale's favorite season. Here, as
elsewhere, the aspect of it was flaming and golden, but different
from what he had known hitherto. Dreaming silence of autumn held the
wildness and loneliness of the Wyoming hills. The sage shone gray
and purple, the ridges yellow and gold; the valleys were green and
amber and red.
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