.. There's near five thousand men in
the gangs back along the line--coming fast. They've all got just one
idea--success. The U. P. R. is going through. Soon out here the
rails will meet. ... Colohan, make it a matter of your preference.
Will you stick?"
"You bet!" he replied, heartily. A ruddy glow emanated from his
face. Neale was quick to sense that this Irishman, like Casey, had
an honest love for the railroad, whatever he might feel for the
labor.
"Get on the job, then," ordered Neale, cheerily. "We'll hustle while
there's daylight. We'll have that trestle ready when the rails get
here."
Coffee laughed scornfully. "Neale, that sounds fine, but it's
impossible until the trains get here with piles and timbers, iron,
and other stuff. We meant to run up a trestle then."
"I dare say," replied Neale. "But the U. P. R. did not start that
way, and never would finish that way."
"Well, you'll have your troubles," declared Coffee. "Troubles! ...
Do you imagine I'm going to think of MYSELF?" retorted Neale. These
fellows were beginning to get on his nerves. Coffee grew sullen,
Blake shifted uneasily from foot to foot, Colohan beamed upon Neale.
"Come on with them orders," he said.
"Right! ... Send men up on the hills to cut and trim trees for piles
and beams.
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