Men there set it straight and tamped the gravel
around it. Neale and his partner went back for another, passing a
dozen couples carrying ties forward. Behind these staggered the rows
of men burdened with the heavy iron rails.
So the day's toil began.
Pat had glanced askance at Neale, and then had made dumb signs to
his fellow-laborers, indicating his hard lot in being yoked to this
new wild man on the job. But his ridicule soon changed to respect.
Presently he offered his gloves to Neale. They were refused.
"But, fri'nd, ye ain't tough loike me," he protested.
"Pat, they'll put you to bed to-night--if you stay with me," replied
Neale.
"The hell ye say! Come on, thin!"
At first Neale had no sensations of heat, weariness, thirst, or
pain. He dragged the little Irishman forward to drop the ties--then
strode back ahead of him. Neale was obsessed by a profound emotion.
This was a new beginning for him. For him the world and life had
seemed to cease when yesternight the sun sank and Allie Lee passed
out of sight. His motive in working there, he imagined, was to lay a
few rails, drive a few spikes along the last miles of the road that
he had surveyed. He meant to work this way only a little while, till
the rails from east met those from west.
This profound emotion seemed accompanied by a procession of
thoughts, each thought in turn, like a sun with satellites,
reflecting its radiance upon them and rousing strange, dreamy, full-
hearted fancies .
Pages:
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509