Brent managed to get along pretty well with everything but work, and in severing diplomatic relations with this he usually found himself persona non grata with Jane and her strongest ally, Miss Liz. For Jane, more than all of them, realized the blessings a railroad would bring to her people in that wild area beyond Snarly Knob. She knew how each artery leading from the virgin heart of those mountains, carrying to the world its stream of warmth, would return twofold riches to the benighted denizens of their antiquity. She knew that through each vein from the distant centers of the world's culture would flow back a broader understanding of life, its responsibilities, ambitions, opportunities. To her, the little road was a savior, to such a degree God-sent, that it seemed a sacrilege to let it halt. Moreover, since Brent came, she felt that the Colonel had been given fresh inspiration to imbibe. It had not occurred to her to reverse this indictment, which might have been done with an equal amount of truth. At any rate, she had lost patience with the good-looking engineer, while the Colonel was finding him more and more attractive.
He arose now as the men dismounted, stretched again, and smiled down at them.
"Ah, sir," the Colonel cried, "I'm glad you are home in time to join us!"
"I've just been joining," he laughed, "but, of course, if you can't get along without me—" he waved a hand toward his empty goblet. Uncle Zack had made provision for this—Uncle Zack, who believed that a thoroughbred gentleman should always be "jes' a li'l bit toddied up."
Dale stood at the bottom step staring with the open curiosity characteristic of his kind, and convinced that he was gazing upon the most elegant gentleman in all creation. No detail of the toilette escaped his minute scrutiny—from the white buckskin shoes to the white cravat, from the immaculate linen to the flashing teeth; and for a second time that day his eyes lowered to pass slowly over the crudeness of his own attire.
The Colonel saw this and smiled, but it was not a mirthful smile. His former interest had become quickened by this helpless and pathetic look, and mentally he strengthened a previous resolution.
"Brent," he said, "I want you to know Dale Dawson! Mr. McElroy," he turned to the still staring mountaineer, "is staying with me, and making a survey for the railroad we hope to see running through here before long, sir."
"I hain't never seed a train but onct," Dale exclaimed, shaking hands with more open admiration. "Then hit 'most scared the gizzard outen me! How do ye make 'em?"
"Oh," Brent laughed, "screws, and nuts, and hammers, and things. But I don't make trains, old fellow; I'm just making the survey!"
"Good-bye everybody!" Bob gurgled, swinging into the saddle. The Colonel called him sternly back.