This day Terry was up at Wasatch, on business; George was going back with him—likewise on business at end o’ track; and Paddy Miles had the construction-train and its ’special hurry load.
“All aboard, now! On wid yez.”
There were sixteen flat-cars, and No. 119. A ride through Echo Canyon was a treat. The narrow canyon curved every which-way, was plumb full of oddly shaped figures like Hanging Rock, Sentinel Rock, Kettle Rocks, Pulpit Rock, The Great Eastern (which resembled a steamboat), and so forth—all curious to the graders and track-layers. And some of the downward pitches were ninety feet to the mile, so that the train swooped along without throttle and with brake-shoes grinding.
To sit on a pile of ties and watch the scenery spin past—that was a privilege for only employes of the U. P. Passengers of the road had no such lark.
The two boys settled themselves comfortably, with their legs hanging over the front end of the pile of ties on the first tie car back from the engine, so as to get a good view ahead. Paddy sat only a short distance behind. There was a brakeman farther along, and on one of the rear cars were a couple of Dutchmen—new hands going forward to one of the grading gangs.
Down the “Z” plunged the train (old No. 119 carefully holding back) for the first eight miles, and struck into Echo Canyon at last at the Castle Rock. The day was fine—sunny and not cold, although snow lay on the north slopes and in the shaded hollows, and the tips of the pines had scarcely commenced to green out. But spring was in the air, for spring came earlier to the west slope of the Rockies than to the east slope.
The train began to roar between the rocky walls; the engine, running almost free, whisked to right, to left with the line of heavy cars whisked after; Fireman Bill repeatedly jerked the whistle cord, and the wails jangled from wall to wall and crag to crag.
It was a glorious ride—a charge by the U. P. construction force, bringing reinforcements to the front. The boys’ hats flared back, the breeze freshly smote their faces, and every minute a new landmark in shape of pinnacle and sculpture appeared, for an instant, flashed by and was succeeded by another. Hurrah!
“Great, eh?” gasped George.
“Sure beats staging. Look at the old stage road, yonder. ’Twould take the stage four hours to make this, and we’ll do it in one.”