“Reckon I can. Look around the north end of the lake, to that humpy point that sticks into it. Wish I had a glass.”
“I see! Anyhow, I think I see—looks like there was a gang at work on top the ridge.”
“Jim Bridger or Sol Judy could tell. That’s Promontory Point, and both lines cross it.”
“You don’t see any rails, though! That’s only end o’ grade—the real grade. C. P. end o’ track is clear the other side of Promontory, and Promontory’s fifty miles.”
“But look at our own grade, boy! It’s almost to Promontory, itself.”
“Hi!” George chuckled. “Reckon we’re bound right through, across Utah for Humboldt Wells in Nevada. And when those two grades mix, some day, there’s liable to be tall doings between the Paddies and the Chinks.”
Excitement continued to reign in Ogden. Matters had taken a surprising turn. The Union Pacific was here first; nobody could deny that, and it proceeded to make good its foothold by occupying all the ground possible, with Pat Miles laying a maze of switches and side-tracks under the direction of Major Hurd. For Ogden was the key to the Salt Lake Valley and the vast trade with the Mormon settlers who would ship out produce and ship in supplies. Salt Lake City was only thirty-five miles south—a branch road would be built to it, of course. Then——
But the Central people also were claiming Ogden as a terminal. They had jumped across 100 miles of country and with Mormon help were running a roadbed out of Ogden and eastward up Weber Canyon, for Echo City, forty miles! They had filed a map, at Washington, showing that their line was being completed into Ogden and beyond—and almost on the very day that the Union Pacific track had entered Ogden the Central Pacific vice-president, Mr. C. P. Huntington, had been given by the Government a portion of the payment due, at $32,000 a mile, on that new division of the road.
“Now if the Gover’mint’s ag’in us——!” Pat complained. “Sure, have we got to stop right here, when our eyes are set on Humboldt Wells, 200 mile beyant, an’ the ingineers have marked the way, an’ the tracks are ready to foller. Not a single rail can the C. Pay. show, inside a hundred miles. B’ gorry, though, they have smart min, not countin’ their pig-tailed haythen.”
“We’re going on!” George announced.