“Well,” mused Terry, “maybe they’ll do it and maybe they won’t; but I wish our men could have a try.”
When they went down to camp, General Dodge and General Casement were inspecting the ground in company with two visitors. One of these was a fine-looking, trimmed-beard man in black broad-cloth (somewhat dusty) and black soft hat with wide brim.
“That’s the Honorable Leland Stanford, ex-governor of California—the Central’s president, and a powerful smart man,” said the report in the U. P. camp.
The other was an energetic, heavy-set man, with masterful gray-blue eyes, a determined mouth, and face smooth-shaven except for a thick moustache.
He was Mr. Charles Crocker, the Central’s road-builder—the man who had hustled the work while Governor Stanford in the West and Mr. Huntington, the vice-president, in the East, managed the money end.
The two Central officials started to ride back to their own line.
“By this time tomorrow, gentlemen, we’ll be nearing the end of our ten miles,” Governor Stanford bantered, on parting, as they turned their horses.
“You have our best wishes; you can’t come on any too fast, for us—but we’ll be here to check up on you,” laughed General Dodge.
He and General Casement passed near Terry and George, who, like the other men, respectfully saluted. General Dodge checked his horse.
“What do you boys think of this ten-mile-in-a-day proposition?” he queried, with a twinkle in his tired eyes. “How about it, Terry? You’ve watched our Paddies for 800 miles, and General Casement says they can beat the world.”