THE LAST TIE
Laid in the Completion of the Pacific Railroad
May 10, 1869
That was the top inscription on the plate, followed by the names of the officers and directors of the Central Pacific.
“Heft it.”
“Whew, but it’s heavy! Is it made of mahogany?”
“No. Californy laurel; and a good solid piece, too. Eight feet long, eight inches wide and six inches deep, it is.”
“Somebody’ll steal it out of the track.”
“Oh, it won’t be left there. It’s a show tie. Those holes already drilled in it are for the special spikes to set in. Mebbe you’d like to see them, too. All right. Take a squint. Those two gold ones are from Californy—one for Mr. Durant to drive at the U. P. end, and the big one with the nugget head for Governor Stanford to drive at the C. P. end. The solid silver spike is from Nevady; they say a hundred men each hit it one lick, in the forging. That other spike is from Arizony. It’s a mixture of gold, silver and iron. And I hear tell there’s a silver spike comin’ from Montany and another from Idyho.”
When Terry rode back for his own camp, he cast calculating eye at the telegraph pole, again, with the Flag floating. It stood at the U. P. end o’ track, like an outpost marking a triumphal march across continent. High over this high country above the great Salt Lake the Starry Flag streamed in the evening breeze, challenging the world of lake and desert to show any better sight.
The last rays of the setting sun struck it full, promising it a bright tomorrow, and Terry swung his hat at it.
“Now if George only gets here early enough——!” he planned. “Gee! Hope he does.”