The C. P. head officials had gone down track, to the Pullman on the end of the U. P. special train. Presently the whole party, for both roads, issued from the Pullman, and came on. George chuckled.
“Talk about ‘last ties.’ That one Mr. Durant has on beats the C. P. tie all to pieces!”
“It’s the last thing in ties, all right,” answered Terry.
Vice-President Thomas C. Durant of the U. P. New York office was rigged in festival attire, with a black velvet coat and a necktie so gay that it fairly dazzled the eyes. General Dodge, Mr. Sidney Dillon, the Casements, Major Marshall Hurd, Superintendent Reed—they were there; and a heavy bushy-white-whiskered old gentleman in broad-cloth suit, who was Mr. John Duff of Boston, a leading director and the father of young Mr. Duff; and several others.
The crowd cheered them. The sight below was a stirring one. The second U. P. train had arrived; from it were hastening another bevy of excursionists, and the soldiers and band from Fort Douglas at Salt Lake City. The track-layers and graders and surveyors of both roads were swarming upon the standing cars—they covered the tops of the coaches, and stood upon the running-boards of 119 and Jupiter. Yankees, Irishmen, Chinamen and even Indians and Mexicans jostled one another for position.
Several people had followed Terry’s and George’s example and climbed the ladder, but they could not reach the cross-arm. Virgie had a good position, in the cab of 119. The two Heroines of the U. P. and the Heroine of the C. P. had met; they were given a front place of honor. The companies of the United States Infantry were drawn up, along the grade at the gap in the track.
“Comp’ny—rest!” the captains barked; and the blue-coat line, their hands in white gloves and every button shining, stood at ease, while the band played.
All the engines were tooting, also. There was another whistle, from the west. A second C. P. train was coming, decorated from pilot to rear coach. Its crowd thronged forward.
The sun was getting higher overhead. At a word from General Dodge, who seemed to be a sort of master of ceremonies, the infantry captains crisply ordered:
“Comp’ny—’tenshun! P’rade-rest!”