A sudden silence broke the cheering. Governor Stanford held a little sledge with a silver head. Telegraph wires ran from it to Harry’s table.
“When he hits the spike, they hear him clear at Washington,” George whispered. “And in San Francisco, too!”
“Sh!” Terry cautioned.
The governor had passed one spike to Mr. Durant, who stooped and inserted it into the hole in the polished tie, at the end of the U. P. rail. He straightened, expectantly, and grasped another sledge, with iron head. Governor Stanford gazed around.
“All ready?”
“All ready, governor. The East and the West are waiting. Mr. Durant, you may drive your spike, if you please.”
Vice-President Durant, in his gay necktie and his velvet coat, lifted his sledge; down it came, but he was nervous, for——
“Aw, he hit the rail, didn’t he? He missed!” George blurted.
“Sure did,” Terry chuckled. “But I guess it’s all right. Now Governor Stanford’s going to try.”
“The last spike will be driven by President and Governor Stanford,” announced General Dodge, at the top of his voice. “He dug the first shovelful of earth on the Central Pacific, at Sacramento; he will complete the work, on Promontory Point. Wait, everybody.”