“What’s their rush, do you reckon?”
“You’ll see,” laughed Terry.
Scarcely had the track squads left, bearing their spoils, when the crowd swarmed into the spot, and jostled and clawed and dug.
“Souvenirs! They’re after souvenirs!” George rapped. “Want one? Want a piece of tie, or something?”
“Shucks!” scoffed Terry. “We might as well go down, though. Everything’s over. But I guess after a fellow’s lived at the front for a couple of years, and helped build the road, like you and I have, he doesn’t need any ‘souvenir’ to remember it by!”
“Right you are, boy,” George agreed. “I’d rather have something to eat. Best thing we can do is to catch a ride back. It’s a quarter to one.”
Down they plumped, to the ground, and were breaking for the U. P. trains, when they ran almost slap into young Mr. Duff.
“By gracious! Hello. Where’ve you boys been? I wondered——”
“Up on the telegraph pole, most the time,” explained Terry, as they all shook hands heartily. “Where’ve you been? Funny we didn’t see you.”
“Oh, I’ve been running ’round, with the crowd. I came out from Boston with my dad. You both have grown so, I didn’t recognize you, on top that pole. But hurrah, anyway,” and young Mr. Duff laughed boyishly. “Well, here we all are, at the finish. So you stuck it out, did you?”