“But what’ll they do without your help?” asked Mr. Corwith, slyly.
“Aw, I don’t amount to much,” Terry informed, for fear they might think he had bragged. “I just ride a mule that hauls a truck-load of rails for the men to lay.”
“Don’t the Indians bother?”
“Some,” admitted Terry. “They kill the men they can catch. But they can’t whip the graders or track-layers in a regular battle, though.”
“When do you track-layers expect to reach Salt Lake?”
“In 1870, anyway. It’s 650 miles yet. Congress gives us till 1876 to meet the C. P., but General Dodge and General Casement are going through in half that time.”
“You’ll have to tackle the Rocky Mountains, though.”
“Y-yes,” said Terry. “But we’ll do it.”
“The Central Pacific of California have been building only forty or fifty miles in a year, in their mountains.”
“We can beat the Central. They have timber and supplies close where they’re working, and we haul ours clear across the plains; but Casement’s Irish can lick the Chinks any day,” scoffed Terry.