“That’s right. You oughtn’t, daughter,” he said.
“I won’t again, then, father, if you don’t like. But I was safe enough. What’s that team for, that’s coming?”
“They’re going to haul off that pile of ties that have been taken up. Company gives ’em for the hauling. Only things it ever does give, too.”
“They ought to work faster. See. They keep dropping them on the track. If a train should come by it would get thrown off. Don’t they know that?”
“Oh, they know it all right, but they’ll be in time. They’re used to it.”
It was in this very hardihood of custom that the danger lay. A beginner at such a task would have watched constantly for the approach of a train, but this “gang” did not. For the greater ease of handling they rolled the heap of heavy ties over upon the track, as the anxious girl had observed, and two men lifting leisurely placed the weighty, worn out timber upon the wagon. The mule team before the wagon stood half-over the edge of the embankment, heads dropped, themselves enjoying the rest regardless of position.
The men laughed and talked. William Bump joined in the chatter and forgot Mary Jane. The talk grew more interesting, to the speakers, and became a torture to the listening girl, though she paid no attention to the words. She realized, merely, that they were growing more and more indolent; the pile of ties upon the rails lessened very, very slowly. It was already long past noon, she knew that. She was familiar enough with the running of trains to know, also, that the through express was the next one due. It was upon this through express that Bonny-Gay would travel. She began to feel cold with her anxiety. She must speak to those men, even if it should displease her father, who hated interference of that sort.
So she moved forward a little way and touched the arm of the foreman.
“Will you tell me the time, please?”
“Ten minutes to two, little girl. Pretty hot up here, isn’t it?” he answered, good naturedly.