“Elder will have a pony here for you by the time you are ready. And you had better take an extra blanket with you,” advised the superintendent as he turned away. “You will be living in a tent, you know.”
Half an hour later Alex, mounted on a spirited little cow-pony, with a few necessities in a sweater, strapped to the saddle, and a blanket over his shoulder, army fashion, waved a good-by to Jack and Wilson, and was off over the prairie at a lope, following the telegraph poles.
It was a beautiful morning, and with the sun shining and the sparkling air brushing his cheeks and tingling in his nostrils, Alex quickly forgot his disappointment at being so quickly separated from Jack and Wilson, and soon was enjoying every minute of his ride. Keeping on steadily at a hand-gallop, before he realized he had covered half the distance, he came upon the wire-stringing and pole-erecting gangs. A half mile farther, a long, dark break appeared in the plain, and a muffled din of pounding began to reach him. And pushing ahead, Alex drew up on the brink of a wide, deep gully, from either side of which reached out a great wooden frame, dotted with busy men.
It was the bed of the old Antelope river, which years before had changed its course, and which the railroad finally proposed crossing with a permanent fill.
Directly below, in a group of shrubby trees on the border of the stony creek which alone remained of the river, was a village of white tents. From Alex’s feet a rough trail slanted downward toward it. Giving his pony free rein, he descended.
“Where is Mr. Norton?” he asked of a water-boy at the foot of the path.
“That’s him at the table in front of the middle tent,” the boy directed. Thanking him, Alex urged the pony forward, and leaped to the ground beside a dark-haired, energetic young man bending over a sheet of figures.
“I am the operator Mr. Finnan sent on,” Alex announced as the engineer looked up.
“Glad to meet you,” said the engineer, cordially rising and extending his hand. “You are a trifle young for this rough work, though, are you not?” he ventured, noting Alex’s youthful face. “You are not the operator who caught that K. & Z. man Sunday?”
“I helped catch him,” Alex corrected.