“We have about one in a hundred, as near as I could make out from Mr. Callowell's statement of the case. The C. G. R. people are moving heaven and earth to obstruct us in the canyon. If they can delay the work a little longer, the weather will do the rest. With the first heavy snow in the mountains, which usually comes long before this, the Utah will have to put up its tools and wait till next summer.”
Adams lighted another cigarette.
“Pardon me if I seem inquisitive,” he said, “but for the life of me I can't understand what these obstructionists can do. Of course, they can't use force.”
Winton's smile was grim. “Can't they? Wait till you get on the ground. But the first move was peaceable enough. They got an injunction from the courts restraining the new line from encroaching on their right of way.”
“Which was a thing that nobody wanted to do,” said Adams, between inhalations.
“Which was a thing the Utah had to do,” corrected Winton. “The canyon is a narrow gorge—a mere slit in parts of it. That is where they have us.”
“Oh, well,” returned Adams, “I suppose we took an appeal and asked to have the injunction set aside?”
“We did, promptly; and that is the present status of the fight. The appeal decision has not yet been handed down; and in the meantime we go on building railroad, incurring all the penalties for contempt of court with every shovelful of earth moved. Do you still think you will be in danger of ossifying?”
Adams let the question rest while he asked one of his own.
“How do you come to be mixed up in it, Jack? A week ago some one told me you were going to South America to build a railroad in the Andes. What switched you?”