[For the first few minutes they could do nothing but stare] open-mouthed. [It all seemed like magic.] When they had been in this same valley twenty-four hours earlier, there had been only the material piles and a small squad of engineers and their helpers killing time. But now——
[For the first few minutes they could do nothing but stare. It all seemed like magic]
Larry was the first to speak after they had swept the shut-in valley with the field-glass, taking in all the details of the furious activities.
“I told you they wouldn’t quit,” he remarked quietly. “With that rich gold camp at the head of the Tourmaline yelling for a railroad, they have too much at stake. They are still meaning to race us for Little Ophir.”
“Lawzee—but I’m mighty glad we took another Donovan chance!” said Dickie Maxwell, whispering as if he were afraid that the toiling army a full half-mile distant might overhear him. “What do we do next?”
Larry was already unlimbering the field telephone set and coupling it to the wires. For several minutes they got no reply to their signals; but just as a great fear that their line might be grounded somewhere, in spite of all the care they had taken, was beginning to grip them, a faint voice came through the receiver. What it said was: “All right—Smith talking—shoot.”
Larry tried to pass the ear-piece to his companion—just for the honor of it; but Dick said, “No; this is your piece of pie. Eat it yourself.”
Larry put his lips to the mouthpiece of the transmitter.
“This is Donovan—can you hear me?—all right. We’re on a ridge just above the O. C. camp and overlooking it.... Yes, we’re hid in the woods and perfectly safe; but listen: the O. C. people have brought in a force twice as big as ours and they are laying track to beat the band down the gulch that leads to our canyon. Get that?”