“What we begin we’ll finish,” I answered with emphasis, while Harry smiled and raised a warning hand unseen by the surveyor. “Neither hard work nor hard luck is new to us, and if it weren’t for the latter we shouldn’t be here.”
“Glad to hear it,” said the surveyor, dryly, “you look like that. Well, here’s the schedule; glance through it; then you can come back to-morrow and we’ll sign the agreement. You’ll have to rustle, though, and keep the rail-bed ready; this road’s going right through to Green Lake before the winter.”
I ran my eye down the list of stipulations respecting the work to be done at so much per rod, with allowance for extra depth scooped out through the rises per cubic ton, saw there should be a profit in it from what little I knew, and tossed the sheet to Harry, answering:
“Our time is precious, and if my partner is willing we’ll sign it now. As to what we look like, I’ll thank you to remember that has nothing to do with you.”
“I apologize; meant it as a compliment,” said our future employer, who was grimed thick with sweat and dust, and Harry answered lightly, “We are much obliged to you; my partner is quick in temper. However, you know that you can’t get teams or men for love or money now when harvest’s coming on, and so we’re going to strike you for another two cents per measure.”
“Might stretch that far,” said the other after more figuring, “but somehow we’ll take it out of you. Here, fill your distinguished names into this, and if you like to take it there’s another lot—it’s hauling in birch logs for stump piles and fencing purposes.”
We signed both papers, and on leaving the surveyor we 116 found a man in old blue overalls, whose appearance suggested the Briton, waiting for us near the construction train which had just come up with its load of rails and rail-layers.
“Did you get the grading contract?” he asked; and, when Harry nodded, he continued: “Then as a preliminary I’ll introduce myself, Ellsworthy Johnston, one-time barrister, and, as the surveyor classified me, general roustabout. Had a bush ranch in British Columbia and came to grief over it by fooling time away gold prospecting. Rode in and asked yonder eloquent autocrat for a contract, but he didn’t see it. Said, and he explained it wasn’t flattery, I looked too much of a gentleman, and in consequence if I liked I could shovel ballast at one dollar seventy-five daily. Now shoveling ballast grows monotonous, and one gets a confounded back-ache over it, so if you’re agreeable I’ll fling in a small sum and my services as junior partner.”
“We’re not too rich,” said Harry, “and we’ll talk it over.”
“Get a move on there, Sam Johnsing, before the flies eat you! Guess the rails are growing rusty while you’re resting,” called somebody in authority, and with a smile of whimsical resignation our new acquaintance hurried away.