Johnston smiled a little, but his tone was not the usual one as he answered: “I think I shall. You’ll say it sounds like old woman’s talk, but I fancy I’ll never recross those Rockies. Anyway, it won’t worry the rest of humanity very much if I don’t, and I dare say we’ll get some small excitement track-grading in the meantime. This country doesn’t lay itself out to favor railroad building, especially in winter.”
CHAPTER XIII
ADVOCATES OF TEMPERANCE
It was a month later, and we had settled down to our new task, when Lee, who had managed to make himself generally useful, took a wholly unexpected step. Our camp stood beside the partly completed track, which after climbing through the passes wound along the edge of a precipice into a bowl-shaped hollow among the mountains. High above it on the one hand the hillsides sloped up toward the snow, which now crept lower to meet them every day. It was strewn with massy boulders and bare outcrops of rock, while the pines which managed to find a foothold here and there glittered with frost crystals every morning. Below, a wide blue lake filled half the hollow, and shingled roofs peeped out among the cedars that spread their rigid branches over its placid waters, while the roar of a frothing torrent rose hoarsely from the forest behind. Beyond this, and walled off by stupendous mountains from the outer world, lay an auriferous region, and a wooden town whose inhabitants had long struggled for an existence, hampered by the cost of bringing in stores and machinery by pack-horse train.
Railroad-building in such a land is an arduous task, needing a bold conception and a reckless execution, while no line is ever driven that is not partly paid for with the adventurous legion’s blood. Our share, however, was one of the safest, for it consisted in hewing logs out of the forest for framing the spidery trestles and snow-sheds, hauling sawn lumber into position, and doing general teamster’s 139 work. Risks there were of course—the rush of a charging boulder, or a sudden descent of shale, while occasionally a partly grubbed out trunk came thundering down before it was expected to. Comparatively few trained mechanics could be found among all the men about us, and, as usual, the hardest part of the struggle devolved upon the reckless free-lances—sailor-men deserters, unfortunate prospectors, forest ranchers whose possessions were mortgaged to the hilt, and others of the kind, who are always to the front when at the risk of life and limb a new way for civilization is hewn through the forests of the Pacific Slope.
One morning, when I rested my team a few moments, talking to Harry and the surveyor after hauling a heavy log, Johnston came up chuckling, with a strip of cedar bark on which a notice was written.
“We have an ardent reformer among our ranks, and, everything considered, I admire his pluck,” he said. “You’ll notice you’re all invited if you listen to this—‘A temperance meeting will be held outside the Magnolia saloon to-night, when Fanny Marvin and Adam Lee will turn the flash-light upon the evils of drink and gamblin’. Every sensible man is requested to step along.’”
“I thought there was something brewing,” said Harry. “Lee has lately foregathered with certain sober-faced individuals from Ontario, and they’ve been plotting mysteriously. Well, I suppose there will be trouble over it; but who is this Marvin?”