"Slowly," said the other; "can't catch up on schedule contract time. We've had rain and heavy soil ever since we began. The boys have been giving me some trouble, too."
"You won't mind my having a few words with them?"
"Why, no," said Farren. "Guess they need it; but I'm most afraid you'll be wasting time. The Scandinavians, who're quiet enough and might agree with you, can't understand, and it's quite likely that the crowd you want to get at won't listen. Anyway, you can try it after they've dubbed the load off the gravel train; she's coming now."
He pointed toward a smear of smoke that trailed away across the prairie. It grew rapidly blacker and nearer, and presently a grimy locomotive with a long string of clattering cars behind it came down the uneven track. It had hardly stopped when the sides of the low cars dropped, and a plow moved forward from one to another, hurling off masses of gravel that fell with a roar. Then the train, backing out, came to a standstill again, and a swarm of men became busy about the line. Dusk was falling, but the blaze of the great electric light on the locomotive streamed along the track. While Hardie stood watching, half a dozen men dropped their tools and walked up to his companion.
"We're through with our lot," announced one. "We're going to the Butte and we'll trouble you for a sub of two dollars a man."
"You won't get it," said Farren shortly. "I want the ties laid on the next load."
"Then you can send somebody else to fix them. We're doing more than we booked for."
"You're getting paid for it."
"Shucks!" said the other contemptuously. "What we want is an evening at the Butte; and we're going to have it! Hand over the two dollars."
"No, sir," said Farren. "I've given in once or twice and I've got no work out of you for most two days afterward. You can quit tie-laying, if you insist; but you'll get no money until pay-day."