"Time you hired a book-keeper," he remonstrated. "Trail you are travelling ends in the 'sylum."
"Book-keeper couldn't do this work."
"No?" Bender sat up. "What's the brand?"
"Figuring—grading contrac's, bridges, trestles, timbering."
"For what?"
"A railroad."
Bender snorted. "Shore! You ain't surely calculating on the C.P.'s building the branch?"
"No."
The monosyllable discouraged further questioning, but Bender stuck to his main objection. "Well, if you keep this gait you'll railroad yourself into the graveyard. It is two now; at five you'll be out with the loaders."
"Correct."