In his deep distress and anxiety the words escaped from Dannie’s lips involuntarily. His grandfather turned on him in an instant.
“You! You! An’ where did you see ’em, I’d like to know?”
“Why—why, I saw a company of engineers go up the road the morning we went down to look at the stakes.”
“Humph! So did I. D. V. & E. engineers. Begun where they left off the night before. That’s as much as you know about it. Look here, Gabriel! I don’t believe a word of your yarn. And if any engineer went over that route in the night an’ says he didn’t see the stakes set in the afternoon, he lies!”
“Oh, Gran’pap! No—no; he wouldn’t lie! He couldn’t lie! He didn’t lie! I know he didn’t lie!”
The charge of falsehood, unjust as it was, against his friend, the engineer, to whom he had been so mysteriously attracted, was more than Dannie could bear. But the old man galloped on roughshod.
“I say he does lie! Or else he sent a man on ahead to pull ’em all out before he set his own. Like as not he’s the biggest rascal the railroad company could hire!”
“Oh, Gran’pap! Oh, no, no!”
Every bitter, biting word flung from his grandfather’s lips cut Dannie to the heart. It was almost as though his own father was being insulted and assailed. It drew from him denial and protest as strong almost as the old man’s denunciation.
“You don’t know ’im!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t see ’im! He’s a gentleman. He wouldn’t do a mean thing to save ’is life! Why, Gran’pap, he’s the one who was big hearted enough to run around your graveyard.”