The sheriff rolled out the words of the injunction with solemn and imposing voice and manner, then he folded his own copy of the writ and returned it to his pocket.
“I believe I have performed my duty, gentlemen,” he said politely, “and I wish you both a very good day!”
Then he went up to where Abner Pickett was still seated on the wall and shook the old man’s hand with hearty vigor. He had taken in the situation at a glance.
“Don’t blame you one bit, Mr. Pickett,” he said. “I’d ’a’ done the same thing in your place.”
“Thank you,” responded the old man, quietly, “I’m simply doing my duty by the dead.”
When the writs of injunction were handed to McDonough and Nicholson, they stared at each other blankly for a moment; then the contractor, who had been through similar experiences before, remarked quietly that it looked as if the game was up.
“I don’t mind a little thing like an old man with a gun,” he said to Nicholson, when the sheriff had finished reading the injunction, “but when I run up against a writ like this, I’m through so long as the writ is in force. I undertook to disobey one once up on the Susquehanna road, and it cost me fifteen hundred dollars before I got through with the job. We learn by experience.”
Nicholson was thoroughly annoyed and upset. He did not understand why the service of a paper like that, on a contractor and engineer, should have the effect of blocking a railroad; and he said so in no very polite language. McDonough smiled, and began to give orders to his men about loading up the tools again.
“I don’t propose to get into a controversy with the court,” he said; “we might as well take our things back to the river. Judging from past experiences we won’t be able to resume work here before snow flies, anyway.”
He started back toward the mouth of the gap. The sheriff, having just entered his wagon and turned his horses’ noses westward, bowed politely as the contractor passed.