Speed and Success
"What town is that?"
"Looks like a splotch of paint on a board fence, we went by so quick."
"I've lost count, Bartholomew. Where are we?"
Ned Newton listened to these comments from the visiting railroad men with delight. In reply to a question of his neighbor, the grinning financial manager of the Swift Construction Company paid:
"No, sir. That isn't a picket fence. It's the telegraph poles you see, and they are no nearer together than on another railroad. But we're going some."
"Bless my railroad stock!" shouted Mr. Damon, "I should say we were."
The electric locomotive and the private car were hurled toward the Pas Alos Range at a speed that almost frightened some of the guests.
"Three-quarters of an hour!" gasped one man as they began to see the outskirts of Hammon. "And ninety-six miles? Great Scott, Bartholomew! that's over two miles a minute!"
"That is the speed we set out to get," Mr. Richard Bartholomew said, with quite as much pride as though he had done it all himself.