The working of the powerful machine had been observed from a distance. As the little party drew nearer, they could see more plainly the heaps of mud and wet dirt left in the wake of the steam shovel. Five gigantic negroes, with shovels and hoes, leveled off the piles, working slowly and languidly over the task, their legs wet to the knees and their bodies plastered with mud.
"Saws, all of them." Charley commented briefly, as they passed the sudden, slow-working group.
"Saws?" echoed Walter questioningly. "I never heard of that race before."
"They come from the Bahama Islands," Charley replied. "They all have to ship for this country by way of the port of Nassau. So they get their title from that port, but people on this side have shortened the title down to 'Saws.' They are the finest built and laziest race in existence, I believe. There, that's Mr. Murphy, right back of the machine. He hasn't seen us yet. Whew! Just listen to him."
Mr. Murphy, a short, florid-faced man, was standing with his back to them, cursing earnestly at two negroes, who guided the moving of the sections of track and cleared away all roots and brush from the machine's path. The negroes' faces were ashen with anger, but they worked on sullenly, probably because the butt of a heavy revolver protruded from the white man's pocket.
Mr. Murphy's face became wreathed in smiles, and he ceased his cursing to greet the little party cordially.
"You've just got to cuss at them Saws occasionally," he apologized, as he rubbed the sweat from his red face. "If you don't, you just simply can't get any work out of them. Well, I'm glad to see you. I expected you early and had given you up. Well, there's the machine, and you can see for yourself what kind of work it does. I've got my contract with the county commissioners back in my tent, but I'll show it to you when we go back to dinner, so that you'll see everything is O. K. Any questions you want to ask?"
"Sure," said Charley, with a smile. "We don't want to go into anything blindfolded. First, what are your monthly expenses?"
Murphy wrinkled his brow in thought. "Let's see," he said. "We work the engineers in shifts of 8 hours each. They get $85.00 a month and board; that's $255.00. Then there's two shifts for the firemen and ground men; that makes six men at $36.00 a month—a total of $216.00. Then, I have to carry two bridge builders at the same wage, which makes $72.00 more. Then there's five graders, one cook, and one teamster, and a dynamiter to blow up the trees ahead of the machine; that's eight more, at $36.00, or $288.00. That brings my total payroll up to a little over $800 a month. Then, there's the grub bill. It runs from $250 to $300 a month. Carbide for machine lights, feed for the mules, and other extras will likely bring the total expenses for a month up to $1,200, but that's a trifle compared to what the machine is earning, and $3,000 for the bunch is like giving it away. The machine alone cost $12,000, and the tents, mules, wagons, and the motor truck would be cheap at another thousand dollars." He pulled a big watch out of his pocket and looked at the time. "Chuck's ready by now at the cook tent," he said. "Let's go and have a bite, and I'll run you into Jupiter in the truck afterward. We can talk business on the way."