"He's rather a bad lot, I guess," wrote Bucks to Callahan, "but I am satisfied of one thing-you can't run that yard with a Sunday-school superintendent. He won't make you any trouble unless he gets to drinking. If that happens, don't have any words with him." Bucks underscored three times. "Simply crawl into a cyclone cellar and wire me. Sending you eighteen loads of steel to-night, and six cars of ties. Blair reports section 10 ready for track layers and Mear's outfit moving into the Palisade Canon. Push the stuff to the front." It was getting dark, and Callahan sat in that part of the...
"He's rather a bad lot, I guess," wrote Bucks to Callahan, "but I am satisfied of one thing-you can't run that yard with a Sunday-school superintenden...
All day the heavy train of sleepers had been climbing the long rise from the river-a monotonous stretch of treeless, short-grass plains reaching from the Missouri to the mountains. And now the train stopped again, almost noiselessly. Kate, with the impatience of girlish spirits tried by a long and tedious car journey, left her Pullman window and its continuous, one-tone picture, and walking forward was glad to find the vestibule open. The porter, meditating alone, stood below, at the car step, looking ahead; Kate joined him. The stop had been made at a lonely tank, for water. No human...
All day the heavy train of sleepers had been climbing the long rise from the river-a monotonous stretch of treeless, short-grass plains reaching from ...
