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But he made one more try. Possibly a picture or newspaper had been tacked on the wall and had escaped his fingers when he had first gone round the room. “You bet I don’t train along with him. I’m so sick of cows that I never want to see a long horn again. I’d like to be an engineer. I sneaked up once or twice to the dam. It must be fun to help built it. But I reckon it’s not for me.” The boys were silent, each busy with his own thoughts. Then the newcomer exclaimed, “But here’s the place we want to do some fishing. Grab a line and bait up!” A moment later the place was in an uproar. Fired by bad whiskey and the knowledge that numbers were with them, the bunch of Mexicans had jumped for the solitary figure..
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He was off, leaping up the steep road. Christina looked at the money and then at the disappearing boy and said, “How queer he was!” Here let us sport, “I reckon so, ’cause they had too good a start for me to catch up with ’em. Good night to ye,” he finished and galloped off to put his tired horse away and get some much-needed rest for himself. One part of the activity drew him especially. This was the cableway system. Between the towers set up on the high ground on each side of the river, the strands of wire rope were suspended. Along them ran great pulleys from which the buckets hung. The buckets would flash across Bob’s vision endlessly, carrying loads of mixed concrete, of sand, of anything that was needed..
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