Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1908-06-11
CHAPTER XVIII.
he Battle on the Desert.

Out In the sage-cOvered wilds 4
horde of pigmies charged the ice
bound earth, with pick and powder
Fighting desperately against endless
malignant obstacles, George Gregory
forged on toward Salt Lake. the goal
of his dreams.
Side by side, mile after mile, the
rival companies ran their grades, the
Central Pacific working steadily east,
the Union Pacific rushing west from
their main front, and pushing east
with the grade they had begun at
Humboldt Wells. They hoped to out
run their rivals and meet their own
Iron far west of Salt Lake.
Thus the days sped. Gregory's life
became profane prayer for iron. For
ten days his men worked but four
hours day. The rest of the time
they slept, visited or tramped. A few
quarreled, some gambled on the sly
Yet these men averaged well, and it
was not for them Gregory held his
sleepless vigilance, but for the tide Of
riff-raff setting westward from the on
coming Union Pacific, from the remote
mines and camps, and taking toll Of
mischief as it passed.
One night, worn with fruitless court
ship of sleep, Gregory rose and went
out into the desert cold, striding
noiselessly down the sleeping tented
town. He turned the other way,
poccod Tho hoor6iou twain tho cor,
missary, the shops. and on by the
Chinese camps. Returning. slight
noise caught his ear as he neared the
wheeled bakery. He stopped, listened,
and sent his lantern ray against the
door. It was ajar
Presently man came out with 4
loaf of bread and climbed down the
steps into Gregory's light. He was 4
recent conner, thick, sturdy, with
beetling brows and fierce, resentful
eyes.
What are you doing here?" thun.
sdered Gregory.
81 walked too far to get back for
supper, and went for some Bread" the
How'd you open the door? Wasn't
1t locked?"
Eyes, sir; but got the key T."
He got no farther. Gregory dropped
his lantern and flew at him. Hot an.
ger and the power Of authority rein
forced Gregory's more than usual
strength. He rained blows and invec-
tive on the offender; listed him and
booted him; kicked him under the
wagon finally, with last irate charge.
Lie there, you dog! till daylight, if
you want to; but be out Of this camp
before see you again, you son of
iniquity! Blast your eyes! I'll see If
stealing can't be stopped here!"
Gregory hurried away, but not fast
enough to escape the mans defiant re-
toinder: Taking loaf of bread in
place of supper's no stealing. I'll be
even with you for this, you damned
slave-driver!"
The voice was weak, but Gregory
felt the venom, and it's threat.
"There's a man under the bakery
that I've ordered out of camp" he said
to the Waterman, as the two met. "See
that he goes; but give, him this-on
the quiet, you understand" The watch
man took the five dollars. Hes only
worked two days; there won't be
much coming to him, poor devil" the
superintendent said compassionately.
1t was this side of Gregory's varied
character that won for him the ALE
glance and service of the men he
drove hard, though less hard than he
drove himself. =.
Gov. Stanford established headquar-
tiers at Salt Lake City, and Superin-
tendent Croker fitted up and down
the line to the Front whenever the
Sacramento Office did not claim him.
The movements of the directors
seemed fatally slow to Gregory, the
man of steel, who must ask no ques-
lions but execute their offlce-made
plans. He chafed more than ever over
delay in forwarding materials, for he
was desperately near the end of all
the rails on the coast.
why don't you get iron across the
Isthmus?" he asked of Mr.. Croker
when the latter had told Of the de-
layed ships carrying iron, locomotives
and other supplies.
What" the superintendent cried in
dismay. Pack iron across the 18TH
mus? Preposterous! The directors
would never consent. Hopkins he'd
60 crazy! We"
Good heavens, Mr.. Croker! Don't
let him-let them hold us up now!"
But, Gregory, we're planting money
under every foot of track, finished and
unfinished. Think of the things that
need to be done, rebuilt, mended. And
last week we killed 20 Cinnamon.
Well have"
Dead Cinnamon needn't bother us;
it's live ones we want" Il
"Yes, but the dead ones make it hard
for us to get more live ones. And they
fear the cold, too. They say, Too
muchee snow! Too muchee kill And
you're always bowling for more