The states-graphic. (Brownsville, Tenn.) 1???-1984, 1916-12-22

1uc SHOW went on the last OF March
that spring. and the gorges could not
carry away the water. The sun turn
cd summer hot. u burned the higher
ridges dry whila the valleys still lay
hidden in food. IL was August tenn
perature the third Sunday in April.
when Stephen O'Mara stood and
watched beneath the glare Of kero-
sene torches his bridge at Thirty Mile
go into position between dark and
dawn.
There WIS no man among them that
day who dld not show upon his face
the strain they had been under They
were few, they were unshaven aud
dirty and lean as hungry hounds. but
they were the men whom Steve had
once hidden Hsrdwick Elliott 10
watch. once they had begun to scent
combat Fat Joe was no longer plump.
Steve was worn down TO actual thin
ness. And 1t would have taken q care
full eye to have selected the chief from
their ranks that Sunday.
The huge timbers had dropped into
place like bits Of jig sawed puzzle. At
3 In the afternoon, too tired both In
body and soul for elation, Steve watch
ed them drive home the last spike and
heard their hoarse effort at cheer.
BE had turned TO start toward his
shack, not like a man who knows that
the end OF a well nigh hopeless task is
In sight, but like a beaten man. The
1st Of May meant more TO Steve than
any clause of the East Coast compa-
ny's contract could convey. He had
not had even one letter since he put
her upon her train. Wickersham's ap-
pearance on horseback at the head Of
the valley, picking his way around the
flooded meadow, halted him in his
heavy footed climb. whistle shrill-
ed far to the south of them. down the
completed track. And then. after ten
years and more, they were face to face
again.
THAT bridge will have TO 80 DOWN.
Wlckersham was breathing hard, for
all that he had been riding. Il am
going through with my drive to-
day"
He had dismounted. Steve smiled at
him.
You're whole week previous,
Wickersham,' he said YEARLY. "rll
be signaling for your first load of logs
in less than sixty hours"
Archibald Wickersham wished that
he could have believed it impossible,
for 1t would have given him courage
and lent conviction to his stand. But
he knew just how fast those few re.
naming miles of open roadbed would
be spanned. His eyes were furtive.
There was no body to his voice.
My men are on the banks he
clustered. MY first head of logs has
started down. It's too late to argue
now-too late for your promises that
none but fools ever believed" The
sure irrevocabillty of what he was say
ing blanched his cheeks. Il canuot
wait for a miracle TO be performed.
My timber must come out on this
-e1esl ~ s,..as~4--.,isrAs.Aesss.
Stephen O'Afara had whipped him
once, but men had interfered This
day chance or destiny or fate-what.
ever you may choose to call it--sayed
him from destruction. The lean and
weary man who had not been out Of
his clothes for three days and three
nights, save for a plunge in the icy
river, had taken his first step forward
when the whistle screamed nearer
warning.
She had told him that she would
come to see the finish OF his race, but
he had long since stopped believing
that. And now when she stood and
waved her hand at him from the brass
rallied observation platform Of ALI
sons private car which a switch en-
CINE, out Of patience with the grade,
was shunting across the lower end Of
the clearing he could only stand and
stare duly, no faith in his eyes;
The loud plaid of her fathers garb
flashed behind her in the doorway.