The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1924-05-09
CHAPT Err |

Chuck at the Y.D. tonight, and a
he'd under the shingles" shouted
Transley, waving to the procession to
be Off.
Under, foreman and head teamster,
straightened up from the half load
of new hay In which he had been
awaiting the final word. frightened the
lines. made a clucking sound in bis
throat, and the horses pressed their
shoulders into the collars. Linder
glanced back to see each wagon or
implement take up the slack with
Jerk like the cars of freight train;
the cushioned rumble of wagon wheels
on the soft earth, and the noisy chat
ter of the steel teeth Of the hay
rakes came up from the rear. Trans
ley's outfit" was under way.
TransIey was a contractor; mas
ter of men and Of circumstances Six
weeks before, the suspension OF
grading order had left him high and
dry. with a dozen men and as many
teams on his hands and hired for the
season. Transley galloped all that
night into the foothills; when he re-
turned next evening he had a con-
tract with the YD. TO cut all the hay
from the ranch buildings to the Forks.
Transley traded his dump scrapers
for moving machines, and three days
later his outfit was at work In the
upper reaches of the Y.D.
The contract had been decidedly
profitable. Not an hour of broken
weather had interrupted the opera
tions, and today, with two thousand
tons of hay in stack, Transley was
moving down to the headquarters of
the Y.D. The trail lay along broad
valley, warded on either side by
ranges of foothills; hills which III any
other country would have been digni-
fed by the name of mountains. From
their SUBMITS the gray-green up-tilted
limestone protruded, whipped clean of
soil by the chinooks of centuries.
Here and there on their northern
slopes hung a beard of scrub timber;
sharp gulleys cut into their fast
nesses to bring down the turbulent
waters Oh IllelT SuONS.
Some miles to the left Of the trail
lay the bed of the YD., fringed with
poplar and cottonwood and occasional
dark green splashes of spruce. Be
yond the bed of the YD., beyond the
foothills that looked down upon it,
hung the mountains themselves, their
giant crests pitched like mighty tents
browsing placidly between earth and
heaven. Now their four o'clock veil
of blue-purple mist lay filmed about
their shoulders, but later they would
stand out in bold silhouette cutting
the silences of the eternal, broken
only by the muffied noises of Trans
Iey's outfit trailing down to the Y.D.
Under. foreman and head teamster,
cushioned his shoulders against his
half load Of hay and contemplated the
scene with amicable satisfaction. The
hay fields OF the foothills had been a
pleasant change from the railway
grades OF the plains below Men and
horses had fattened and grown con-
tent, and the foreman had reason TO
know that Transley's bank account
had profited by the sudden shift in
his operations. Under felt in his
pocket for pipe and matches; then.
with frown, withdrew his fingers.
He himself had laid down the law that
there must be no smoking In the hay
Fields. A carelessly dropped match
might In an hour nullify all their
labor.
Linder's frown had scarce vanished
when hoof-beats pounded by the side
of his wagon, and rider, throwing
himself lightly from his horse, dropped
beside him in the hay.
Thought I'd ride with you a SMELL
Lin. That Pete-horse acts like he was
goin' sore on the Off front foot. Chuck
at the Y.D, tonight?"
That's what TransIey says George
and he knows"
"Ever ct at the Y.D.?"
Nope"
Know old YD.?"
'Only to know his name is good on
a check, and they say he still throws
a good rope"
George wriggled TO a more comfort
able position in the hay. He had a
feeling that he was approaching a
delicate subject with consummate
skill. After a considerable silence he
continued:
"They say that's quite girl old
Y.D.s got" -
"Oh." said Under, slowly. The
occasion Of the soreness in that Pete