t stiffening yet."

"Oh, yes," said Gordon. "It's quite what one would expect. We do
things differently. We heave our rails down and fill up the
country with miners and farmers while you'd be worrying over your
parliamentary bills. We strengthen our track as we go along, and we'll
have iron bridges over every river just as soon as they're wanted."

Wisbech smiled. It seemed to him that these men would probably get
exactly what they set their minds upon in spite of every obstacle.

"Why don't they stop the train while they get the beam into place?" he
inquired.

"Nothing short of a big landslip is allowed to hold that fast freight
up," Gordon replied. "It's up to every divisional superintendent
between here and Winnipeg to rush her along as fast as possible. Half
the cars are billed through to the Empress liner that goes out
to-morrow."

In the meanwhile the men and oxen had conveyed the big log up the
slope, and, while Nasmyth drove the beasts back along the skidded
track, it swung out over the chasm at the end of a rope. Men leaning
out from fragile stages clutched at and guided it, and when one of
them shouted, Nasmyth cast the chain to which the rope was fastened
loose from his oxen. Then little lithe figures crawled out along the
beams of the trestle, and there was a ringing of hammers. Gordon, who
gazed up the track, swung his arm up in warning.

"You've got to hump yourselves, boys," he admonished.

The faint hoot of a whistle came ringing across the pines, and a
little puff of white smoke broke out far up the track from among their
sombre masses. It grew rapidly larger, and the clang of the hammers
quickened, while Wisbech watched the white trail that swept along the
steep hillside until there was a sudden shouting. Then he turned and
saw his nephew running across the bridge.

"Somebody has forgotten a bolt or a big spike," said Gordon.

Wisbech felt inclined to hold his breath as he watched Nasmyth climb
down the face of the trestle, but in another minute or two he was
clambering up again with several other men behind him. There was
another hoot of the whistle, and, as Wisbech glanced up the track, a
great locomotive broke out from among the pines. It was veiled in
whirling dust and flying fragments of ballast, and smoke that was grey
instead of white, for the track led down-grade, and the engineer had
throttled the steam. The engine was a huge one, built for mountain
hauling, and the freight cars tha