, and a
parson at that, shovelin' stone. But they won't think any the less of
you for it, mind you," he reassured his companion.

Maxwell knew most of the men, and greeted them by name, and when he
rolled up his sleeves and began work, they quickly saw that he was "no
slouch," and that he did not "soldier," or shirk, as many of them
did--though sometimes they were inclined to rest on their shovels and
chaff him good-naturedly, and ask him if he had his Union card with
him.

Shoveling stone is no picnic, as Danny and his fellows would have put
it. It is not only the hard, obstructed thrust, thrust of the shovel
into the heap of broken stone, and the constant lift and swing of each
shovelful into the wagon; it is the slow monotony of repetition of
unvarying motion that becomes most irksome to the tyro, and wears down
the nervous system of the old hand till his whole being is leveled to
the insensibility of a soulless machine.

But, though new to the process itself, Maxwell was not ignorant of its
effects; and soon he found himself distracting his attention from the
strain of the muscular tension by fitting the action to the rhythm of
some old sailor's chanteys he had learned at college. The effect
amused the men; and then as some of them caught the beat, and others
joined in, soon the whole gang was ringing the changes on the simple
airs, and found it a rousing and cheerful diversion from the monotony
of labor.

If a pause came, soon one of them would call out: "Come on, Parson;
strike up the hymn."

One by one the wagons were loaded, and driven to the road. After they
had filled the last wagon, Danny put on his coat, and he and Maxwell
mounted and drove out of the yard.

"Where are we going with this?" Maxwell inquired.

"Down on the state road, first turn to the left."

"Why, that must be near Willow Bluff, Mr. Bascom's place, isn't it?"

"Right opposite. Bascom, he come out yesterday, and said he wouldn't
stand for that steam roller snortin' back and forth in front of his
house. But Jim Ferris told him he had his orders from Williamson, and
he wasn't goin' to be held up by nobody until Williamson told him to
stop. Jim isn't any kind of fool."

When they arrived in front of Willow Bluff, they stopped, dismounted,
and dumped the crushed stone, and then returned to the stone yard. At
noon they camped out on the curb in front of Willow Bluff. After
Maxwell had done full justice to the contents of his dinner pa