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"Old Doc Leeharvis was handling the hypnosis herself. She hit what she thought might be a mind-block when she tried to get you to remember what happened. We know now it wasn't a mind-block. But she wouldn't monkey with you any farther, and told me to get in an expert. So I called the Psychology Service's headquarters on Orado." Trigger looked startled, then laughed. "The eggheads?
He grew sore on the whole matter of money-getting. "Yes, I have money. But I don't go after it. It comes to me, because I seek and render service for the service's sake. It will come to anybody else the same way; and why should it come any other way?" He not only had a low regard for the motives of most seekers of wealth; he went further, and fell into much disbelief of poor men's needs.
To love, for a time of sore need, for service's sake, for the sake of the multitudes whose leaders they were to be, for the saving of the church plan, and beyond of the kingdom plan, the Jesus within looked out for a few moments into their faces. It was the same plan used later in getting another leader.
But he hopes, for long service's sake, to be taken into the employ of the railway; <i>he</i> at least is no cherisher of quaintness and has no romantic perversity. I found the railway coming on, however, in a manner very shocking to mine.
It seemed that a very rich Mexican with a twenty-wagon train and 100 yoke of oxen had stopped near the little ranch of Service and Miller to cook their meals. He had unyoked his cattle and driven them to the creek for water and instead of returning by the route he had gone, threw down the fence and was driving his oxen through Service's ten-acre corn patch.
A promoter will take a piece of this beautifully colored rock and explain to you about the percentage of gold or copper it contains, the cost of extracting it and the enormous profits to be made; a friend will show you a marvelous specimen and explain that he or she owns a half interest in the claim which is sure to turn out at least half a million..... Then you will perhaps think of Robert Service's "Spell of the Yukon" and you will understand the enthusiasm and spirit of optimism.
As he turned, rolling his match to death in his fingers, the sun struck mellowly upon something on his breast, a small, dark copper shield which bore strange heraldry. At the sight Courtrey's eyes sought Service's and held them for a swift, questioning moment. Strangers in Lost Valley were contraband.
Wingfield's experience in Nevada and the gold mines brings to my mind a poem from Robert W. Service's "Spell of the Yukon," of which I am very fond: "This is the law of the Yukon, and ever she makes it plain; Send not your foolish and feeble; send me your strong and your sane Strong for the red rage of battle; sane, for I harry them sore; Send me men grit for the combat; men who are grit to the core...."
He likes it mightily, both for the King's and service's sake, and the Duke of York's, and will propound it to the Duke of York: and I confess, if there be one, I would be glad to be in. 22nd.
An' many a good man will go to his death before thet damn railroad is done." Neale searched for Service's notes and letters and valuables which could be turned over to the engineering staff.
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