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Adrian Conrad and Tressa saw him go without a worry in the world but that he would return too soon. Where only the three of them lived it was almost impossible for the two lovers to creep away by themselves. Even a sympathetic daddy becomes a burden in the springtime of youth.
Why don't you shoot? Let me " The Sergeant, with a deft twist, secured the rifle. "What's he been doing?" "Doing?" yelled the contractor. "Didn't you see that whole window didn't you " "We don't shoot men for that." Tressa came to the rescue: "He's an Indian, one of the bohunks. I didn't know he'd done anything. We were talking to him when you came.
And the trestle was just ready for the final touches! That the incident increased the difficulties of his own position did not enter Conrad's head. Thoughtful eyes moving from father to daughter, his first words betrayed his main anxiety. "Tressa can leave right away for the East." Surprise and indignation were added to the cloud of fury that twisted Torrance's face; he was speechless.
"A hundred a month and every evening in my shack," grumbled Torrance. "I know lots of better men would think it good pay." "It's every evening in your shack," gibed Conrad, "or you'd have to come and live with Tressa and me." "Oh?" questioned Tressa. "Sure!" confidently. "If you two are going to quarrel over me, I'll go back East."
Torrance accepted their banter with a pleased grin, and hurried to tell it word for word to Tressa and Adrian. Yet as darkness fell flashes of the old restraint held him silent and wondering. The solitude of the northern evening was making him a bit frightened of his success. Removing the old calabash pipe from his lips, he expectorated thoughtfully toward the grade.
Torrance blinked at it and turned to Tressa. "You can't sell, daddy. One is mine, and I'm learning to ride. But we'll give them the horses for nothing when we leave." Torrance extended his hands helplessly. "That ends it, you see. She's boss.
Torrance, flaming as usual before unexpected opposition, was about to fire him on the spot, when the noise of metal against metal drew Tressa to the door. "It's Constable Williams and a new Policeman a Sergeant. Father's here, Mr. Williams. He was sending for you. There's been a dreadful accident. A piece of the trestle fell and killed two of the men."
The film passed from before his sight. "By hickory, Tressa, I thought I was dead and Mary was taking me in hand. She can get along without me, she says, but you can't. But you needn't tell Adrian. Where's my pipe?" Murphy was capering about the room, whooping and rubbing his eyes. The injured man fixed him with stern gaze. "Murphy, what are you doing here, making a fool of yourself at this hour?
As Koppy looked about on their massed faces a disturbing memory of those strange moments with Tressa Torrance almost unnerved him. He understood these men; he knew the forces that had brought them down to railway work. And the flick of a still faintly breathing conscience made him pale.
A crash of musical instruments broke from the ugly clutter of buildings on the river bottom. "Do cut it short to-night, Tressa. Morani's got the orchestra going already. Where that Italian devil stows music in that vile body of his, and where he manages to find more of it in those other brutes, beats me."
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