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A man don't stand much show when the end of a inch 'n' a quarter cable snaps at him like a whiplash. I seen a feller on Howe Sound cut square in two with a cable-end once. A broken block's the worst, though. That generally gets the riggin' slinger, but a piece of it's liable to hit anybody. You see them big iron pulley blocks the haul-back cable works in?
Slowly but surely we are lapsing into Bullo-doodledom, with a momentary preponderance of Bull. Tempora do, I entreat you, allow me the use of my solitary dear delightful old bit of Latin mutantur; ay! and we mutate with them. The world moves, and no amount of Haul-back will stay it.
And without fully realizing the direction she took, she walked down past the camp, crossed the skid-road, stepping lightly over main line and haul-back at the donkey engineer's warning, and went along the lake shore. A path wound through the belt of brush and hardwood that fringed the lake.
Renfrew was the rigging slinger working with Charlie, a big, blond man who blushed like a schoolboy when Benton introduced him to her. Twenty minutes before he had gone trotting after the haul-back, sound and hearty, laughing at some sally of her brother's.
Gladiators they were in a contest from which they did not always emerge victorious. When Benton and his helper followed the haul-back line away to the domain of the falling gang the last time, Stella had so far unbent as to strike up conversation with the donkey engineer. That greasy individual finished stoking his fire box and replied to her first comment. "Work? You bet," said he.
The relevancy of this utterly absurd thing did not then strike me. I see it now. A certain people whom I do love with my whole heart, not in spite of their faults, but because of them: are they not my own? have been dancing the Haul-back for many generations, and now, under my own eye and quite perceptibly in the rural parts of Virginia, the dance is coming to an end.
There the thing broke down, and the events of the night before, the Englishman, the happy Northern family and the thoroughly reconstructed general, suggesting it in some queer cerebral way a still more foolish negro song, which I had forgotten for years, popped up in my brain-pan: Lit-tel gal, I give you ninepunce Ef you will dance de Haul-back; And I kin dance de Haul-back, And you kin dance de Haul back, And we kin dance de Haul-back.
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