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Updated: June 7, 2025
"I remember what it meant to be a railroad lineman in the West years ago. The blizzards out there are a great deal more severe than those we have here, Mr. Bansemer. Just think of the poor fellows who are repairing the lines to-night. Doesn't it seem heartless?" "It does, indeed. And yet, I daresay you've been scolding them bitterly all evening.
Neale could not place him, and he did not try hard for recognition, for that surely would recall his former relations to the railroad. "I don't remember you," replied Neale. "I'll bet Larry does," said the stranger, with a grin at the cowboy. "Shore. Your name's Campbell an' you was a lineman for Baxter," returned Larry.
"What do you want, Bill?" demanded McCloud, turning to the lineman. "Is this man all right?" asked Dancing, jerking his thumb toward the easy chair. "I can't say; you'll have to ask him." "I'll save you that trouble, Bill, by saying that if it's for the good of the division I am all right.
With all his hard work it seemed impossible for him to develop into anything but a mediocre lineman. The line coaches, with much regret, had about given up all hope. One afternoon, two weeks before the Yale game, one of the line coaches was standing on the side lines talking with Pooch Donovan about Ver Wiebe. Pooch said little, but kept a close watch on Ver Wiebe for the next two or three days.
When King fastened one end round his body under his arms the question arose among the engineers, just as it had arisen for Neale, whether or not it was needful to let the lineman down before the surveyor. Henney, who superintended this sort of work, decided it was not necessary. "I reckon I'll go ahaid," said King. Like all Texans of his type, Larry King was slow, easy, cool, careless.
"Say, this country air gives some appetite," he mumbled, as he sank his teeth into his fifth bread-and-meat sandwich. "I could eat a horse, an' drown his head off in coffee afterward." Saxon's mind had reverted to all the young lineman had told her, and she completed a sort of general resume of the information. "My!" she exclaimed, "but we've learned a lot!"
Faster, Bill, faster," he telegraphed urgently. "You will get it faster," returned the distant lineman far out in the mountains under the stars, as he talked calmly with the despatcher, "if you will go slower." Bucks strangled his impatience. Dancing resumed, and the despatcher again translated for Scott. "They cooked the jack-rabbit for supper " Scott flung his book violently across the room.
"And what are you doing here?" "My name is Bucks and I am the new night operator." "You look new. And you act all-fired new. My name is Bill Dancing and I am the telegraph lineman." "Why, you are the man I am looking for." "So I thought, when you pushed me out of here with the rest of your visitors." "Why didn't you speak up, Bill?" demanded Bucks calmly.
The crowd took up the cry, but the lineman, swinging right and left with terrific strength and swiftness, opened a way ahead of him while Bucks kept close by till Dancing had cut through to the vigilantes. Then, turning with them as they raised their own cry of triumph, Dancing helped to drive the discomfited rioters back. It was only for a moment that the vigilantes held their advantage.
Look at him now worth two hundred an' fifty thousan' cold, an' I bet he's got credit for a million, an' there's no tellin' what the rest of his family owns." "And he made all that out of your folks' land?" Saxon demanded. The young man nodded his head with evident reluctance. "Then why didn't your folks do it?" she pursued. The lineman shrugged his shoulders. "Search me," he said.
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