eight, and the coach transplanted from the P. K. & R. narrow-gage.

Parker announced that on the opening day no fares would be collected,
that the train would make hourly trips, and that all might ride who
could get aboard.

Not to be outdone in generosity, the crew through big Dan Connick,
declaring that they proposed to make all the preparations for the
celebration free of charge--that is, they would accept no wages for
their work.

They built benches on the platform cars and fitted up the box cars in
similar fashion. They trimmed the Stump Dodger with spruce fronds till
the locomotive looked like a moving wood-lot. Every flag in Sunkhaze was
borrowed for the decoration of the coach, and then, in a final burst of
enthusiasm, the men subscribed a sum sufficient to hire the best brass
band in that part of the state.

"It took us some little time to wake up enough to know how much we
needed a railroad acrost here," said Dan, "but now that we're awake
we propose to let folks know it. Them whose hearin' is sensitive had
better take to the tall timber that day."

Parker met his party at Sunkhaze station on the morning of the great
occasion. They came in the P. K. & R. president's private car, that was
run upon a siding to remain during the week the railroad men entertained
their friends at their new Kennemagon Lake camp.

"I expect," said Parker, as the little steamer puffed across sunlit
Spinnaker toward Poquette, "that the men have arranged a rather rugged
celebration for to-day; but I know them well, gentlemen, and I want to
assure you that all they do is meant in the best spirit."

As the steamer approached the wharf, tooting its whistle, there was an
explosion ashore that made the little craft appear to hop out of the
water. All the anvils of the construction crew had been stuffed with
powder, and all were fired simultaneously with a battery current!

With a yell the shore crowd rushed to the side of the steamer. Dan was
leading, his broad face glowing with good humor. Groups of cheering men
clutched the squirming, protesting railroad owners and their friends,
and bore them on sturdy shoulders to the waiting train. The band from
its station on a platform car boomed "Hail to the Chief," the engine
whistle screaming an obligato.

Then the men swarmed upon the cars, crowding every corner, occupying
every foothold--but with the thoughtful deference of the woods not
venturing to encroach upon the privacy of the co