ach after they had
deposited their guests there.

On the "half-way horseback," so-called, Parker ordered the train halted,
for he wished to show Mr. Jerrard an experiment in culvert construction,
in which he took an originator's pride. The band kept on playing and the
men roared choruses.

After the young engineer had bellowed his explanation in Jerrard's ear,
and Jerrard had howled back some warm compliments, striving to make
himself heard above the uproar, the two climbed the embankment and
approached the coach. The band was quiet now.

"Speech!" cried some one, as Jerrard mounted the steps. He smiled and
shook his head.

"Speech! Speech!" The manager turned to enter his car, still smiling,
tolerant but disregarding. At a sudden command from Connick, men
reached out on both sides of the train and clutched the branches of
sturdy undergrowth that the haste of the construction work had not
permitted the crews to clear entirely away.

"Hang on, my hearties!" shouted Dan.

Parker, when he mounted the steps, had given the signal to start, but
when the engineer opened his throttle, the wheels of the little engine
whirled in a vain attempt at progress. With a grade, a heavy load, and
the determined grip of all these brawny hands to contend against, the
panting Stump Dodger was beaten. Sparks streamed and the smokestack
quivered, but the train did not start.

"Speech! Speech!" the men howled. "We won't let go till we hear a
speech."

Entreaties had no effect. First Jerrard, then Whittaker, then Parker,
and after them all the guests were compelled to come out on the car
platform and satisfy the truly American passion for a speech. And not
until the last man had responded did the woodsmen release their hold on
the trees.

"Who ever heard of a railroad being formally opened and dedicated
without speeches?" cried Connick, as he gave the word to let go. "We
know the style, an' we want everything."

The guides served a lunch at the West Branch end of the line that
afternoon, and while the railroad party was lounging in happy
restfulness awaiting the repast, a big bateau came sweeping down the
river, driven by a half dozen oarsmen. Several passengers disembarked
at the end of the carry road, and were received respectfully yet
uproariously by the woodsmen who had just arrived in a fresh train-load
from the Spinnaker end.

Connick came elbowing through the press that surrounded them.

"Mr. Shayne," he cried, "she's com