ight not kill for love--no, not
that; I was going to kill for hate. And while I never had killed a man,
and in my heart of hearts did not wish to kill a man, since I had to kill
one, named Daniel, even though he was a bully, a braggart and an infernal
over-stepper it was pleasanter to think that I should kill him in hot
blood rather than in cold.

Jenks spat, and yawned.

"I can l'arn you a few things; all the boys'll help you out," he
proffered, "When you git him you'll have to git him quick; for if you
don't--adios. But we'll groom ye."

Could this really be I? Frank Beeson, not a fortnight ago still living at
jog-trot in dear Albany, New York State? It was puzzling how detached and
how strong I felt.

CHAPTER XV

THE TRAIL NARROWS

Again we broke camp. We rolled down from the plateau into that wizard
basin lying all beautiful and slumberous and spell-locked like some land
of heart's desire. We replenished our water casks from the tank cars, we
swapped for a little feed, we occasionally exchanged greetings with
contractor outfits, and with grading crews. In due time we passed end o'
track, where a bevy of sweated men were moiling like mad, clanging down
the rails upon the hasty ties and ever calling for more, more. I witnessed
little General "Jack" Casement of Ohio--a small man with full russet beard
and imperative bold blue eyes--teetering and tugging at his whiskers and
rampantly swearing while he drove the work forward. And we left end o'
track, vainly reaching out after us, until the ring of the rails and the
staccato of the rapid sledges faded upon our ears.

Now we were following the long line of bare grade, upturned reddish by the
plows and scrapers and picks and shovels; sometimes elevated, for contour,
sometimes merged with the desert itself. There the navvies digged and
delved, scarcely taking time to glance at us. And day by day we plodded
in the interminable clouds of desert dust raised by the supply wagons.

Captain Hyrum fought shy of their camps. The laborers were mainly Irish,
trans-shipped from steerage, dock, and Bowery, and imported from Western
mining centers; turbulent in their relaxations and plentifully supplied
with whiskey: companies, they, not at all to the Mormon mind. Consequently
we halted apart from them--and well so, for those were womanless camps and
the daily stint bred strong appetites.

There were places where we made half circuit out from the grade and
abandoned i