"Perhaps the end of everything," agreed the underforeman solemnly.
"That's why I'm not hankering for it," said Werner under his breath. "And the fellow who carries it through is going to wear a bigger jewel in his crown, so to speak?" he asked aloud.
"Then why not cop it yourself, old man? My crown's getting a bit top-heavy already. You got a finer sense of balance, and your neck's stronger. Them bolts I drew on the trestle pretty near gave me a headache--not to say as near as you came to it when the boss got swinging," he added with a leer. "Hugo Werner never was ambitious."
Koppy raised himself haughtily. "I order," he rapped.
"Too darn much for my skin," grumbled Werner. "It's a bad habit to get into--for the other fellow."
But he set about obeying, for therein lay the choice of two evils. Five experienced "rock-hogs" were put in his care, men with so little reverence for dynamite that they chewed the sticks, from bravado at first, later as a horrible habit.
"They're all away," Werner assured them, "and the girl. Puff!--and it's all over."
He ran up the slope to the grade and danced in the open door of the boss's shack; and, grinning at the convincing devil of it, they set about their task. Armed with fuse and dynamite they crept along underneath the bank toward the trestle. Werner, as an excuse to linger, carried the fuse; he almost envied the bohunk in the rear with the dynamite. With quick hard blows the "rock-hogs" attacked one of the main central piers with hammer and chisel. They wanted to get it over; the job was too much exposed to suit them.
Almost at the first blow a rock tumbled from the top of the trestle at their backs, and immediately a shower of gravel beat on and about them. Promptly they ran, Werner leading all the way.
From within his shack Koppy witnessed the foiling of his plans. Mouthing deep maledictions, he saw the Indian dance a few steps on the trestle, shouting derision at his fleeing followers. And presently the red-skin clambered down through the network of the trestle and picked up fuse, dynamite and tools, to carry them stolidly up the slope past Conrad's shack to the grade. Then in full view of the camp he seated himself on the grade, rifle across his knee, and began to whittle.