“It sartinly was, young man.  It cost a mint of money, to say nuthin’ of the lives sacrificed.  Thar was some mighty bad accidents on this bit of road, though thar was some funny ones, too.  I often have a good laugh to meself whenever I think of one of the stories that was told.”

“What was it?” Reynolds asked.  He was interested in everything now.

“Wall, ye see, the company that built this road was considered mighty mean, an’ ground the men down to the last cent.  One day a big blast went off before its time, an’ a feller was blown high into the air.  Everybody thought fer sure that thar wouldn’t be a speck of him left.  But strange to say, in about fifteen minutes he came down pat on his feet, an’ but fer a few bruises an’ a bad shakin’ up he was as chipper as ye please.  He got another shock, though, at the end of the week which nearly put him out of bizness.”

The old man paused, and a smile overspread his face as he gazed thoughtfully out of the window.

“Yes,” he continued, “it sartinly was some shock, an’ no mistake.  When he went to the office to be paid fer his week’s work, he found that the company had docked him two-bits fer the fifteen minutes he was absent on that air-trip when the blast went off.  Now, what d’ye think of that?”

“Close shaving, I should say,” was the reply.  “It’s a good yarn, though, and worth remembering.  But, my, isn’t that a wonderful sight!” And Reynolds motioned to the great mountains away in the distance.  “We seem to be surrounded by them.”

“So we are, young man.  Ye can’t escape ’em in the north any more’n ye kin git clear of the sky-scrapers in New York.  But them over thar are the work of the Almighty, an’ a grand job He made of ’em.  This hull land reminds me of a big cathedral; the woods an’ valleys are the aisles, an’ the mountains are the spires pointin’ man to heaven.  I tell ye, it’s a great place out alone on the hills to worship.  Yer not cramped thar, an’ it doesn’t matter what kind of clothes ye have on.  It’s wonderful the sights ye see an’ the things ye hear.  Talk about music!  Why, ye have the finest in the world when nature’s big organ gits to work, ’specially at night.  I’ve shivered from head to toe when the wind was rippin’ an’ roarin’ through the woods, down the valleys, an’ along the mountain passes.  That’s the music fer me!”

“You seem to love this country,” Reynolds remarked, as he noted the intense admiration upon his companion’s face.

“I sartinly do, young man.  It grips me jist as soon as I cross this range.  Thar’s nuthin’ like it to my way of thinkin’, though it takes ye years to find it out.  Yet, it doesn’t altogether satisfy the soul, although it helps.  Thar’s something within a man that needs more’n the mountains an’ the wonderful things around him.  But, thar, I must see what Curly’s doin’.  He may be up to some more mischief.”