The engineer looked back into the shadows cast by the beetling cliffs, and then up along his line of stakes. “Well,” he replied, “all I have to say is, speaking from a railroad point of view, he’s got a valuable property.” He glanced ahead at his flagman and directed him to a point farther up in the field, to which point, having fixed and recorded it, he himself hastened, followed by Gabriel and Dannie. Up to this moment the boy had not opened his mouth. Now, with the ring of rising indignation in his voice, he spoke up:-- “Has this railroad got a right to run through my gran’father’s land without his permission?” Either the engineer was in haste and did not wish to be again interrupted, or else he did not think the boy of sufficient consequence to demand his attention; for, after looking him over for a moment, he went on with his work without replying. Dannie repeated the question. “I say has your railroad got a right to run through my gran’father’s land if he don’t want it to?” The man evidently decided to reply. “Yes,” he said snappishly, “got a right to run plumb through his house; and I’m not sure but we shall if he does any kicking.” “An’ have you got a right to run through that graveyard down yonder?” “Oh! graveyards don’t count when there’s a railroad to be built. Come! you’re right in my line of sight. Get over in the road there if you want to see. Hadn’t you better run home, anyway, and tell the old man to look out for his cattle? First thing he knows the engine will be a-puffing, and the bell a-ringing, and the whistle a-blowing right through his barnyard, scaring all his live-stock into fits.” This was the last straw. It was bad enough to drive a stake in his grandfather’s graveyard; it was worse to order him out of his grandfather’s field; but to ridicule, in that coarse way, the old man whom he loved, that was the crowning insult. Dannie’s face was white, and his hands, still tight in his trousers pockets, were clenched in anger. “This land is my gran’father’s, an’ I’ll stand where I please on it,” he declared. “An’ that graveyard is my gran’father’s, an’ your railroad’ll never lay a tie nor put a rail in it while Gran’pap and I have breath in our bodies. An’ your making fun of an old man like him when he ain’t here is the act of a coward!” [Illustration: “‘This land is my gran’father’s, an’ I’ll stand where I please on it.’”] The boy stopped, breathless, his breast heaving and his eyes flashing. Gabriel, his face glowing with exultation at the lad’s spirit, pulled his old horn from his pocket, thrust it to his lips, and gave a tremendous blast. The engineer stopped in the middle of a record, looked the boy over again from head to foot, and then burst into a hearty laugh.