Towards the end of August the company decided to build a spur railroad connecting the mines with the Southern Pacific Railway at Cline Station. As I had some little experience in surveying, I was taken off the boilers and sent as rod-man with Himan the engineer, who was to be in charge of the work. This was a very nice change, and Himan was a fine fellow to work for, and willing to explain and teach all he could as the work went along. He was, however, very hot-headed, which got him into trouble while I was with him, and nearly cost him his life some years later. We were measuring one day on the dump (earth-fill), when a Mexican came along with a wheel-scraper. Himan called to the Mexican to stop, but the latter either did not hear or paid no attention, and drove his scraper over the tape. Himan cursed him in Spanish and English for his carelessness. The Mexican promptly turned loose his team, saying in Spanish, "You can’t curse me," drew his knife and came at Himan. My rod was lying at my side, and I grabbed it and made a lunge for the Mexican, which distracted his attention, and the axeman coming up at the time, his ardour cooled a little. He went off after his team, and that night drew his pay and quit. The rest of us persuaded Himan to carry a pistol, as Mexicans will hold a grudge for months and get even if they can. About a week later I was helping Himan in the office, when he pulled out his pistol and laid it on the table. I picked it up, and found the hammer so rusted in the seat, from carrying it in the hip pocket without a holster, that I could not cock it. I advised Himan either not to carry a gun, or else to keep it in working condition.