At this time the Railroad, the Railroad of all Roads, the longest on earth, gentlemen, partners and tilikums, was being put through the hills, through the Rockies and the Selkirks and the Eagle Range. The woods were full of Contractors, small and big, good and measly, generous and mean, men and pigs. But above them all towered the genial, blue-eyed Andy. The men said "Andy" here and "Andy" there. Andy was responsible if the bottom fell out of the sky, or if the earth blew up. He was held to account for floods and wash-outs, for land slides and snow slides, and he took 'em all as they came. The men said "damn Andy" or "Andy's all right." They got drunk and denounced him, and perhaps got sober and blessed him. On the whole they loved his blue eyes even if they damned them. But while he held the road which he had built, and before it was turned over to the men in Montreal, the good men and the great scoundrels (there always being talk of railroad boodlers) who thought the thing out and financed it, he charged a devil of a rate for passage on it. So everyone who went East or West went to Andy or some underling for a pass. Pete did it. There was only one tale to tell. "I want to go up to Ashcroft to get a job, Mr. Vanderdunk," said everyone. Pete said it, and Andy being in a heavenly temper (as he wasn't when I struck him for a pass) let the Sitcum Siwash through easily, just as he had done before when Jenny was with him. "I want to wu'k on the railroad, Sir," said Pete. When he went off with the pass he said he didn't want to "wu'k" on any railroad. He spent a dollar in drink and went on board the train drunk. It was the first time since the night when he had nearly killed Jenny that he had been very "full." The smoking car was crammed with men who had passes: men who wanted to work at the Black Cañon and those who didn't. Some were bound for Kamloops, some for the work on the Shushwap, some for Eagle Pass and Sicamoose Narrows, and there was one farming Johnny or mossback for Spallumcheen. They were all lively--some full up, some half-full. They yelled and laughed and yarned and swore and said-- "Oh, what are yer givin' us, taffy?" They declined to swallow taffy--but they swallowed whisky. An old prospector gave Pete drink. Then he heard them tell the tale of the accident at the Mill. "Some rotten son of a gun spiked the logs," said the man behind Pete. "I heerd they'd found ten logs spiked," said another. "They bin over 'em with an adze." "If they corral the kiddy wot done it, he'll wear hemp," said another. "Serve him right, damn his immortal," returned the first speaker.