They built benches on the platform cars and fitted up the box cars in similar fashion. They trimmed the Stump Dodger with spruce fronds till the locomotive looked like a moving wood-lot. Every flag in Sunkhaze was borrowed for the decoration of the coach, and then, in a final burst of enthusiasm, the men subscribed a sum sufficient to hire the best brass band in that part of the state. “It took us some little time to wake up enough to know how much we needed a railroad acrost here,” said Dan, “but now that we're awake we propose to let folks know it. Them whose hearin' is sensitive had better take to the tall timber that day.” Parker met his party at Sunkhaze station on the morning of the great occasion. They came in the P. K. & R. president's private car, that was run upon a siding to remain during the week the railroad men entertained their friends at their new Kennemagon Lake camp. “I expect,” said Parker, as the little steamer puffed across sunlit Spinnaker toward Poquette, “that the men have arranged a rather rugged celebration for to-day; but I know them well, gentlemen, and I want to assure you that all they do is meant in the best spirit.” As the steamer approached the wharf, tooting its whistle, there was an explosion ashore that made the little craft appear to hop out of the water. All the anvils of the construction crew had been stuffed with powder, and all were fired simultaneously with a battery current! With a yell the shore crowd rushed to the side of the steamer. Dan was leading, his broad face glowing with good humor. Groups of cheering men clutched the squirming, protesting railroad owners and their friends, and bore them on sturdy shoulders to the waiting train. The band from its station on a platform car boomed “Hail to the Chief,” the engine whistle screaming an obligato. Then the men swarmed upon the cars, crowding every corner, occupying every foothold--but with the thoughtful deference of the woods not venturing to encroach upon the privacy of the coach after they had deposited their guests there. On the “half-way horseback,” so-called, Parker ordered the train halted, for he wished to show Mr. Jerrard an experiment in culvert construction, in which he took an originator's pride. The band kept on playing and the men roared choruses. After the young engineer had bellowed his explanation in Jerrard's ear, and Jerrard had howled back some warm compliments, striving to make himself heard above the uproar, the two climbed the embankment and approached the coach. The band was quiet now. “Speech!” cried some one, as Jerrard mounted the steps. He smiled and shook his head. “Speech! Speech!” The manager turned to enter his car, still smiling, tolerant but disregarding. At a sudden command from Connick, men reached out on both sides of the train and clutched the branches of sturdy undergrowth that the haste of the construction work had not permitted the crews to clear entirely away.