The
world seemed alive--alive through its creatures, through the solemn,
uplifting vitality of its forests, through the sprouting, budding spring
growths just bursting into green, through the wine-draught of its very
air, through the hurrying, busy preoccupied murmur of its streams. Bob
breathed his lungs full again and again, and tingled from head to foot.
"How high are we here?" he called to Welton.
"About six thousand. Why? Getting short-winded?"
"I could run ten miles," replied Bob. "Come on. I'm going to look at the
stream."
"Not at a run," protested Welton. "No, sir! At a nice, middle-aged,
dignified, fat _walk_!"
They sauntered down the length of the trestle, with its miniature steel
tracks, to where the flume began. It proved to be a very solidly built
V-trough, alongside which ran a footboard. Welton pointed to the
telephone wire that paralleled it.
"When we get going," said he, "we just turn the stream in here, clamp
our sawn lumber into bundles of the right size, and 'let her went!'
There'll be three stations along the line, connected by 'phone, to see
that things go all right.
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