Hale drew breath and
raised in his stirrups.
"It's a cinch," he said aloud. "It's a shame to take the money."
Yet nothing was in sight now but a valley farmhouse above the ford
where he must cross the river and one log cabin on the hill
beyond. Still on the other river was the only woollen mill in
miles around; farther up was the only grist mill, and near by was
the only store, the only blacksmith shop and the only hotel. That
much of a start the gap had had for three-quarters of a century--
only from the south now a railroad was already coming; from the
east another was travelling like a wounded snake and from the
north still another creeped to meet them. Every road must run
through the gap and several had already run through it lines of
survey. The coal was at one end of the gap, and the iron ore at
the other, the cliffs between were limestone, and the other
elements to make it the iron centre of the world flowed through it
like a torrent.
"Selah! It's a shame to take the money."
He splashed into the creek and his big black horse thrust his nose
into the clear running water. Minnows were playing about him.
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