It's
hell!" He stopped, breathless.
"Why don't you quit?" suggested Anthony.
"Quit! What for? Good Lord! We LIKE it. Here we are at Pedro
Miguel, by-the-way. We'll be into the Cut shortly."
To his left Anthony beheld another scene somewhat similar to the
one at Gatun. Other movable steel cranes, with huge wide-flung
arms, rose out of another chasm in which were extensive concrete
workings. From a distance the towers resembled parts of a half-
constructed cantilever bridge of tremendous height. Another army
was toiling at the bottom of the pit, more cars shunted back and
forth, more rock-crushers rumbled; but, before Kirk's eye had
photographed more than a small part, the motor-car had sped past
and was rolling out upon a bridge spanning the Canal itself. To
the northward appeared an opening cut through the hills, and
Runnels said, simply:
"Culebra!"
A moment later he announced: "We leave the P. R. R tracks here and
switch in on the I. C. C. Now you'll begin to see something."
Down into the Cut the little car went, and at last Anthony saw the
active pulsating heart of this stupendous undertaking. The low
range was severed by a gorge blasted out by human hands. It was a
mountain valley in the making. High up on its sides were dirt and
rock trains, dozens of compressed-air drills, their spars
resembling the masts of a fleet of catboats at anchor--behind
these, grimy, powerful steam shovels which rooted and grunted
quite like iron hogs.
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