For an hour after breakfast the two men were busy with papers, maps and
drawings relative to the camp work. Howland had kept in close touch with
operations from Chicago and by the time they were ready to leave for
outside inspection he was confident that he could take hold without the
personal assistance of either Gregson or Thorne. Before that hour had
passed he was certain of at least one other thing--that it was not
incompetency that was taking the two senior engineers back to the home
office. He had half expected to find the working-end in the same
disorganized condition as its chiefs. But if Gregson and Thorne had been
laboring under a tremendous strain of some kind it was not reflected in
the company's work, as shown in the office records which the latter had
spread out before him.

"That's a big six months' work," said Thorne when they had finished.
"Good Lord, man, when we first came up here a jack-rabbit couldn't hop
through this place where you're sitting, and now see what we've got!
Fifty cabins, four mess-halls, two of the biggest warehouses north of
Winnipeg, a post-office, a hospital, three blacksmith shops and--a
ship-yard!"

"A ship-yard!" exclaimed Howland in genuine surprise.

"Sure, with a fifty-ton ship half built and frozen stiff in the ice. You
can finish her in the spring and you'll find her mighty useful for
bringing supplies from the head of the Wekusko. We're using horses on
the ice now. Had a deuced hard time in getting fifty of 'em up from Le
Pas. And besides all this, we've got six miles of road-bed built to the
south and three to the north. We've got a sub-camp at each working-end,
but most of the men still prefer to come in at night." He dragged
himself slowly and painfully to his feet as a knock sounded at the door.