Evelyn did not answer this.

"I was glad you got that cart up the hill. What made you think of it?"

"The pony was played out, though it was a plucky beast. I suppose I felt
sorry for it. I've been driven hard myself."

The girl's eyes softened. She had seen him use his strength, though it
was, she imagined, the strength of determined will and disciplined body
rather than bulk of muscle, for the man was hard and lean. The strength
also was associated with a gentleness and a sympathy with the lower
creation that appealed to her.

"How hard were you driven?" she asked.

"Sometimes, until I could scarcely crawl back to my tent or the
sleeping-shack at night. Out yonder, construction bosses and contractors'
foremen are skilled in getting the utmost value of every dollar out of a
man. I've had my hands worn to raw wounds and half my knuckles bruised
until it was almost impossible to bend them."

"Were you compelled to work like that?"

"I thought so. It seemed to be the custom of the country; one had to get
used to it."

Evelyn hesitated a moment; though she was interested.

"But was there nothing easier? Had you no money?"