I
know now how the surgeon must feel at the crucial moment of his
accomplished operation. Will the patient live or die?
The road-worker drew a long breath as he came out from under the
anesthetic.
"I guess, partner," said he, "you're trying to put a stone or two
in my ruts!"
I had him!
"Exactly," I exclaimed eagerly.
We both paused. He was the first to speak--with some
embarrassment:
"Say, you're just like a preacher I used to know when I was a
kid. He was always sayin' things that meant something else and
when you found out what he was drivin' at you always felt kind of
queer in your insides."
I laughed.
"It's a mighty good sign," I said, "when a man begins to feel
queer in the insides. It shows that something is happening to
him."
With that we walked back to the road, feeling very close and
friendly--and shovelling again, not saying much. After quite a
time, when we had nearly cleaned up the landslide, I heard the
husky road-worker chuckling to himself; finally, straightening
up, he said:
"Say, there's more things in a road than ever I dreamt of."
"I see," said I, "that the new spectacles are a good fit."
The road-worker laughed long and loud.
"You're a good one, all right," he said. "I see what YOU mean.
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