Work progressed steadily, and before winter set in construction
camps were built far into "the gap," the furthermost one being close
to the base of a majestic mountain, which was also named "The
Crow's Nest." It arose beyond the camp with almost overwhelming
immensity. Dense forests of Douglas fir and bull pines shouldered
their way up one-third of its height, but above the timber line
the shaggy, bald rock reared itself thousands of feet skyward,
desolate, austere and deserted by all living things; not even the
sure-footed mountain goat travelled up those frowning, precipitous
heights; no bird rested its wing in that frozen altitude. The
mountain arose, distinct, alone, isolated, the most imperial
monarch of all that regal Pass.
The construction gang called it "Old Baldy," for after working some
months around its base, it began to grow into their lives. Not so,
however, with the head engineer from Montreal, who regarded it
always with baleful eye, and half laughingly, half seriously,
called it his "Jonah."
"Not a thing has gone right since we worked in sight of that old
monster," he was heard to say frequently; and it did seem as if
there were some truth in it. There had been deaths, accidents and
illness among the men.
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