"The gorge was an awful hole, two hundred and fifty feet wide and
two hundred deep, with the river dashing white over the ledges at
its bottom. It was to be spanned by a cantilever bridge with an
intermediate truss.

"We found our work all cut out for us. Every beam and girder was on
the ground, numbered and ready. There were plenty of coolies for
the ordinary labor. So we got busy at once. A temporary wire
suspension-bridge was thrown across above the site of the
cantilever, and work begun from both sides at the same time.

"From the outset I had determined to give Lancy no chance for
fault-finding, but to have as little to do with him as I possibly
could.

"Little by little our beam-trusses pushed out from each bank, and
the gap between them grew narrower.

"One thing that interested me especially at first was the wild
bees. For miles back into the hills their nests lined the walls of
the gorge. Millions of them made it their thoroughfare to and from
the flower-covered plains below us. Particularly at morning and
night their hum, echoing through the ravine and mingling with the
murmur of the river, sounded like the drone of distant machinery.

"These bees were black and small; but they made up in fierceness
for what they lacked in size. Their stings were far more painful
and poisonous than those of our bees here. Some of us, myself
included, learned this by experience; and we didn't need more than
one lesson.