seven o'clock in the morning
how some other law , which he did not know the name of , dwelt in the resisting strength of the iron , worked in the action of his muscles . His legs trembled , as he braced himself to the effort ; the veins of his neck throbbed hard ; but the muscles of his arms and chest held firm as the crowbar they guided , and slowly , reluctantly , sullenly , the rock went over on its side . He dropped the crowbar from his stiffening grasp and drew himself up , flinging his shoulders back and panting deep and strong . It was between six and seven o'clock in the morning , a radiant June morning , which seemed alive with pleasant things . As he stood with his head thrown back , taking a good draught of the delicious mountain air , a bluebird shot , like a bit of the sky , in and out among the solemn pines and delicate aspens . He looked down on the tangle of blossoming vines and bushes that latticed the borders of the brook , which came dashing down from the cañon , still rioting on its way . The water would soon have another cause for clamor , in the big stone that had so long cumbered the road .