About midday
With cries of delight we forded the little crystal stream wherever the trail plunged knee-deep through it . Higher and higher we climbed , mile after mile , our packs on our shoulders , our hearts very merry . I was as happy as a holiday schoolboy , willing this should go on for ever , dreading to think of the grim-visaged toil that awaited us . About midday we reached the end . Gangs of men were everywhere , ripping and tearing at the mountain side . There was a roar of blasting , and rocks hurtled down on us . Bunkhouses of raw lumber sweated in the sun .