As our train-load of Activity came to a stand, this other train-load
of Exhaustion rumbled slowly away, the smoky lamps glinting on
polished, olive-coloured flesh, on hairy arms, and swarthy faces shut
to consciousness.
Close to the tunnel-head we alighted, and went on into the dream on
foot, the gallery contracting to a few feet in height, where a group
of black figures bent over rock-drills which creaked and groaned. I
saw the drill-holes filled with dynamite, and retired with the others
while the fuse was lighted. I heard from afar off the thunderous
detonations as the rock-face was shattered. I saw the debris being
cleared away, before the drills should begin to grind again; and the
remembrance that, in another rathole on the Swiss side, another party
of workers was patiently advancing towards us, in precisely the same
way, sent a mysterious thrill through my blood.
"Suppose the two galleries don't meet end to end?" I spoke out my
thought.
"But they will," said Bolzano. "Our calculations are precise, and we
have allowed for an error of two inches: I do not think there will be
more. There is a great system of triangulation across the mountains,
and every few months our reckonings are verified. By-and-bye, we shall
hear the sound of each other's drills; then, down will come the last
dividing wall of rock, and Swiss and Italians will be shaking hands.
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