Explore "Carson of Red River" by Harold Bindloss on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Kit did not know where he would get breakfast, and he indulged his appetite. The food was good and all that bothered him was he could not copy the workmen's speed. Bacon, fried potatoes, beans and slabs of pie vanished; the men drained cans of tea and shouted for fresh supplies. They were muscular fellows. Although they were Western, Kit thought their type simpler, and, in a way, more primitive than the mechanics he had known. The shipyard workers were sportsmen, politicians, and sometimes philosophers. At the engine shops one heard much about racing, football and social economics. It looked as if the Canadians concentrated on their occupation, and now they frankly concentrated on their supper. In fact, Kit felt the rude feast was marked by something of a Homeric touch.
The men's clothes were thin, and one saw their bodies were molded on classical lines; sometimes an unconscious pose was statuesque. Then one got a hint of careless, optimistic confidence. The bridge gang obviously did not bother; they labored, fought, and trusted their luck. Kit felt the gang and the bunk-house harmonized. The piles of food, rusty stove, and battered tin lamps were properly in the picture. All was rude and vigorous, and had nothing to do with modern cultivation.