A huge camp was built to house and feed several hundred men and horses who worked around the clock all summer long. The mess hall was a long building with wood floor and sides. The top was covered with canvas. At chow time it reminded me of a bunch of hogs ail talking, cussing and swatt¬ing flies, but mostly it was a continuous gulping of food and yelling for more. The men had teriffic appetites as the work hours were long and hard. The kitchen was equipped with big stoves heated by kerosene or oil and the refrigerator was of wood frame covered with fly screen and burlap sack material. The burlap was kept wet so as to keep the interior cool. There were huge stew pots so big, I swear a man could drown in them. Swarms of flies were everywhere in spite of fly traps and sticky paper. The cook was big, fat, sloppy and good natured. He would con me into washing dishes for a piece of pie. When it came time to eat the pie, there were so many flies I couldn't tell if I was eating flies or berries. Sunday was a day of rest and time was spent reading, washing clothes or sleep¬ing in the shade of a cottonwood tree. Several times we kids went to the camp and raced our saddle horses against theirs. We won most of the races as we had riding horses while theirs were mostly work plugs, but the men gathered around, laughing and betting on the race. That summer I was riding an overgrown, ornery, Roman-nosed gray gelding named Spark Plug which was never beaten by the construction crew. I rode down to their camp and a group of men wanted to race me. I said "O.K." but when they brought their horse out it was a beautiful racing- type saddle horse. Being a kid I knew my chances of winning were slim unless their horse had a bad ankle or something. They kept delaying the race, trying to get me to bet against them. They off¬ered me more and more money until I said I would bet my saddle and bridle but not my horse. We raced on the grassy spot which runs parallel to the railroad tracks, and I lost. Spark Plug did his best. He didn't want to give up and ran into some brush and knocked me out of the saddle. I caught Spark Plug and rode back and everyone gathered around to collect the bet. I removed the old worn Army McClellan Calvary saddle and the bridle, A man came up with a piece of barbed wire and I fastened it around Spark Plug's neck and proceeded to lead him away, the men watching me quiet-like. I reached the gate and they yelled for me to come back. They put the saddle and bridle back on 101