They had been recruited in Vancouver, and included a few runaway sailormen.

One told him that they were going into the ranges to fill up a muskeg, and he expressed his opinion of the meanness of the company for not sending them up in a Colonist train, and offered to throw Weston off the car if he did not agree with him.

He explained that he had already pitched off two of his companions.
Weston endeavored to pacify him; but, failing in this and in an attempt to crawl over the couplings into the adjoining car, he reluctantly grappled with the man and succeeded in throwing him into a corner.

Then one of the others rose and stood over his prostrate comrade with a big billet of firwood that had been used to wedge the rails.
"I can't sleep with all this circus going on," he said gruffly.

"Make any more trouble and off you go." The other man apparently decided to lie still, and his comrade turned to Weston.
"Guess the construction boss isn't going to find them tally out right to-morrow," he observed, "We've lost quite a few of them coming up the line." He went to sleep again soon afterward, and Weston was left in peace.
In front of him the great locomotive snorted up the climbing track, hurling clouds of sparks aloft.