On Sunday, October 8, 1871, the town of Peshtigo in the North Wisconsin woods lay baked and sultry in the autumn heat. The air was eerie in its stillness. Old-timer John Cameron recalled, "Not a crow, not a bird of any kind was heard to call." Over the past three months, crews building the North Western railroad nearby had been burning leftover timber. In the small, quiet town of Peshtigo, every man, woman, and child had eyes streaked with red. Shortly after 9 o'clock that Sunday evening, a low moaning could be heard far off in the timber. It soon became a steady roar, and folks began to emerge curiously from their doors. Suddenly a whirling slab of fire came hurtling out of nowhere and dropped onto the sawdust street. Within moments, a seething, soaring hell broke loose, and a hurricane of fire turned some 700 people to white ash and black cinder.

Q. Underline the sentence which suggests that the building of the railroad brought discomfort to the residents of Peshtigo.