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diff --git a/29656-h/29656-h.htm b/29656-h/29656-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b85d8b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/29656-h/29656-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8034 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Mountain Divide, by Frank H. Spearman.</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + @media screen { + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none;border-top:thin dashed silver;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + } + @media print { + hr.pb {border:none;page-break-after: always;} + .pagenum { display:none; } + } + a {text-decoration: none;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center; width: auto;} + .figtag {height: 1px;} + .chsp {margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em;} + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + hr.toprule {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver; clear:both;} + .caption {font-size: 90%; text-align:center;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + h3 {font-size:1.0em;} + hr.x300 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 300px;} + h1,h2,h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + hr.p10 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 10%;} + p.tp {font-size:1em; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-align:center;} + h1 {font-size:1.8em;} + td.pad {padding-bottom:5px;} + hr.x30 {border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width: 30px;} + h2 {font-size:1.6em;} +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Mountain Divide, by Frank H. Spearman + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Mountain Divide + +Author: Frank H. Spearman + +Illustrator: Armand Both + +Release Date: August 10, 2009 [EBook #29656] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MOUNTAIN DIVIDE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/c0001-img.jpg' alt='' title='' width='277' height='404' /><br /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>THE MOUNTAIN DIVIDE</h1> +<hr class='pb' /> +<table summary='book list' style='width:300px'> +<tr><td align='center'><span style='font-size:1.3em;'>BOOKS BY FRANK H. SPEARMAN</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center'>PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</td></tr> + +<tr><td><hr class='x300' /></td></tr> + +<tr><td class='pad'>ROBERT KIMBERLY. Illustrated by James Montgomery Flagg. 12mo Net $1.30</td></tr> +<tr><td class='pad'>WHISPERING SMITH. A Story of Rocky Mountain Life. Illustrated by N. C. Wyeth. 12mo $1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td class='pad'>THE DAUGHTER OF A MAGNATE. Illustrated. 12mo $1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td>DOCTOR BRYSON. A Novel. 12mo $1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='x30' /></td></tr> +<tr><td>THE MOUNTAIN DIVIDE. Illustrated. 12mo Net $1.25</td></tr> +<tr><td><hr class='x30' /></td></tr> +<tr><td>THE STRATEGY OF GREAT RAILROADS. With Maps. 12mo Net $1.50</td></tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/f0003-img.jpg' alt='' title='' width='355' height='562' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +AS BUCK’S STRAINING EYE FOLLOWED THE MOVEMENT,<br /> +THE SECOND INDIAN STRUCK THE CLUB DOWN.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:2.2em;margin-top:20px;margin-bottom:40px;'>THE<br />MOUNTAIN DIVIDE</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:20px;'>BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:80px;'>FRANK H. SPEARMAN</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:10px;'>ILLUSTRATED BY</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:60px;'>ARMAND BOTH</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS<br />NEW YORK :::::::::::::::::: 1912</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-top:20px;font-variant:small-caps;'>Copyright, 1912, by</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> +<hr class='p10' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:20px;'>Published September, 1912</p> + +<div style='margin:10px auto; text-align:center;'> +<img alt='emblem' src='images/f0005-img.jpg' /> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='margin-top:20px;'>THIS STORY WITHOUT LOVE,<br />IS NONE THE LESS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-top:5px;margin-bottom:5px;'>TO</p> +<p class='tp' >MY YOUNGEST SON</p> +<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:20px;font-size:1.4em;margin-top:5px;'>ARTHUR DUNNING SPEARMAN</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>As Buck’s straining eye followed the movement, the second Indian struck the club down.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>It was only after a moment that the lineman could be seen to gain.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“Let that gate alone or I’ll brain you,” he cried.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>250</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>For Scott to draw and fire was but one movement.</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>300</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2>THE MOUNTAIN DIVIDE</h2> +<div class='chsp' style='padding-top:0'> +<a name='CHAPTER_I' id='CHAPTER_I'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +</div> +<p>Night had fallen and a warm rain drifting +down from the mountains hung in a mist over +the railroad yards and obscured the lights of +Medicine Bend. Two men dismounting from +their drooping horses at the foot of Front Street +threw the reins to a man in waiting and made +their way on foot across the muddy square to the +building which served the new railroad as a station +and as division head-quarters. In Medicine +Bend, the town, the railroad, everything was +new; and the broad, low pine building which +they entered had not yet been painted.</p> +<p>The public waiting-room was large, roughly +framed, and lighted with hanging kerosene lamps. +Within the room a door communicated with the +agent’s office, and this was divided by a wooden +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +railing into a freight office and a ticket and telegraph +office.</p> +<p>It could be seen, as the two men paused at the +door of the inner room, that the first wore a military +fatigue-cap, and his alert carriage as he threw +open his cape-coat indicated the bearing of an +American army officer. He was of medium height, +and his features and eyes implied that the storms +and winds of the plains and mountains were familiar +friends. This was Park Stanley, charged at +that time with the construction of the first transcontinental +railroad.</p> +<p>The agent’s office, which he and his companion +now looked into, was half-filled with a crowd of +frontiersmen, smoking, talking, disputing, asking +questions, and crowding against the fence that +railed off the private end of the room; while +at the operator’s table next to the platform window +a tall, spindling boy was trying in the confusion +behind him to get a message off the wire.</p> +<p>Stanley, eying the lad, noticed how thin his +face was and what a bony frame spread out under +the roundabout jacket that he appeared already +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +to have outgrown. And he concluded this must +be the new operator, Bucks, who for some days +had been expected from the East.</p> +<p>The receiver clicked insistently and Bucks endeavored +to follow the message, but the babel +of talking made it almost impossible. Stanley +heard the boy appeal more than once for less +noise, but his appeals were unheeded. He saw +symptoms of fire in the operator’s eyes as the +latter glared occasionally at the crowd behind +him, but for what followed even Stanley was +unprepared. Bucks threw down his pen and +coming forward with angry impatience ordered +the crowd out of the room.</p> +<p>He pushed the foremost of the intruders back +from the rail and followed up his commands +by opening the wicket gate and driving those +ahead of him toward the door of the waiting-room. +“Get out where you belong,” he repeated, +urging the crowd on. Stanley turned to the +man at his side. “I will go upstairs to write my +message. This must be the new boy, Bob,” he +added; “he acts as if he might make things go.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span></div> +<p>His companion, Bob Scott, smiled as he followed +Stanley out upon the platform and up the +narrow stairway leading to the division offices. +But Bob Scott was conservative. He never +spoke above an undertone and naturally took the +conservative side: “If he only doesn’t make them +go too fast, Colonel,” was his comment.</p> +<p>A tall young man, spare but almost gigantic +in stature, standing back in one corner of the +agent’s office as the men about him were hustled +along, likewise regarded Bucks with surprise +as he saw him start single-handed to expel the +intruders. This was the mountain telegraph lineman, +Bill Dancing, as simple as he was strong, +and ready at any time to be surprised, but not +often disconcerted. In this instance, however, +he was amazed, for almost before he realized it +the energetic operator was hustling him out with +the others.</p> +<p>When Bucks thought the room cleared he turned +to go back to his table, but he saw that one +man had been overlooked. This man was still +sitting on a stool in the farthest corner of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +dimly lighted room. The spindling operator +without hesitation walked over to him and laid +his hand on the man’s shoulder. Dancing, looking +back through the door, held his breath.</p> +<p>“Move out of here, please,” said Bucks, “into +the public waiting-room.” The man rose with the +utmost politeness. “Sorry to be in your way,” +he returned mildly, though there was a note not +quite pleasant in his voice.</p> +<p>“Your place is outside,” continued the operator. +“I can’t do anything with a mob in here all talking +at once.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t done my talking yet,” suggested the +man, with a shade of significance. This, however, +was lost on Bucks, who looked sharply at the stool +from which the man had risen.</p> +<p>“I think this stool is mine,” said he, picking it +up and examining it. “It is mine,” he added, +after a moment’s inspection. “Please move on.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps before I go,” returned the man with +the same unpleasant irony, “you will tell me +whether you have an express package here for +Harvey Levake.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span></div> +<p>“Of course I will, Harvey,” responded the operator +in a matter-of-fact way. “Just wait a +minute.”</p> +<p>Levake’s lips stretched into a ghost of a smile, +and his white-lashed gray eyes contracted with +an effort at amiability.</p> +<p>The operator, going inside the railing, ran over +the express way-bills which, not yet entered up, +lay on the freight desk.</p> +<p>“There is a package here for you,” he announced +a moment later, and turning to a heap +of parcels thrown under the desk he searched +among them until he found and produced the +one he sought.</p> +<p>“Here it is––a box of cartridges.”</p> +<p>“What are the charges?” asked the man.</p> +<p>“Four dollars and sixty cents.”</p> +<p>The man laid down a twenty-dollar bank-bill. +The operator hesitated: “I haven’t the change.”</p> +<p>Levake showed no sympathy: “That is not my +fault,” he returned.</p> +<p>The operator looked at him: “Do you want the +package to-night?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span></div> +<p>“If I didn’t, do you suppose I would waste an +hour here waiting for it?”</p> +<p>The boy considered a moment and made a decision, +but it chanced to be the wrong decision. +“Take the package along. Bring me the charges +in the morning.”</p> +<p>Levake made no response beyond a further +glance at the boy somewhat contemptuous; but +he said nothing and picking up his package walked +out. No one opposed him. Indeed, had the operator +been interested he would have noticed with +what marked alacrity every man, as he passed +through the waiting-room, got out of Levake’s +way. Dancing, standing at the door and with +his hair on end, awaited the close of the incident. +He now re-entered the inner office and shut the +waiting-room door behind him with an audible +bang. Bucks, who had returned to his table, +looked around. “Well, who are you?” he demanded +as he regarded Dancing. “And what +are you doing here?”</p> +<p>“Who are you?” retorted Dancing bluntly. +“And what are you doing here?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></div> +<p>“My name is Bucks and I am the new night +operator.”</p> +<p>“You look new. And you act all-fired new. +My name is Bill Dancing and I am the telegraph +lineman.”</p> +<p>“Why, you are the man I am looking for.”</p> +<p>“So I thought, when you pushed me out of +here with the rest of your visitors.”</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you speak up, Bill?” demanded +Bucks calmly.</p> +<p>A quizzical expression passed over Dancing’s +face. “I didn’t want to break the calm. When +I see a man walking around a powder magazine +I hate to do anything that might set it off.</p> +<p>“So your name is Bucks,” continued Dancing, +as he walked through the wicket and threw his +wet hat among the way-bills on the freight desk. +“Well, Mr. Bucks, do you know what was most +likely to happen to you any minute before you got +through with that crowd, just now?”</p> +<p>“No, I don’t know. Why?” asked Bucks, +busy with his messages.</p> +<p>“Have you ever seen a shooting mix-up in Medicine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +Bend?” demanded Dancing in a tone of calculated +indifference.</p> +<p>“No,” answered Bucks in decided but off-hand +manner, “I never saw a shooting mix-up anywhere.”</p> +<p>“Never got shot up just for fun?” persisted +Dancing. “Do you know,” he continued without +waiting for an answer, “who that polite man +was, the last one you shouldered out of here?” +Dancing pointed as he spoke to the corner from +which Levake had risen, but the operator, straightening +out the papers before him, did not look +around.</p> +<p>“No, Bill, I don’t know anybody here. You +see I am a stranger.”</p> +<p>“I see you are a stranger,” echoed Dancing. +“Let me tell you something, then, will you?”</p> +<p>“Tell it quick, Bill.”</p> +<p>“There is no cemetery in this town.”</p> +<p>“I have understood it is very healthy, Bill,” +returned the operator.</p> +<p>“Not for everybody.” Bill Dancing paused to +let the words sink in, as his big eyes fixed upon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +the young operator’s eyes. “Not for everybody––sometimes +not for strangers. Strangers have to +get used to it. There is a river here,” added the +lineman sententiously. “It’s pretty swift, too.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean you have got to be careful how you +do things out in this country.”</p> +<p>“But, Bill,” persisted the lad, “if there is going +to be any business done in this office we have +got to have order, haven’t we?” The lineman +snorted and the operator saw that his appeal +had fallen flat. “My batteries, Bill,” he added, +changing the subject, “are no good at all. I sent +for you because I want you to go over them now, +to-night, and start me right. What are you going +to do?”</p> +<p>Dancing had begun to poke at the ashes in the +stove. “Build a fire,” he returned, looking about +for material. He gathered up what waste paper +was at hand, pushed it into the stove, and catching +up the way-bills from the desk, threw them +in on the paper and began to feel in his wet +pockets for matches.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<p>“Hold on,” cried Bucks. “What do you mean? +You must be crazy!” he exclaimed, running to the +stove and pulling the way-bills out.</p> +<p>“Not half so crazy as you are,” replied Dancing +undisturbed. “I’m only trying to show you +how crazy you are. Burning up way-bills isn’t a +circumstance to what you did just now. You +are the looniest operator I ever saw.” As he +looked at Bucks he extended his finger impressively. +“When you laid your hand on that +man’s shoulder to-night––the one sitting on your +stool––I wouldn’t have given ten cents for your +life.”</p> +<p>Bucks regarded him with astonishment. “Why +so?”</p> +<p>“He’s the meanest man between here and Fort +Bridger,” asserted Dancing. “He’d think no +more of shooting you than I would of scratching +a match.” Bucks stared at the comparison. “He +is the worst scoundrel in this country and partners +with Seagrue and John Rebstock in everything +that’s going on, and even they are afraid of him.”</p> +<p>Dancing stopped for breath. “Talk about my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +making a fire out of way-bills! When I saw you +lay your hand on that man, I stopped breathing––can’t +breathe just right yet,” he muttered, pulling +at his shirt collar. “Do you know why you +didn’t get killed?”</p> +<p>“Why, no, Bill, not exactly,” confessed Bucks +in embarrassment.</p> +<p>“Because Levake was out of cartridges. I +heard him tell Rebstock so when they walked +past me.”</p> +<p>“Thank you for posting me. How should I +know he was Seagrue’s partner, or who Rebstock +is? Let’s make a bargain. I will be more careful +in clearing out the office, and you be more +careful about building fires. There’s wood in the +baggage-room. I couldn’t get out to get it for +fear the crowd would steal the tickets.”</p> +<p>“Well, you are ‘out’ four dollars and sixty cents +charges on the cartridges,” continued Dancing, +“and you had better say nothing about it. If +you ever ask Levake for the money he will kill +you.”</p> +<p>Bucks looked rebellious. “It’s only right for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span> +him to pay the charges. I shall ask him for them +the next time I see him. And what is more he +will have to pay, I don’t care whose partner he is.”</p> +<p>Dancing now regarded the operator with unconcealed +impatience. “I suppose there are more +where you came from,” he muttered. “They will +need a lot of them here, if they carry on like +that. How old are you?” he demanded of Bucks +abruptly.</p> +<p>“Seventeen.”</p> +<p>“How long have you been in this country?”</p> +<p>Bucks looked at the clock. “About five hours, +Bill.”</p> +<p>“Reckon time close, don’t you?”</p> +<p>“Have to, Bill, in the railroad business.”</p> +<p>Dancing reflected a moment. “Five hours,” he +repeated. “If you don’t get killed within the +next five you may live to be a useful citizen of +Medicine Bend. Where are you from, and how did +you happen to come away out here on the plains?”</p> +<p>“I am from Pittsburgh. I had to quit school +and go to work.”</p> +<p>“Where did you go to school?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></div> +<p>“Well, I didn’t go–––”</p> +<p>“Quit before you went, did you?”</p> +<p>“I mean, I was preparing for Van Dyne College. +One of my brothers teaches there. I couldn’t start +there after I lost my father––he was killed in the +Wilderness Campaign, Bill. But when I can +earn money enough, I am going back to Van +Dyne and take an engineering course.”</p> +<p>“Got it all figured out, have you?”</p> +<p>“Then I heard they were building the Union +Pacific, and I knew something about telegraphing––Jim +Foster and I had a line from the house to +the barn.”</p> +<p>“Had a line from the house to the barn, eh?” +chuckled Dancing.</p> +<p>“So I bought a railroad ticket to Des Moines +from Pittsburgh and staged it to Omaha, and General +Park gave me a job right away and sent me +out on the first train to take this office, nights. I +didn’t even know where Medicine Bend was.”</p> +<p>“Don’t believe you know yet. Now that’s +right, I don’t believe you know yet. You’re a +good boy, but you talk too much.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></div> +<p>“How old are you, Bill?”</p> +<p>“I am twenty.”</p> +<p>“Twenty!” echoed Bucks, as if that were not +very much, either.</p> +<p>“Twenty!” repeated the lineman. “But,” he +added, drawing himself up in his tremendous stature, +with dignity, “I have been on the plains +driving wagons and building telegraph lines for +seven years–––”</p> +<p>“Seven years!” echoed Bucks, now genuinely +admiring his companion.</p> +<p>“My father was a Forty-niner. I was a +line foreman when I was seventeen, for Edward +Creighton, and we put the first telegraph line +through from the Missouri River to the Pacific,” +continued Dancing, ready to back his words with +blows if necessary.</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> an old-timer,” cried Bucks enviously. +“Any good rabbit-shooting around here, Bill?”</p> +<p>“Rabbit-shooting?” echoed Dancing in scorn. +“The only rabbits they shoot around here, young +fellow, are Pittsburgh rabbits, that don’t keep their +ears hid proper. When we go hunting, we go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +antelope-hunting, buffalo-hunting, grizzly-bear +hunting, elk-hunting. Now I don’t say I don’t +like you and I don’t say you won’t do. What +I say is, you talk too much. I’ll tell you what +I’ve learned. I’ve learned not to say too much +at a time. And when I say it, I don’t say it +very loud. And if you don’t get killed, in +advance, you will learn the same thing in the +same way I learned it. Where are your blamed +batteries?”</p> +<p>“Bill, you are all right.”</p> +<p>“I am, am I?”</p> +<p>“First help me enter these way-bills and check +up the express packages so I can deliver them +to this mob.”</p> +<p>“My business isn’t checking up express; but +I like you, young fellow, so, go ahead. Only you +talk too much.”</p> +<p>“Just a moment!”</p> +<p>At these words coming from the other end of +the office, the lineman and the operator looked +around. The military-looking man and his companion +had entered the room unobserved and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +stood at the counter listening to the colloquy between +the Eastern boy and the plainsman––for +neither of the two were more than boys. Dancing +saluted the new-comers. “It’s Colonel Stanley +and Bob Scott,” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>Bucks walked forward. Stanley handed him a +message. “You are the night operator? Here is +a despatch for General Park. Get it out for me +right away, will you?”</p> +<p>Dancing came forward to the railing. “How +are you, Bill?” said Stanley, greeting the lineman +as Bucks read the long message. “I am +going up into the mountains next week, and I +am just asking General Park for a cavalry detail.”</p> +<p>“Going to need me, Colonel?”</p> +<p>“Better hold yourself ready. Can you read +that, young man?” he asked, speaking to Bucks.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Lose no time in getting it off.”</p> +<p>With the words he turned on his heel and leaving +the office went upstairs to the despatcher’s +rooms. During the interval that the message was +being sent, Dancing worked at the express matter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +While the two were busy, Bob Scott, moving +so quietly that he disturbed no one, laid carefully +upon the smouldering paper in the stove such +chips as he could pick from the wood-box, nursing +and developing a little blaze until, without +noise or fuss, he soon had a good fire going. In +all of the mountain country there was but one +kind of men who built fires in that way and these +were Indians.</p> +<p>Such was Bob Scott, who, wet to the skin from +his ride down the hills with Stanley, now stood +slowly drying himself and watching Dancing and +the new operator.</p> +<p>Scott was a half-blood Chippewa Indian, silent +as a mountain night and as patient as time. He +served Colonel Stanley as guide and scout wherever +the railroad man rode upon his surveys or +reconnoissances. Dancing, emerging presently +from the batteries, greeted Scott again, this time +boisterously. The Indian only smiled, but his +face reflected the warmth of his friendship for +the big lineman. And at this juncture Dancing, +slapping him on the shoulder, turned to introduce +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +him to Bucks. The three stood and talked +a moment together, though, perhaps, without +realizing what they were almost at once to go +through together. The outgoing Eastern passenger +train now pulled up to the platform and +Bucks was kept busy for some time selling tickets.</p> +<p>His buyers were all sorts and conditions of men. +And one forlorn-looking woman, with a babe in +her arms and a little girl clinging to her skirt, +asked the price of a ticket to Omaha. When told, +she turned away to count her money. Among +the men were traders and frontiersmen going +to Missouri River markets with buffalo robes; +trappers from the Big Horn country with furs; +Mormon elders on their way from Utah to +their Eastern settlements; soldiers on furlough +and men from the railroad-construction camps +on the front; adventurers, disgusted with the +hardships of frontier life, and gamblers and desperadoes, +restless and always moving.</p> +<p>Bucks needed his wits to watch the money that +was pushed under his little wicket and to make +change without mistake. There was elbowing and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +contention and bad language, but the troublesome +crowd was finally disposed of, and when the last +of the line had left the ticket window the waiting-room +was pretty well cleared. There remained +only a black-bearded man half-asleep in a chair +by the stove, and in one corner on a bench the +woman, who was trying to quiet the child she +held in her lap.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_II' id='CHAPTER_II'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +</div> +<p>As Bucks looked through his embrasure to see +if all had been served, his eye fell on the group +in the corner and he heard the woman suppressing +the sobbing of her little girl. He walked out into +the waiting-room to ask what the trouble was. He +learned afterward that she was the wife of a gambler, +but she told him only that she had followed +her husband to Medicine Bend and was now trying +to get back with her two children to her parents +in Iowa. When she had ascertained the price of +the railroad ticket she found that she lacked five +dollars of the sum needed to make up the fare. +Bucks had just a little money of his own, but he +had counted on using that for his meals. While +he was debating what to do, the elder child tugging +still at the mother’s dress asked for something +to eat, and while the mother tried to quiet +it Bucks felt he could manage somehow without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +the price of the ticket better than this woman +could.</p> +<p>“Give me what money you have,” he said. “I +will get you a ticket.”</p> +<p>“But isn’t the train gone?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>The black-bearded man dozing near the stove +had his ears open although his eyes were closed. +He had heard fragments of the talk and saw the +boy dig into his own pocket, as he would have +expressed it, to start the woman home. After +Bucks had given her the ticket and she was trying +to thank him and to quiet again the tired +child, the drowsy man rose, picked up the woman’s +hand-bag and told her gruffly he would put +her on the train. As he started with her out +into the drizzling rain, he carried her little girl, +and, stopping down the platform at a sheltered +lunch-counter, he bought a bag of doughnuts big +enough to sink a ship. He offered no money to +the man at the counter, but his credit seemed +unquestioned. In the train the seats appeared all +to be taken, but the drowsy man again showed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +his authority by rolling a tipsy fellow out of a +seat and piling him up in a corner near the stove––which +fortunately had no fire in it.</p> +<p>During all this time he had not said a word. +But at the last, having placed the woman and the +children in two seats and made them comfortable, +he asked the mother one question––her husband’s +name. She told him, and, without any comment +or good-bys, he left the car and started through +the rain uptown.</p> +<p>After the train pulled out, the wind shifted +and the rain changed into a snow which, driven +from the mountains, thickened on the wet window +in front of the operator’s table. A message came +for the night yardmaster, and the operator, seeing +the head-light of the switch-engine which was +working close by, put on his cap and stepped out +to deliver the message. As he opened the waiting-room +door, a man confronted him––the bearded +man who had taken the woman and children to +the train. Bucks saw under the visor of a cloth +cap, a straight white nose, a dark eye piercingly +keen, and a rather long, glossy, black beard. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +It was the passenger conductor, David Hawk. +Without speaking, Hawk held out his hand with +a five-dollar bank note in it.</p> +<p>“What is this?” asked Bucks.</p> +<p>“The money you gave the woman.”</p> +<p>Bucks, taking the bill, regarded his visitor with +surprise. “Where did you get this?”</p> +<p>“What’s that to you?”</p> +<p>“But–––”</p> +<p>“Don’t ask questions,” returned Hawk brusquely. +“You’ve got your money, haven’t you?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but–––”</p> +<p>“That’s enough.” And with Bucks staring at +him, Hawk, without a word or a smile, walked +out of the station.</p> +<p>But Bill Dancing had seen the incident and was +ready to answer Bucks’s question as he turned +with the money in his hand. “That is Dave +Hawk,” explained Dancing. “Dave hates a sneak. +The way he got the money from the woman’s +husband was probably by telling him if he didn’t +pay for his wife’s ticket and add enough to +feed her and her babies to the river he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +blow his head off. Dave doesn’t explain things +especially.”</p> +<p>Bucks put the money in his pocket and started +on with his message. The yards covered the +wide flat along the river. Medicine Bend was +then the western operating point for the railroad +and the distributing point for all material used +in the advancing construction through the mountains.</p> +<p>Not until he left the shelter of the station +building did he realize the force of the storm that +was now sweeping across the flat. The wind had +swung into the northwest and blew almost a gale +and the snow stung his face as he started across +the dark yard. There were practically no lights +at all beyond the platform except those in the +roundhouse, too far away to be seen, but the +operator saw the moving head-light of the switch-engine +and hastened across the slippery tracks +toward it. The crew were making up a material +train to send west and the engine was snorting +and puffing among long strings of flat cars loaded +with rails, ties, stringers, and bridge timbers.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></div> +<p>As Bucks neared the working engine it receded +from him, and following it up he soon found his +feet slipping in the wet mud and the wind at +times taking his breath. Conscious of the folly +of running farther, he halted for a moment and +turning his back to the storm resolved to wait +till the engine returned. He chose a spot under +the lee of a box-car, and was soon rewarded by +hearing a new movement from the working engine. +By the increasing noise of the open cylinder +cocks he concluded it was backing toward +him. He stepped across the nearest track to +reach a switch-stand, a car-length away, whence +he thought he could signal the engine with his +lantern. He had nearly reached the switch when +his foot slipped from a rail into a frog that held +him fast. Holding his lantern down, he saw +how he was caught and tried to free his heel. +It seemed as if it might easily be done, but +the more he worked the faster caught he found +himself. For a moment he still made sure he +could loosen his foot. Even when he realized +that this was not easy, he felt no alarm until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +he heard the switch-engine whistle. Through the +driving snow he could see that it was coming +toward him, pushing ahead of it a lead of flat +cars.</p> +<p>Bucks was no stranger to railroad yards even +then, and the realization of his peril flashed +across his mind. He renewed his efforts to loosen +his imprisoned heel. They were useless. He stood +caught in the iron vice. A sweat of fear moistened +his forehead. He hoped for an instant that +the moving cars were not coming on his track; +but almost at once he saw that they were being +pushed toward the very switch he was trying to +reach. Even where he stood, struggling, he was +not six feet away from the switch-stand and +safety. It seemed as if he could almost reach it, +as he writhed and twisted in his agony of apprehension.</p> +<p>He swung his lantern frantically, hoping to +catch the eye of one of the switching crew. But +the only answer was the heavy pounding of the +loaded cars over the rail joints as they were pushed +down upon the helpless operator. Worst of all, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +while he was swinging his lantern high in the +air, the wind sucked the flame up into the globe +and it went out and left him helpless in the dark. +Like the hare caught in the steel teeth of a trap, +the boy stood in the storm facing impending +death.</p> +<p>The bitterest feelings overwhelmed him. After +coming hundreds of miles and plunging into his +work with the most complacent self-confidence, +he stood before the close of the first day about +to be snuffed out of existence as if he were no +more than the flame of his useless lantern. A +cruel sense of pain oppressed his thoughts. Each +second of recollection seemed to cover the ground +of years. The dull, heavy jolting of the slow-coming +cars shook the ground. He twisted and +writhed this way and that and cried out, knowing +there were none to hear him: the wind swept +away his appeal upon its heedless wings; the nearest +car was almost upon him. Then a strange +feeling of calm came over him. He felt that +death was knocking at his heart. Hope had gone, +and his lips were only moving in prayer, when a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +light flashed out of the darkness at his very side +and he felt himself seized as if by a giant and +wrenched away from where he stood and through +the air.</p> +<p>He heard a quick exclamation, saw a lighted +lantern fall to the ground, felt a stinging pain in +his right foot, and knew no more.</p> +<p>When he recovered consciousness, three lanterns +shone in his eyes. He was lying in the mud near +the switch with the engine crew standing over +him. One of the men knelt at his side and he saw +the thin, strong features of a face he had seen +among the railroad men, but one that he knew +then he was never to forget––the face of the yardmaster, +Callahan. Callahan knelt in the storm +with a good-natured expression. The men about +the yardmaster were less kindly.</p> +<p>“Who are you, tar heels?” demanded the engineman +angrily.</p> +<p>Resentment, which would have been quick in +the operator a little earlier, had died in the few +moments in which he had faced death. He answered +only in the quietest way:</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></div> +<p>“I am the night operator.”</p> +<p>“The deuce you are!” exclaimed the man bending +over him.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” demanded the operator, in +turn.</p> +<p>“I am Callahan, the night yardmaster.”</p> +<p>“I have an order for you to send a car of spikes +on No. 7, Callahan. I was trying to find you +when I got caught in the frog.” The pain in his +foot overcame Bucks as he spoke. Another dread +was in his mind and he framed a question to +which he dreaded to hear the answer. “Is my +foot gone?” he faltered.</p> +<p>The yardmaster hesitated a moment and turned +to an older man at his side wearing a heavy cap. +“How about it, doctor?” he asked.</p> +<p>Doctor Arnold, the railway surgeon, a kindly +but stern man, answered briefly, “We won’t take +it off this time. But if he is that careless again +we will take his head off.”</p> +<p>“How old are you, boy?” demanded Callahan.</p> +<p>“Seventeen.”</p> +<p>“Well, your foot isn’t hurt,” he continued +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +gruffly. “But it’s only God’s mercy that I +got here in time to pull you out of the frog.”</p> +<p>The operator was already up. “I hope I shan’t +forget it,” he said, putting out his hand. “Will +you remember the spikes?”</p> +<p>“I will,” responded Callahan grimly. “And I +guess–––”</p> +<p>“Say it,” said the operator gamely, as the +yardmaster hesitated.</p> +<p>“I guess you will.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_III' id='CHAPTER_III'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +</div> +<p>Bucks, after his eventful first night on duty, +slept so heavily that on the following afternoon he +had only time to eat his supper, walk haltingly up +the main street of Medicine Bend and back to +the square, when it was time to relieve the day +man at the station.</p> +<p>But the few minutes in the narrow business +street filled him with interest and at times with +astonishment. Medicine Bend, still very young, +was a mushroom railroad town of frame store +buildings hastily thrown together, and houses, +shanties, and tents. It was already the largest +and most important town between the mountains +and the Missouri River. The Union Pacific Railroad, +now a double-tracked, transcontinental highway, +laid with ninety and one hundred pound steel +rails, and ballasted with disintegrated granite, +a model of railroad construction, equipment, and +maintenance, was, after the close of the Civil War, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +being pushed with light iron rails and heavy +gradients across what was then known to geographers +as the Great American Desert, and the project +of a transcontinental railroad was meant at +that time to unite the chief port of the Pacific +coast, San Francisco, with the leading cities of the +Atlantic seaboard.</p> +<p>A railroad in building across a country considers +first the two uttermost cities (its principal +terminals), or those two portions of the country +which it seeks to connect for the interchange of +traffic.</p> +<p>The Union Pacific and its companion road, the +Central Pacific, afforded, too, the first and last instance +of the United States Government’s becoming +responsible for the building of a railroad. Although +the project of aiding a railroad to be built +somewhere between and connecting the Atlantic +and Pacific Ocean ports had been discussed by +Congress for thirty years before the fall of Fort +Sumter, the extraordinary feeling caused by the +Civil War alone made possible so unusual an undertaking. +President Lincoln himself had given +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +the subject careful thought, and when, after much +controversy and discouraging political intrigue, +the Union and Central Pacific Railroad bills were +ready to pass Congress, Abraham Lincoln was appealed +to to decide a long-standing controversy +concerning the gauge, or width of track, for the +new lines.</p> +<p>After painstaking consideration, he decided on +a gauge of five feet, but the promoters of the line +then persuaded Congress to reduce the figures to +four feet eight and one-half inches, and that +gauge is now the standard gauge for all American +railroads. It would have been better if the +railroad builders had followed Lincoln’s suggestion, +since the traffic of American railroads has +outgrown the possibilities of their gauges. And +within a few years one of the greatest of present-day +railroad builders has declared with emphasis +that a six-foot gauge must one day come to provide +our railroads with the necessary facilities for +handling the enormous and constantly expanding +volume of American railroad traffic.</p> +<p>The young operator, who, in spite of his efforts +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +to conceal his hurt, now limped a little as he +walked up the street of the new railroad town +might well look with curiosity and amazement on +what he saw. The street he walked in was no +more than a long assemblage of saloons, restaurants, +boarding-houses, gambling-houses, dance-halls +and shops. Nearer the station and fronting +on the open square, there were barber-shops +and so-called hotels. Up and down the side +streets he saw livery-stables and roughly built +warehouses for contractors’ supplies, army supplies, +and stage-line depots.</p> +<p>The main street was alive with strange-looking +frontiersmen, trappers, hunters, scouts, soldiers, +settlers, railroad laborers, outlaws, prospectors, +and miners. Every face that Bucks looked into +presented a study. They were sometimes faces +bronzed with the clear, dry sunshine of the plains +and mountains, rugged with adventure and keen +with dangers met and passed, but others were furrowed +with dissipation and seamed with vice, or +merely vacant with the curiosity of the wanderer.</p> +<p>Nearly every man carried a fire-arm of some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +sort. Indians were a continual menace upon the +frontier to the north and west and on the front +where the road was being built; and in the train-service +and construction work railroad men usually +went armed. Moreover, when the frontiersmen +were not arming against the Indians they +were arming against one another; it being difficult +at times to tell whether the white men or +the savages were the more dangerous to the +peaceful pursuit of happiness. As Bucks, returning +down Front Street, neared the square that +opened before the station a group of army +officers were walking across it. They were the +first regular officers he had ever seen and he +regarded them with interest. At the station the +chief despatcher, Baxter, met him at the door. +“Bucks, I’ve been waiting for you. Can you +ride a horse?”</p> +<p>Bucks smiled.</p> +<p>“Colonel Stanley,” continued Baxter, “is going +to the front to-night. He wants to take an operator +with him. Giddings isn’t well enough to go, +but he can take your key to-night; you can go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +with the colonel instead. He will take Dancing +and a detail of cavalrymen with Leon Sublette +and Bob Scott for guides.”</p> +<p>The suddenness of the call was not unpleasant. +It was such continual excitement and new adventure +that Bucks liked and he said he was ready. +The despatcher told him to hunt up Bill Dancing, +who would give him the details.</p> +<p>Within an hour the cavalry horses were being +loaded into a box-car up at the stock chute, and +while Bucks and big Bill Dancing watched them +an engine and the chief engineer’s car were backed +down the yard to make up the special train. At +the same moment, the two saw Stanley walking +across the yard with two engineers who were +going to the front with him.</p> +<p>Bucks looked with admiration at the soldier-constructionist. +He was slight in figure, wore the +precise-looking military cap, and was dressed with +extreme care. He stepped with a light briskness +that implied an abundance of native energy, and +his manner as he greeted the two railroad men +was intimate and gracious, putting them at once +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +at their ease. His smooth-shaven face, bronzed +with service, and his brown eyes, were alive +every moment. Whatever the enterprise, Stanley +could call forth the loyalty and the best in those +under him, and in Dancing and Scott he had two +men that worked well together and had in their +chief the unquestioning faith that insures devotion.</p> +<p>To these two more experienced men was now +to be added a third, Bucks. The train started +almost at once, and Oliver, the colonel’s cook, +prepared supper in his box-like kitchen and +chopped his potatoes, for frying, in muffled ragtime, +as the puffing engine slowly drew the train +up the long gorge into the mountains. Bucks sat +down at table with the engineers and Stanley +asked him many questions. He wanted to know +where Bucks had gone to school, why he had +quitted at fifteen, and what had brought him +away out on the Desert to begin railroading.</p> +<p>When it appeared that Stanley as well as he +himself was from Pittsburgh, and even that Bucks +had been named after the distinguished officer––John +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +Stanley Bucks––Bucks was happier than at +any time since he had left home.</p> +<p>The talk went on till very late. Stanley and +General Park, who also had been a regular-army +man, told stories of the Civil War, just then ended, +and the giant lineman, Dancing, entertained the +company with stories of adventure incurred in +the mountains and on the plains in building the +first transcontinental telegraph line.</p> +<p>Bucks sat for hours in silence while the three +men talked; but he had good ears and was a close +listener. All the adventure books of his boyhood +reading had been bound up with this very country +and with these rugged mountains through +which they were riding. The tales of the +people all about him during his youth had been +of the far and mysterious West––of the overland +trail and the gold seekers, of Pike’s Peak and +California, of buffaloes and trappers and Indians, +and of the Mormons and the Great Salt Lake. +These had been his day-dreams, and at last he +was breathing the very air of them and listening +to men who had actually lived them.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></div> +<p>The sleeping-bunks in the car could hardly +be called berths, but they served to lessen the +fatigues of the night, and when Bucks woke in +the morning he saw from his window a vast +stretch of rough, desert country bordered by distant +mountain peaks, some black, some brown, +some snow-capped in the morning sun. The train +stopped in a construction camp, near the end +of the rails, and after a hasty breakfast Bucks +walked with the engineers up the track to the +head-quarters of the rail-laying gang.</p> +<p>The air was frosty. During the night snow had +fallen, and as Bucks followed his party the sun +burst over the plain that they had crossed in the +night and lighted the busy camp with a flood of +gold. It was a camp such as few American boys +had ever seen and of a type that no boy will ever +see again. Everywhere along the cuts and hillsides +and in sheltered spots the men had made +temporary quarters by burrowing into the clay or +soft rock and making dugouts and canvas-roofed +huts, with earthen sides for walls.</p> +<p>But not all were so enterprising as this. Some +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +laborers were camping in old hogsheads. Even +packing-boxes served others for shelter, but were +all so disposed within the cuts and among the +ridges of the railroad grade as to be safe from Indian +forays. And along the completed railroad, all +the way from the Missouri River, material and +supply trains were moving to supply this noisy, +helter-skelter camp, which seemed to Bucks all +confusion, yet was in reality all energy.</p> +<p>General Jack Casement, in charge, came forward +to greet Stanley.</p> +<p>“And they tell me, general,” said Stanley, “you +are laying a mile a day.”</p> +<p>“If you would give us the ties, colonel,” returned +Casement, short-bearded and energetic, +“we should be laying two miles a day.”</p> +<p>“I have turned the Missouri River country upside +down for timber,” returned Stanley. “The +trouble is to get the material forward over a +single track so many hundred miles. However, +we shall be getting ties down the Spider Water +within two weeks. I am on my way up there +now to see what the contractors are doing.”</p> +<p>It was the first intimation Bucks had had as to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +the object of the trip. Casement had a number +of subjects to lay before his superior while within +consulting distance, and Bob Scott, an hour later, +announced that Stanley would not move on for +two days. This left his attendants free, and when +Scott, low-voiced and good-natured, asked Bucks +if he wanted to go out on the Sweet Grass Plains +with him after an antelope, Bucks accepted +eagerly. The two saddled horses and Bucks, +with a rifle borrowed from Sublette, followed +Scott across a low-lying range of hills broken by +huge stone crags and studded with wind-blown +and stunted cedars, out upon the far-reaching +expanse of an open plain. The scene was inspiring, +but impressions crowded so fast one +upon another that the boy from the Alleghanies +could realize only that he was filled with sensations +of delight as his wiry buckskin clattered +furiously along the faint trail that carried him +and his guide to the north and west. The sun +was high when Scott reined up and, dismounting, +tethered his horse in a glade hidden by a grove of +aspens and bade Bucks do the same.</p> +<p>“Getting hungry?” asked Scott, smiling at his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +companion. An answer was written pretty plainly +on Bucks’s face.</p> +<p>“Didn’t bring anything to eat, did you?” suggested +Scott.</p> +<p>Bucks looked blank. “I never thought of it,” +he exclaimed. “Did you bring anything?”</p> +<p>“Nothing but this,” answered Scott, holding up +a small buckskin sack fitted with drawing strings.</p> +<p>“What is that, Bob?”</p> +<p>“It is what I carry wherever I ride. I carry +nothing else. And it is only a little bag of salt.”</p> +<p>“A bag of salt!” cried Bucks. “Do you eat +salt?”</p> +<p>“Wait and see,” answered the scout. “Pull +your belt up a notch. We’ve got a little walking +to do.”</p> +<p>Scott, though of Chippewa blood, had been captured +when a boy by the Sioux and, adopted into +the tribe, had lived with them for years. He knew +the mountains better than any man that served +Stanley, and the latter trusted him implicitly––nor +was the confidence ever betrayed.</p> +<p>Walking rapidly over a low-lying divide beyond +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +which lay a broad valley marking the course +of a shallow creek, Scott paused behind a clump +of cedars to scan the country. He expected to +find antelope along the creek, but could see none +in any direction. Half a mile more of scouting +explained the absence of game, and Scott pointed +out to Bucks the trail of an Indian hunting party +that had passed up the valley in the morning. +They were Cheyennes, Scott told his companion, +three warriors and two squaws––reading the information +from signs that were as plain to him +as print––though Bucks understood nothing of it. +In the circumstances there was nothing for it but +a fresh venture, and, remounting, the Indian led +the boy ten miles farther north to where the +plains stretched in a succession of magnificent +plateaus, toward the Sleepy Cat Mountains.</p> +<p>“We are in real Sioux country now,” observed +Scott, as he again dismounted. “And we are as +likely now to uncover a war party as a herd of +antelope.”</p> +<p>“What should you do, Bob, if we met Sioux?”</p> +<p>“Run,” smiled Bob, with Indian terseness. Yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +somehow the boy felt that Bob, in spite of what he +said, would not run, and he realized for a moment +the apprehension of one but newly arrived on the +frontier, and still subject to tremors for his scalp. +The scout took his stand near a thicket of quaking +asp and almost at once sighted a band of antelope. +Taking Bucks, he worked around the wind +toward the band, and directed him how and when +to shoot if he got a chance. Bucks, highly wrought +up after the long crawl to get within range, did +get a chance, and with his heart beating like a +trip-hammer, covered a buck and fired. The scout +shot immediately afterward, and the herd broke +swiftly for the timber along the creek. But Bucks, +as well as his experienced companion, had brought +down an antelope.</p> +<p>Scott, as he joined his companion, looked at him +with curiosity. “Where did you learn to shoot?”</p> +<p>“I couldn’t do it again, Bob,” exclaimed Bucks +frankly. “The only shooting I’ve ever done is +rabbit-shooting, or squirrel-shooting. I was lucky +for once, that’s all.”</p> +<p>“I hope your luck stays with us. If it does +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +we may get back with all of our hair,” returned +Scott. “The thing to do now is to lose +no time in leaving here. We are farther from +camp than we ought to be. When I get to running +antelope I am apt to go as far as they do.”</p> +<p>The two hunters got the carcasses across their +horses, and acting on Scott’s admonition started +to cover a good bit of the distance toward camp +before stopping.</p> +<p>The sun was already low in the west and Bucks +realized that they had been out all day. The +hunters rode due southeast, to put every mile +possible between them and the Indian country +before dark. They were riding along in this manner +at dusk, when Scott, leading, pointed to a +canyon that offered a hiding-place for the night, +and directed his horse into it. Scarcely had the +two passed within the canyon walls when Scott +halted and, with a quick, low command to the +boy, sprang from his horse. Bucks lost no time +in following suit: they had ridden almost into an +Indian camp, and when Bucks’s feet touched the +ground Scott was covering with his rifle a Sioux +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +brave who with two squaws rose out of the darkness +before him. Quick words passed between +Scott and the Indian in the Sioux tongue. Bucks’s +hair rose on end until the confab quieted, and +the scout’s rifle came down. In an instant it was +all over, but in that instant the Easterner had +lived years.</p> +<p>“It is all right,” said Bob, turning to reassure +his charge. “He is a young chief––Iron Hand. +I know his father. These three are alone. Eight +of them went out after buffalo five days ago. The +second day they fell in with Turkey Leg and a +Cheyenne war party. Two of Iron Hand’s warriors +were killed. The rest got separated and +these three lost their horses. Iron Hand,” Scott +nodded toward the silent Indian, “was hit in the +arm, and with his squaw and her sister has been +trying to get north, hiding by day and travelling +by night. He can’t shoot his rifle; he thinks his +arm is broken; and the squaws haven’t been able +to kill anything. They are hungry, I guess.”</p> +<p>“And did they tell you all this in those few +words?” demanded Bucks incredulously.</p> +<p>“It doesn’t take many words to tell stories in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +this country. If a man talked much he would +be dead and buried before he got through.”</p> +<p>“Bob, if they are hungry, give them some antelope.”</p> +<p>Scott, who had meant to suggest the same thing, +was pleased that the offer should come from his +companion, and so told the wounded Indian. The +latter drew himself up with dignity and spoke a +few rapid words. “He says he is glad,” translated +Bob, “that your heart is big. And that it will be +safer to go farther into the canyon. The Cheyennes +are hunting for them all around here, and if +you are not afraid to camp with the Sioux, we +will stay with them here to-night. While the +Cheyennes are hunting them, they might find us. +It will be about the safest thing we can do.”</p> +<p>“You know best,” said his companion. “Can +you trust this man?”</p> +<p>“Trust him?” echoed Bob mildly. “I wish I +could trust the word of a white man half as far +as I can that of a Sioux. He understands everything +you say.”</p> +<p>“Can he talk English?” asked Bucks in surprise.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span></div> +<p>“Better than I can.”</p> +<p>It was with queer sensations that Bucks found +himself in a hostile country and with the deadliest +enemies of the white man going into camp for +the night. Within a minute or two after Scott +and the wounded brave had picked a defended +camp near a rivulet of water, the two squaws had +a fire going, and they set to work at once dressing +an antelope.</p> +<p>Savory morsels were cut from choice spots on +the carcasses and these were broiled by impaling +them on long sticks over the fire. Bucks, learning +very fast with his eyes, saw how surprisingly +small an affair an Indian camp-fire is, and how +much could be done with a few buffalo chips, if +one understood how to keep them renewed. Both +safety and convenience were served by the tiny +blaze, and meat never tasted as good to Bucks as +it did on that clear, frosty night, broiled by the +two women and garnished from Bob Scott’s provident +salt bag.</p> +<p>After satisfying his ravenous hunger, which the +Indians considered not even a fair appetite, Bucks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +asked to look at the warrior’s injured arm, explaining +that his father had been an army surgeon +in the great white man’s war, as Bob Scott +designated the Civil War in translating for the +Sioux. The arm, which was badly swollen, he +found had indeed been broken by a bullet near +the wrist, but only one bone was fractured, and, +finding no trace of the bullet, the confident young +surgeon offered to set the fracture.</p> +<p>Iron Hand, nothing loath, accepted the offer, +and after cleansing the wound as well as it could +be cleansed in running water hard by, Bucks took +the rough splints handily supplied by Scott’s hunting-knife, +and pulling the bone into place with +the scout’s aid––though the brave winced a little +at the crude surgery––he soon had the forearm +set and was rewarded with a single guttural, +“Wa-sha-ta-la!” from the stalwart warrior, which, +Bob explained, meant, “Heap good.”</p> +<p>Sitting afterward by the camp-fire, Scott and +Iron Hand, since the young chief would not talk +English, conversed in the Sioux tongue, the +scout translating freely for his younger companion, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +while the squaws dressed the second +antelope and cut it up for convenience in carrying +on the horses to Casement’s camp. Scott +reserved only the hind-quarters of each animal +for himself and Bucks, giving the rest to their +hosts.</p> +<p>When it was late, Scott showed the boy how to +pillow his head on his saddle and then stretched +himself out to sleep. Bucks lay a long time looking +up at the stars. When he fell asleep, he woke +again very soon. His companion was sleeping +peacefully beside him, and he saw Iron Hand +sitting by the fire. Bucks easily imagined his +arm would keep him awake. The squaws were +still broiling pieces of antelope over the little +blaze, which was neither bigger nor smaller than +before, and together with the chief they were +still eating. Bucks slumbered and woke again +and again during the night, but always to see +the same thing––the three Indians sitting about +the fire, broiling and eating the welcome and +wholly unexpected venison.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IV' id='CHAPTER_IV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +</div> +<p>Before daybreak the scout roused his companion, +and, after breakfast with the three Sioux, +who, according to Bob, were still eating supper, +the two hunters left their chance companions in +the canyon, rode rapidly south, and, with their +antelope haunches as trophies, reached Casement’s +camp about ten o’clock.</p> +<p>Stanley, who was conferring with Casement, +came out of the tent greatly amazed at his scout’s +venturing so far on a hunt as to expose himself +and his companion to danger.</p> +<p>“We were safe every minute, colonel,” declared +Scott.</p> +<p>“Safe?” echoed Stanley incredulously. “No +man is safe, Bob, a mile from the track-layers. +The Sioux killed and scalped one of our engineers +not ten miles from here, when we were running +this very line last winter.”</p> +<p>“This lad,” nodded Scott, “is as good a shot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +as I am. He brought down the first antelope. +We get along with the Sioux all right, too, don’t +we, Bucks?” he demanded, appealing to his fellow-hunter. +“We ate supper with them last night,” +he added to mystify his listeners, “and camped +with Iron Hand.”</p> +<p>Even General Casement stared at this and +waited to hear Scott tell Stanley the story of +their night’s adventure. “However, colonel,” +concluded Scott, “there is a war party of Cheyennes +near here. It is a good time to be careful.”</p> +<p>“All right, Bob,” retorted Stanley, looking at +his scout keenly, though no one could be angry +at Scott long. “You set the example.”</p> +<p>The words were hardly out of his mouth +when an operator came running down the track +from the telegraph tent with a message for +General Casement. It contained word from the +operator at Peace River that section men reported +a war party of Indians, crossing the railroad near +Feather Creek, had attacked an emigrant party +camped there.</p> +<p>In an instant the whole construction camp had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +the news and the work was thrown into confusion. +Feather Creek was twenty miles away. Orders +flew fast. A special train was made up, and +Stanley taking command, with Casement to aid, +made ready instantly to leave for the scene of +the disaster.</p> +<p>The men running from the grade fell into line +like veteran soldiers. Indeed, most of them had +seen service in the war just closed and the smell +of powder was no novelty. Bob Scott turned the +venison over to Oliver and loaded his horse in +the car with those of the cavalrymen. Under +Stanley’s orders he himself rode as pilot in the +cab with the engine crew. Bucks also reported to +Stanley, and within twenty minutes the relief train +carrying two hundred men was plunging down +the long hill toward Feather Creek. Heads were +craned out of the car windows, and in rounding +every curve Bucks, with the scout Leon Sublette, +sitting greatly wrought up behind Stanley and +Casement, expected momentarily to see Cheyenne +war bonnets spring up out of the stunted cedars +that lined the hills along the right of way.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></div> +<p>But not a sign could be seen of any living +thing. The train reached Feather Creek, and +slowly crossed the bridge before Scott signalled +the engineman to stop. His eye had detected the +scene of the fight, and the ground beyond––a low +cut––was favorable for getting the men safely out +of the cars.</p> +<p>As the engine slowed, a little scene of desolation +beside the right of way met Bucks’s eye, +and he caught sight of the ghastly battle-field. +A frightened section crew emerged from the wild-plum +thickets along the creek bottom, as the +cavalrymen, followed by Casement’s armed men, +poured out of the three cars. Stanley with his +scouts led the way to the emigrant camp, where +the fight had taken place. The wagons had been +burned, the horses run off, and the three unfortunate +men butchered.</p> +<p>Bucks experienced a shock when Scott came +upon the three dead men whose mutilated bodies +had been dragged from the scene by the section +men and who lay with covered faces side by side +under a little plum-tree, fragrant with blossoms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +and alive with the hum of bees. The sunshine +and the beauty of the spot contrasted strangely +with the revolting spectacle upon the grass.</p> +<p>Stanley gave the orders by which the bodies +were conveyed to the train and with the scouts +and cavalrymen reconnoitering the surrounding +country, Casement’s men lay on their arms in +the shade of the cut. Dancing rigged a pony instrument +to the telegraph wires, which had not +been disturbed, and Bucks transmitted messages +to Fort Kearney advising the commanding officer +of the murders and adding afterward the report +of Scott and Sublette as to the direction the +marauders had taken in flight.</p> +<p>“Who were the beasts, Bob, that could treat +men like that?” demanded Bucks in an angry +undertone, when he had clicked the messages over +the wires.</p> +<p>“Bad Indians,” answered Scott sententiously. +“You have that kind of white men, don’t you? +These fellows are probably Turkey Leg’s thieving +Cheyennes. We shall hear more of them.”</p> +<p>In the meantime the scouts and the cavalry +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +detail rode out again trying to unmask the Cheyennes, +but without success. It was a week before +they were even heard of, and after an all-day +attempt to do something, the train backed up to +camp and work was resumed as if nothing had +happened.</p> +<p>After waiting a few days, Stanley, always +restive under idleness, determined to push on +across the Sweet Grass country with horses, to +learn how the timber cutters on the river were +faring with their slender military guard. The +party, consisting of the detail of ten men and the +two scouts and Bucks, started one morning at +sunrise and made their way without molestation +into the little-known mountain range called then, +as far south as Colorado, the Black Hills.</p> +<p>Stanley explained to Bucks during the morning +how the chief engineering difficulty of the +whole transcontinental line confronted the engineers +right where they were now riding. Here +the mountains were thrown abruptly above the +plain to a great height and the locating engineers +were still at their wits’ ends to know how to climb +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +the tremendous ascent with practicable grades. +Stanley became so interested in studying the +country during the day, as the difficulties of the +problem presented themselves afresh to him, that +the party made slow progress. Camp was pitched +early in the afternoon under a ridge that offered +some natural features for defence. Here the cavalrymen +were left, and Stanley, taking Scott, started +out after some venison for supper. Bucks stood by, +looking eager as the two made ready for the hunt.</p> +<p>“Come along if you like,” said Stanley at length. +“You won’t be happy, Bucks, till you get lost +somewhere in this country.”</p> +<p>Sublette lent Bucks a rifle, and the three men +set out together, riding rapidly into the rough +hills to the northwest. Scott covered the ground +fast, but he searched in vain for sign of antelope. +“Indians have been all over this divide,” he announced +after much hard riding and a failure to +find any game. “It doesn’t look like venison for +supper to-night, colonel. Stop!” he added suddenly.</p> +<p>His companions, surprised by the tone of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +last word, halted. Leaning over his pony’s neck +the scout was reading the rocky soil. He dismounted, +and walking on, leading his horse, he +inspected, very carefully, the ground toward a +dry creek bed opening to the east.</p> +<p>He was gone perhaps five minutes. “Colonel,” +he said, smiling reassuringly, when he returned, +“this is no place for us.”</p> +<p>“Indians,” said Stanley tersely.</p> +<p>“Cheyennes. Back to camp.”</p> +<p>“Down the creek?” suggested Stanley.</p> +<p>“The bottom is alive with Indians.”</p> +<p>“Up then, Bob?”</p> +<p>“Their camp is just above the bend. They +have spotted our trail, too, somehow. It may +be they are riding easy to close in on us,” smiled +Scott, while Bucks’s hair began to pull. “Our +way out is over this divide.” He indicated the +rough country east of the creek as he spoke.</p> +<p>“Divide!” exclaimed Stanley, looking up at the +practically sheer walls of rock that hedged the +course of the creek. “We can’t climb those hills, +if we never get out.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span></div> +<p>“They’re not quite so bad as they look. Anyway, +colonel, we’ve got to.”</p> +<p>“They can pick us off our horses like monkeys +all the way up!”</p> +<p>“It’s a chance for our scalps, colonel. And it +will be as hard riding for them as it is for us.”</p> +<p>Stanley looked at Bucks with perplexity. “This +boy!”</p> +<p>“I can make it, Colonel Stanley,” exclaimed +Bucks, who felt he must say something.</p> +<p>Stanley still hesitated.</p> +<p>“We’ve no time to lose,” smiled Scott significantly.</p> +<p>“Then go ahead, Bob.”</p> +<p>They had half a mile of comparatively level +ground to cross before they began their climb, +and this strip they rode very hard. When they +reached the hills, Scott headed for a forbidding-looking +canyon and urged his horse without ceasing +through the rocky wash that strewed its floor. +Stanley, with an excellent mount, could have kept +well up, but he had put Bucks ahead of him in +the safe place of the little procession, and the boy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +had difficulty in keeping within call of their active +leader. The minute they were out of sight +of the creek bottoms, Scott, choosing an apparently +unscalable ascent, urged his horse up one of +the canyon walls and the three were soon climbing +in order.</p> +<p>Happily, Bucks’s scrub horse gave a better account +of himself in climbing than he had done in +covering better ground. As their horses stumbled +hurriedly along the narrow ledges, they made noise +enough to wake the Indian dead and the loose +rock tumbled with sinister echoes down the canyon +wall. But progress was made, and the white +men felt only anxious lest pursuit should catch +them exposed on the uncovered height up which +they were fast clambering.</p> +<p>Secure in their escape, the three were nearing +the coveted top when a yell echoed through the +canyon from below. There was no mistaking +such a yell. Bucks, who had never heard anything +so ferocious, had no need to be told what it was––it, +so to say, introduced itself. And it was answered +by another yell, more formidable still, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +again by a chorus of yells. Then it seemed to +Bucks’s unaccustomed ears as if a thousand +lusty throats were opened, and scared rigid he +looked behind him and saw the canyon below +alive with warriors.</p> +<p>They were riding helter-skelter to reach a range +where they could pick the fugitives off the crest +of the canyon side. Within a minute, almost, +their rifles were cracking. Scott had already +reached a point of concealment, and above the +heads of Bucks and Stanley fired his rifle in +answer. An Indian brave, riding furiously to a +rock that would have commanded Stanley and +Bucks as they urged their horses on, started in his +saddle as Scott fired and clutched his side instantly +with his rifle hand. His pony bolted as +the half-hitch of the rawhide thong on its lower +jaw was loosened and the rider, toppling, fell +heavily backward to the ground. The riderless +horse dashed on. The yelling Indians had had +their blunt warning and now scurried for cover. +The interval, short as it was, gave Bucks and +Stanley a chance.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></div> +<p>Spurring relentlessly and crouching low on their +horses’ necks, they made a dash across the exposed +wall of rock near the top, that lay between them +and safety. A renewed yell echoed the rage and +chagrin of their pursuers, and a quick fire of scattering +shots followed their rapid flight, but the +Indians were confused, and Bucks, followed by his +soldier champion, flung himself from his saddle in +the clump of cedars behind which Scott, safely +hidden, was reloading his rifle. Choosing his opportunity +carefully, Stanley fired at once at an +exposed brave and succeeded in disabling him. +Bucks was forbidden to shoot and told to hold +his rifle, if it were needed, in readiness for his companions. +With the bullets cutting the twigs above +their heads, Stanley and Scott held a council of +war. Scott insisted on remaining behind to check +their pursuers where they were, while the two with +him rode on to safety.</p> +<p>“I can hold this bunch, colonel,” declared Scott +briefly. “There may not be a second chance as +good. Get on with the boy before another party +cuts you off. They can cross below us and save +two or three miles. Get away.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></div> +<p>“But how will you get away?” demanded Bucks.</p> +<p>Stanley laughed. “Never mind Bob. He +could crawl through a Cheyenne village with a +camp-fire on his back. It’s what to do with you, +Bucks, that bothers us.”</p> +<p>“Just you get on, colonel,” urged Bob. “I’ll +manage all right. Leave your horse,” he added, +turning to Bucks, “and you take mine.”</p> +<p>Bucks protested and refused to leave Scott with +an inferior mount, but his protests were of no +avail. He was curtly directed by Stanley to do as +he was told, and unwillingly he turned his horse +over to Scott and took the scout’s better steed. +Scott added hurried and explicit directions to +Stanley as to the course to follow back to camp, +and without loss of time Stanley and Bucks +crouching behind friendly rocks led their horses +up the inner canyon wall and, remounting at the +top, galloped hurriedly down a long ridge.</p> +<p>At intervals, shots from the Indians reached +their ears, and long-drawn yells, followed by the +sharper crack of Scott’s rifle, echoed from the +west as the scout held the wall against the enemy. +Bucks did not understand the real danger that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +the scout feared for his party. It was that +other parties of the marauding Cheyennes might, +by following the creek, gain the divide in time to +cut off the railroad men from their line of escape. +The sounds of the stubborn contest behind them +died away as their straining horses gradually +put miles between them and the enemy. The +fugitives had reached the summit of the hills and +with a feeling of safety were easing their pace +when Bucks discerned, almost directly ahead of +them, dark objects moving slowly along the foot +of a wooded hill. The two men halted.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_V' id='CHAPTER_V'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +</div> +<p>“Indians,” announced Stanley after a brief +moment of inspection.</p> +<p>“We are cut off,” he added, looking alertly over +the landscape about them. “This way, Bucks. +Ride as low as you can.” Without further +words he made an abrupt turn to the right, +striking south to get behind a friendly butte +that rose half a mile away.</p> +<p>“The question now is,” said Stanley, as they +held their horses up a little after getting somewhat +farther out of sight, “whether they have +likewise seen us.”</p> +<p>The harried pair were not long in doubt. They +had hardly changed their course when there was +immediate activity on the hill-side. The railroad +men spurred on; the distant horsemen, now on +their flank, dashed out upon the broad slope that +lay between the two parties and rode straight +and hard after the fleeing men. Stanley steadied +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +his inexperienced companion as the latter urged +his horse. “Not too hard just now. Your pony +will need all his wind. It’s a question of getting +away with our scalps and we must be careful. +Follow me.”</p> +<p>Bucks’s heart, as he looked back, crowded up into +his throat. A long skirmish line of warriors had +spread across the unbroken plateau to the east, +and Stanley, with nothing but instinct for a guide, +was making at top speed to the south to get away +from them.</p> +<p>As the two dashed on, they found to their consternation +that the country was growing smoother +and affording fewer hiding-places from the sharp +eyes behind them. Stanley knew they must either +ride through the hills ahead or perish. He sought +vainly for some break in the great black wall of +low-lying mountains toward which they were riding, +yet from what he knew of the country he +hardly dared hope for one.</p> +<p>He had reconnoitred these hills time after time +when running the railroad lines and knew pretty +well where he was. The pursuers, too, apparently +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +sure of their prey, rode hard, gradually lessening +the distance that separated them from the wary +soldier and his companion. The Indians had +ceased yelling now. It was beyond that. But +even in his excitement and fear the inexperienced +boy could not but admire the composure and +daring of his companion.</p> +<p>As Stanley glanced now and again back at his +enraged enemies he was every inch a soldier. And +he watched the distance between the Cheyennes +and himself as coolly as if calculating a mere problem +in geometry. While saving every possible +breath for his horses, he yet managed to keep the +Cheyennes at a distance. The Indians, bent on +overhauling the fleeing men before they could +reach even the scant protection of the scattered +timber they were now approaching, redoubled +their efforts to cut off the escape.</p> +<p>Forced by the desperation of his circumstances, +Stanley bent more and more to the west of south, +even though in doing so he seemed to be getting +into a more hopeless country. The veteran campaigner +eyed Bucks’s horse carefully as he turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +in his saddle, but Scott’s wiry beast appeared +quite fresh, and Stanley, turning his eyes, again +swept the horizon for a friendly break in the black +walls ahead. As he did so he was startled to +see, directly in front, Indians riding at full speed +out of the hills he was heading for. He reined his +galloping horse and turned straight into the west.</p> +<p>“Bucks,” he exclaimed, looking with concern +at the rider now by his side, “it’s a case of +obey orders now. If I stop at any time, you ride +straight on––do you understand? You’ve got a +revolver?” Bucks tapped the big Colt at his +side. “Don’t let them take you alive. And hold +your last shot till a buck rides in for your scalp.”</p> +<p>The straining horses seemed to understand the +sharp words that passed from saddle to saddle. +The Indians were already within gunshot, but +too sure of their game to lose any time in +shooting; nor was Stanley willing to waste a shot +upon them. As he dodged in between a broken +wall of granite and a scrubby clump of cedars, +closely followed by Bucks, their pursuers could +have picked either man from his saddle.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></div> +<p>Stanley had no longer any fixed purpose of +escape. He meant merely to dismount when he +could ride no farther and sell his life as best he +could, while Bucks took such further chance of +escape as his companion’s last stand might afford. +The hard-driven fighter was even looking for a +well-placed rock to drop behind, when the horse +plunging under him lurched to one side of the +cedars and a gulf in the walls suddenly opened +before his surprised rider.</p> +<p>A rotten ledge of burned granite seemed to +head a mountain wash directly in their path. +There was a sheer drop of twenty feet to the crumbling +slope of disintegrated stone under the head of +the draw itself, but Stanley, without looking back, +never hesitated. Urging his panting horse, he +made a flying leap down into space, and horse and +rider landed knee-deep in the soft, gravelly granite +below them.</p> +<p>Bucks’s mustang shied on the brink. He spurred +him excitedly, and the trembling beast, nerving himself, +leaped far out over the ledge, following Stanley +so closely that he almost struck him with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +hoofs as he went flying over the engineer’s head. +Bucks rolled headlong as his horse plunged into +the loose débris. He scrambled to his feet and, +spitting the gravel from between his bruised lips, +caught the bridle of his horse as the latter righted +himself.</p> +<p>No legs were broken and much was already +gained.</p> +<p>“Quick!” cried Stanley. “Ride for your life!” +he shouted as Bucks regained his saddle. The +two spurred at the same time and dashed down +the draw at breakneck speed just as the Indians +yelling on the brink of the ledge stopped to pour +a volley after the desperate men. Unable to land +an effective shot, the Cheyennes, nothing daunted, +and hesitating only a moment, plunged over the +precipice after their quarry.</p> +<p>But they had lost their great advantage. +The dry watercourse proved unexpectedly good +riding for the fleeing railroad men. It was a +downhill run, with their hopes rising every moment. +Moreover, the draw soon turned sharply +to the south and put a big shoulder of granite +between the pursuers and the pursued. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +horses of the latter were now relieved, and the +wary Stanley, riding with some reserve speed, +held his rifle ready for a stern shot should one +become necessary. He found himself riding between +two almost perpendicular walls washed +by the same granite gravel into which they had +plunged on the start, but with the course again +turning, to his surprise, to the east. Once, Stanley +checked the flight long enough to stop and listen, +but the two heard the active Indians clattering +down the canyon after them, and rode on and +on.</p> +<p>As they could see by the lengthening shadow +on the mountain-sides far above them, the sun +was setting.</p> +<p>“Cheer up,” cried Stanley, who had put his +companion ahead of him. “We’ve got the best +of them. All we need is open country.”</p> +<p>He did not mention the chances of disaster, +which were that they might encounter an obstacle +that would leave them at bay before their tireless +pursuers. Mile after mile they galloped without +halting again to see whether they were being +chased. Indeed, no distance seemed too considerable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +to put between them and the active war-paint +in the saddles behind.</p> +<p>A new turn in the canyon now revealed a wide +valley opening between the hills before them. Far +below, golden in the light of the setting sun, they +saw the great eastern slope of the Black Hills +spreading out upon a beautiful plain.</p> +<p>Stanley swung his hat from his head with an +exulting cry, and Bucks, without quite understanding +why, but assuming it the right thing to do, +yelled his loudest. On and on they rode, down +a broad, spreading ridge that led without a break +from the tortuous hills behind them into the +open country far below. Stanley put full ten +miles between himself and the canyon they had +ridden out of before he checked his speed. The +Indians had completely disappeared and, disappointed +in their venture, had no doubt ridden +back to their fastnesses to wait for other unwary +white men. Stanley chose a little draw +with good water and grass, and night was just +falling as they picketed their exhausted horses and +stretched themselves, utterly used up, on the grass.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></div> +<p>“We are safe until morning, anyway,” announced +Stanley as he threw himself down. “And +this Indian chase may be the luckiest thing that +has ever happened to me in the troublesome course +of an unlucky life.</p> +<p>“You don’t understand,” continued the engineer, +wiping the sweat and dust from his tired +face. Bucks admitted that he did not.</p> +<p>“No matter,” returned his companion; “it isn’t +necessary now. You will sometime. But I think +I have done in the last hour something I have +been trying to do for years. Many others have +likewise failed in the same quest.”</p> +<p>Bucks listened with growing interest.</p> +<p>“Yes, for years,” Stanley went on, “incredible +as it may sound, I have been searching these +mountains for just such a crevice as we have +this moment ridden down. You see how this +range”––the exhausted engineer stretched flat on +his back, but, with burning eyes, pointed to the +formidable mountain wall that rose behind them +in the dusk of the western sky––“rises abruptly +from the plains below. Our whole grade climb +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +for the continental divide is right here, packed +into these few miles. Neither I nor any one else +has ever been able to find such a pass as we need +to get up into it. But if we have saved our +scalps, my boy, you will share with me the honor +of finding the pass for the Union Pacific Railroad +over the Rocky Mountains.”</p> +<p>They were supperless, but it was very exciting, +and Bucks was extremely happy. Stanley +watched that night until twelve. When he woke +Bucks the moon was rising and the ghostly peaks +in the west towered sentinel-like above the plains +flooded with silver. The two were to move at +one o’clock when the moon would be high enough +to make riding safe. It was cold, but fire was +forbidden.</p> +<p>The horses were grazing quietly, and Bucks, examining +his revolver, which he had all the time +felt he was wretchedly incompetent to shoot, sat +down beside Stanley, already fast asleep, to stand +his watch. He had lost Sublette’s rifle in falling +into the wash-out. At least he had found no leisure +to pick it up and save his hair in the same instant, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span> +and he wondered now how much he should +have to pay for the rifle.</p> +<p>When the sun rose next morning the two horsemen +were far out of the foot-hills and bearing +northeast toward camp––so far had their ride for +life taken them from their hunting ground. They +scanned the horizon at intervals, with some anxiety, +for Indians, and again with the hope of +sighting their missing guide. Once they saw a +distant herd of buffalo, and Bucks experienced a +shock until assured by Stanley that the suspicious +objects were neither Cheyennes nor Sioux.</p> +<p>By nine o’clock they had found the transcontinental +telegraph line and had a sure trail to +follow until they discovered the grade stakes of +the railroad, and soon descried the advance-guard +of the graders busy with plough and shovel and +scraper. As they rode into camp the very first +man to emerge from Casement’s tent, with his +habitual smile, was Bob Scott.</p> +<p>Casement himself, who had heard Scott’s story +when the latter had come in at daybreak, was +awaiting Stanley’s return with anxiety, but this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span> +was all forgotten in the great news Stanley +brought. Sublette and Scott now returned to the +hunting camp for the cavalry detail, and, reinforced +by these, the two heroes of the long flight rode +back to reconnoitre their escape from the mountains. +Bucks rode close to Bob Scott and learned +how the scout had outwitted his assailants at the +canyon, and how after they had all ridden out +of it, he had ridden into it and retraced with +safety in the night the path that the hunters +had followed in riding into the hill country.</p> +<p>The second ride through the long defile, which +itself was now the object of so much intense +inspection, Bucks found much less exciting than +the first. The party even rode up to where the +first flying leap had been made, and to Bucks’s +joy found Sublette’s rifle still in the wash; it +had been overlooked by the Indians.</p> +<p>What surprised Bucks most was to find how +many hours it took to cover the ground that Stanley +and he had negotiated in seemingly as many +minutes.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VI' id='CHAPTER_VI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +</div> +<p>After a week in Casement’s camp, Stanley and +his cavalrymen, accompanied by Dancing, Scott, +and Bucks, struck north and east toward the +Spider Water River to find out why the ties were +not coming down faster. Rails had already been +laid across the permanent Spider Water Bridge––known +afterward as the first bridge, for the big +river finished more than one structure before it +was completely subdued––and the rail-laying was +hampered only by the lack of ties.</p> +<p>The straggling bands of Cheyennes had in the +interval been driven out of the foot-hills by troops +sent against them, and Stanley and his little escort +met with no trouble on his rapid journey.</p> +<p>Toward evening of the second day a broad +valley opened on the plain before them, and in +the sunset Bucks saw, winding like a silver thread +far up toward the mountains, the great stream +about which he had already heard so much. Camp +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +was pitched on a high bluff that commanded the +valley in both directions for many miles, and +after supper Scott and Bucks rode down to the +river.</p> +<p>In its low-water stage nothing could have looked +more sluggish or more sleepily deceptive than the +mighty and treacherous stream. Scott and his +companions always gave the river the name the +Sioux had long ago given it because of its sudden, +ravening floods and its deadly traps laid for such +unwary men or animals as trusted its peaceful +promise and slept within reach of its cruel power.</p> +<p>Standing in the glow of the evening sky in this +land where the clear, bright light seemed to lift him +high above the earth, Bucks looked at the yellow +flood long and thoughtfully––as well he might––for +the best of his life was to be spent within +ken of its flow and to go in doing battle with it +himself, or in sending faithful men to its battling, +sometimes to perish within its merciless +currents.</p> +<p>Next morning as the party, following a trail +along the bluffs, rode up in the direction of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +contractors’ camps they discerned out on the river +bottom a motley cluster of tents and shanties +pitched under a hill. A number of flatboats +lay in the backwater behind the bend and a +quantity of ties corded along the bank indicated +a loading-place, but no one seemed to be doing +any loading. The few men that could be seen in +the distance appeared to be loafing in the sunshine +along the straggling street-way that led to +the river. Stanley checked his horse.</p> +<p>“What place is that?” he demanded of Scott.</p> +<p>“That,” returned the guide, “is Sellersville.”</p> +<p>“Sellersville,” echoed Stanley. “What is Sellersville?”</p> +<p>“Sellersville is where they bring most of the +ties for the boats.”</p> +<p>“Have they started a town down there on the +bottoms?”</p> +<p>“They have started enough saloons and gambling +dens to get the money from the men that +are chopping ties.”</p> +<p>Stanley contemplated for a moment the ill-looking +settlement. A mile farther on they encountered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +a number of men following the trail up +the river.</p> +<p>A small dog barked furiously at the Stanley +party as they came up, and acted as if he were +ready to fight every trooper in the detail. He +dashed back and forth, barking and threatening +so fiercely that every one’s attention was drawn +to him.</p> +<p>Stanley stopped the leader and found he was a +tie-camp foreman from up-river taking men to +camp. “Is that your dog?” demanded Stanley, +indicating the belligerent animal who seemed set +upon eating somebody alive.</p> +<p>“Why, yes,” admitted the foreman philosophically. +“He sort o’ claims me, I guess.”</p> +<p>“What do you keep a cur like that around for?”</p> +<p>“Can’t get rid of him,” returned the foreman. +“He is no good, but the boys like his impudence. +Down, Scuffy!” he cried, looking for a stick to +throw at his pet.</p> +<p>Bucks surveyed the company of men. They +were a sorry-looking lot. The foreman explained +that he had dragged them out of the dens at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +Sellersville to go back to work. When remonstrated +with for the poor showing the contractors +were making, the foreman pointed to the plague-spot +on the bottoms.</p> +<p>“There’s the reason you are not getting any +ties,” said he lazily. “We’ve got five hundred +men at work up here; that is, they are supposed +to be at work. These whiskey dives and faro +joints get them the minute they are paid, and for +ten days after pay-day we can’t get a hundred +men back to camp.”</p> +<p>The foreman as he spoke looked philosophically +toward the canvas shanties below. “I spend half +my time chasing back and forth, but I can’t do +much. They hold my men until they have robbed +them, and then if they show fight they chuck them +into the river. It’s the same with the flatboat +men.” He turned, as he continued, to indicate +two particularly wretched specimens. “These fellows +were drugged and robbed of every dollar they +brought here before they got to work at all.”</p> +<p>Stanley likewise gazed thoughtfully upon the +cluster of tents and shacks along the river landing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +He turned after a moment to Scott. “Bob,” said +he, looking back again toward the river, “what +gang do you suppose this is?”</p> +<p>Scott shook his head. “That I couldn’t say, +Colonel Stanley.”</p> +<p>“Suppose,” continued Stanley, still regarding +the offending settlement, “you and Dancing reconnoitre +them a little and tell me who they are. +We will wait for you.”</p> +<p>Scott and the lineman swung into their saddles +and started down the trail that led to the landing. +Stanley spoke again to the foreman. “Can +those men use an axe?” he demanded, indicating +the two men that the foreman asserted had been +robbed.</p> +<p>“They are both old choppers––but this gang at +Sellersville stole even their axes.”</p> +<p>“Leave these two men here with me,” directed +Stanley as he watched Scott and Dancing ride +down toward Sellersville. “I may have something +for them to chop after a while.”</p> +<p>The foreman assented. “I don’t like the +bunch,” he murmured; “but nobody at our camp +wants to tackle them. What can we do?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></div> +<p>While the foreman continued to talk, Stanley +again looked over the human wrecks that he +had rounded up and brought out of Sellersville. +“What can we do?” echoed Stanley, repeating +the last question tartly. “Well, I’ll tell you one +thing we can do. We can throw Sellersville into +the river.”</p> +<p>Dancing and Scott were gone half an hour. The +report, when they returned, was not encouraging. +“It is a bunch of cutthroats from Medicine +Bend, colonel,” said Bob Scott.</p> +<p>“All friends of yours, I presume, Bob,” returned +Stanley.</p> +<p>The scout only smiled. “John Rebstock is +there with his following. But the boss, I think, +is big George Seagrue. He is mean, you know. +George has got two or three men to his credit.”</p> +<p>“Are we enough to clean them out, Bob?” +inquired Stanley impatiently.</p> +<p>Scott looked around and his eye rested for a +moment on Dancing. He hitched his trousers. +“There’s about thirty men down there. I expect,” +he continued reflectively, “we can take +care of them if we have to.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></div> +<p>Stanley turned to the sergeant of his troopers. +“Pitch a permanent camp, sergeant. There will +be nothing to take us any farther up the river.”</p> +<p>As Stanley gave the order Bucks noticed that +Dancing winked at Scott. And without the meaning +glances exchanged by the lineman and the +scout, Bucks would have understood from Stanley’s +manner that he meant strong measures. +Stanley sent a further message to the contractor, +and the foreman, followed by his convoy of humanity, +started on. The soldiers, foreseeing a +lively scene, stripped their pack-horses and set +at work pitching their tents.</p> +<p>Leaving four men in camp, the engineer, accompanied +by his escort, rode down the bluffs and, +striking a lumber road, galloped rapidly through +the poplar bottom-lands toward the gamblers’ +camp. It was an early tour for human wolves +to be stirring, and the invaders clattered into Sellersville +before they attracted any attention.</p> +<p>A bugler, however, riding into the middle of +the settlement, sounded a trumpet call, and at +the unwonted notes frowsy, ill-shaped heads appeared +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +at various shanty doors and tent-flaps to +see what was doing. Stanley sent one man from +door to door to notify the inmates of each shelter +to pack up their effects and make ready to move +without delay.</p> +<p>Five troopers were detailed to guard three +gambling tents that stood together in the middle +of the camp, each of these being flanked by +smaller dens. Word was then passed to the gamblers +and saloon-keepers to line up on the river +front.</p> +<p>Stanley regarded the gathering crowd with a +cold eye. Scott, who stood near Bucks, pointed +out a square-shouldered man with a deep scar +splitting one cheek. “Do you know that fellow, +Bucks?” he asked in an undertone.</p> +<p>“No; who is he?”</p> +<p>“That is a Medicine Bend confidence man, +Perry. Do you remember the woman you helped +out with a ticket to Iowa? Perry is her husband––the +man that Dave Hawk made pay up.”</p> +<p>Perry was a type of the Sellersville crowd now +being evicted. There was much talk as the soldiers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +urged and drove the gang out of one haunt +after another and a good deal of threatening as +the leaders marched out in front of Stanley.</p> +<p>“Who is running this camp?” demanded the +officer curtly. The men looked at one another. +A fat, slow-moving man with small blue eyes and +a wheezy voice answered: “Why, no one in particular, +colonel. We’re just a-camping in a bunch. +What’s a-matter? Seagrue here,” he nodded to a +sharp-jawed companion, “and Perry,” he added, +jerking his thumb toward the scarred-faced man, +“and me own these two big tents in partners.”</p> +<p>“What’s your name?”</p> +<p>“My name’s Rebstock.”</p> +<p>“Produce the axes stolen here from these two +men,” said Stanley, indicating the choppers behind +him. There was a jangle of talk between +Rebstock and his associates, and Perry, much +against his inclination, was despatched to hunt +up the axes. It was only a moment before he +returned with them.</p> +<p>Rebstock, with a show of virtue, reprimanded +Perry severely for harboring the men that had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +stolen the axes. “Sorry it happened, colonel,” he +grumbled, after he had abused the thieves roundly +in a general way, “and I’ll see it doesn’t happen +again. We can’t watch everybody in a place +like this. Tell your men,” he continued, expanding +his chest, “to leave their axes with me when +they come to Sellersville––what?”</p> +<p>The assurances were lost on Stanley. “Rebstock,” +said he, in a tone that Bucks had not +heard before from him, “take your personal effects, +all of you––and nothing else––and load them +on a flatboat. I will give you one hour to get-out +of here.”</p> +<p>Rebstock almost fell over backward. He +wheezed in amazement. There was an outburst +of indignant protests. A dozen men clamored at +once. Perry rushed forward to threaten Stanley; +others cursed and defied him.</p> +<p>“Who are you, and what do you mean giving +orders like that?” demanded Seagrue, confronting +him angrily.</p> +<p>“No matter who I am, you will obey the orders. +And you can’t take any tents or gambling apparatus +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +or liquors. Pack up your clothes and +camp stuff––nothing else––and get out.”</p> +<p>If a bombshell had dropped into Sellersville, +consternation could not have been more complete. +But it became quickly apparent that not all of +the gang would surrender without a fight. The +leaders retreated for a hurried consultation.</p> +<p>Rebstock walked back presently and confronted +Stanley. “What’s your law for this?” he demanded, +breathless with anger.</p> +<p>Stanley pointed to the ground under their feet.</p> +<p>“What’s your title to this land, Rebstock? It +belongs to the railroad that those ties belong to. +Where is your license from the United States Government +to sell whiskey here? You are trespassers +and outlaws, with no rights that any decent man +ought to respect. You and your gang are human +parasites, and you are going to be stripped and +sent down the river as fast as these flatboats will +carry you.”</p> +<p>Without waiting for any rejoinder, Stanley +turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Rebstock +speechless. The threats against the intruders +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +continued, but Stanley paid no attention to +any of them. Scott and the five troopers faced +the gamblers. Stanley called to the two wood-choppers, +who stood near with their axes, and +pointed to the gambling tents.</p> +<p>“Chop up every wheel and table in there you +can find,” said he.</p> +<p>A cry went up from Perry when he heard +the order, but the axemen, nothing loath, sprang +inside to their work, and the crashing of the gambling +furniture resounded through the alarmed +camp. Stanley made no delay of his peremptory +purpose. The tent attacked belonged to Seagrue, +who, common report averred, feared nothing and +nobody, while the gambling implements were +Perry’s.</p> +<p>Seagrue rushed to his property, revolver in +hand. Bill Dancing, who stood at Stanley’s side, +stepped into his way.</p> +<p>“Hold on, Seagrue,” he said. The gambler, fully +as large a man as Dancing, faced his opponent +with his features fixed in rage. “Get away,” +he shouted, “or I will knock your head off.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span></div> +<p>All eyes centred on the two men. Every one +realized that open war was on and that it needed +only a spark to start the shooting. The gamblers, +rallying to Seagrue, backed him with oaths and +threats.</p> +<p>“Seagrue, put down that pistol or I’ll wring +your neck,” returned the lineman, baring his right +arm as he sauntered toward the outlaw. Bucks, +beside Stanley, stood transfixed as he watched +Dancing. The lineman’s revolver was slung in +the holster at his side.</p> +<p>Seagrue hesitated. He saw Bob Scott standing +in the doorway of the gambling tent with his rifle +lying carelessly over his arm. He was actually +covering Seagrue where he stood––and Seagrue +knew that Bob Scott was deadly with a rifle. +But Dancing was walking directly up to him and +Seagrue dared not be shamed before his own associates. +He jumped back to fire, but it was too +late.</p> +<p>Dancing caught his wrist. Both were men of +great strength, and their muscles knotted as +they grappled. It was only after a moment +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +that the lineman could be seen to gain. Then, +as he bent the gambler’s arm back, he suddenly +released it and struck the revolver out of his +hand. Seagrue, with a curse, sprang back, and +drawing a knife rushed for the second time at +the lineman. Dancing jumped to one side. As he +did so he seized an axe from the hand of one of the +choppers and turned again on Seagrue. The gambler +made a lunge at his throat, but as he threw +himself forward, Dancing, springing away, brought +the axe around like a flash and laid it flat across +his assailant’s forearm. The knife flew twenty +feet, and before the gambler could recover himself +the railroad man with one hand like a vice +on his throat bore him to the ground.</p> +<p>“Give me a piece of rope,” muttered Dancing +as Stanley ran up.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/p0092a-ins.jpg' alt='' title='' width='373' height='570' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +IT WAS ONLY AFTER A MOMENT THAT<br /> +THE LINEMAN COULD BE SEEN TO GAIN.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Bob Scott slashed a tent guy and handed it to +him. In another minute Dancing, in spite of +Seagrue’s struggles, had lashed his prisoner hand +and foot. Picking him up bodily, he walked +unopposed to the landing, and to the astonishment +of the spectators heaved Seagrue with scant +ceremony into a flatboat. There a trooper kept +him quiet. Walking back, the lineman brushed +the dust of the encounter from his arms as if +to invite any further Sellersville champion to +come forward. But John Rebstock, the really +responsible head of the place, showed no desire +to meet Dancing, and Perry, the sneak of the +trio, only ranted while Rebstock stood at a respectable +distance wheezing his surprise at the +tremendous exhibition of strength. And the work +of destruction went forward.</p> +<p>Adjoining the Seagrue tent stood a saloon in +which the men were now ordered to demolish the +stock. This renewed the excitement among Rebstock’s +followers.</p> +<p>“Don’t waste any time,” was Stanley’s order. +“They may rush us. Knock in the head of a +keg of whiskey, pour it over the bar, and burn +the shanty.”</p> +<p>The gamblers were, in fact, mustering for a +charge on the invaders. Before they could act the +saloon was ablaze and the flames, rising amid the +yells and execrations of its owners, leaped to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +big tent adjoining. In front of this the soldiers in +a skirmish line held back the scurrying outlaws. +Within a few moments Sellersville was ablaze +from end to end and its population, including +Perry and Rebstock, driven to the flatboats, were +floating with threats and curses down the muddy +current of the Spider Water.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VII' id='CHAPTER_VII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +</div> +<p>Stanley’s next camp was pitched down the +river where the overland telegraph line crossed +the Spider Water, and Bucks, installed in a smart +army tent with a cracker-box for a stool and a +packing-case for an instrument table, was, through +Dancing’s efforts, put in communication by wire +with Medicine Bend and the west country as far +as Sleepy Cat, where the War Department was establishing +an army post.</p> +<p>Stanley, with Bob Scott, now spent a great deal +of time in the saddle between the bridge and the +upper tie-camps, and his presence made itself felt +in the renewed energy everywhere apparent among +the contractors and their men. Bucks, chained +to a wire, as he expressed it, found the days dragging +again and would much rather have been at +liberty to ride with Scott, who, when free, hunted +in the foot-hills.</p> +<p>One day Bucks was sitting alone in his tent, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +looking for the hundredth time over a worn copy +of <i>Harper’s Weekly</i> that he had picked up at Casement’s +camp, when a dog put his nose in the tent +door. A glance revealed merely a disconsolate, +unpromising cur, yet Bucks thought he had seen +the dog before and was interested. He seemed of +an all-over alkali-brown hue, scant of hair, scant +of tail, and with only melancholy dewlap ears to +suggest a strain of nobler blood in an earlier ancestry. +He looked in with the furtive eye of the +tramp, and as if expecting that a boot or a club +would most probably be his welcome.</p> +<p>But Bucks at the moment was lonely––as lonely +as the dog himself––and as the two fixed their eyes +intently on each other, Bucks remembered that +this was the tie foreman’s dog, Scuffy.</p> +<p>Scuffy had appeared at the psychological moment. +Bucks regarded him in silence, and the dog +perceiving no immediate danger of assault +stood, in silence, returning Bucks’s stare. Then +watching the boy’s eye carefully, the dog cocked +his head just the least bit to one side. It was a +mute appeal, but a moving one. Bucks continued, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +however, his non-committal scrutiny, recalling +that the foreman had said nothing good +of Scuffy, and the homeless cur stood in doubt +as to his reception. But realizing, perhaps, that +he had nothing to lose and everything to gain, +the little vagabond played his last card––he +wagged his stubby tail.</p> +<p>A harder heart than Bucks’s might have been +touched. The operator held out his hand. No +more was needed; the melancholy tramp stepped +cautiously forward waving his alert flag of truce. +He sniffed long and carefully as he neared Bucks, +looked solicitously into the boy’s eyes, and then +smelt and licked the proffered hand. It was a +token of submission as plainly expressed as when +Friday, kneeling, placed Robinson Crusoe’s foot +on his head. Bucks reached into a paper bag +that Bill Dancing had left on the table and gave +the dog a cracker.</p> +<p>Scuffy snapped up the offering like one starving. +A second cracker and a third disappeared at single +gulps. For the length of the dog, the size of +his mouth appeared enormous. In a moment the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +cracker-bag was emptied and Scuffy again licked +the friendly hand. It did not take Bucks long to +decide what to do. In another moment he had +resolved to adopt his tramp visitor. The day +happened to be Friday, and Bucks at once renamed +him Friday. When Dancing, who had +been with Bob Scott hunting, came in late that +night he found Bucks asleep and Scuffy lying in +Dancing’s own bed, from which he was ejected +only after the most vigorous language on his own +part as well as on that of the lineman. Even +then, Scuffy retreated only as far as Bucks’s feet, +where he slept for the rest of the night undisturbed.</p> +<p>“Where did he come from?” growled Dancing +in the morning as he sat with his pipe regarding +the intruder, who acted quite at home, with a +critical eye.</p> +<p>Bucks explained that this was the tie foreman’s +runaway dog, Scuffy, and beyond Scuffy’s first appearance +at the tent door he could tell him nothing. +Scuffy simply and promptly assumed a place +in camp and Bucks became, willy-nilly, his sponsor. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +But his effort to rename him came to nothing. +Scuffy gave no heed when called “Friday,” +but for “Scuffy” he sprang to attention instantly.</p> +<p>Bill Dancing decided, off-hand, that “the pup” +was worthless. Scott, whose smile was kindly +even when sceptical, only corrected Bill to the +extent of saying that Friday or Scuffy, whoever +or whatever he might be, was no pup; that he +was a full-grown dog and in Bob’s judgment he +would need no guardian.</p> +<p>One day, shortly after Scuffy had been put +upon the pay-roll, Scott came in from a trip after +venison with word that there were black bears in +the hill canyons. The thought of bear’s meat +aroused every one, and Stanley suggested a bear +hunt. Scott had to send down to Stanley’s ranch +at Medicine Bend for his dogs and some delay +followed. But when the three hounds arrived +there was excitement enough to compensate for +it. One of the dogs was a big black fellow and +his companions were brown full-bloods. The +hounds, one and all, set on Scuffy the moment +they reached camp, and it was only by the most +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +dexterous manœuvres that the strange dog escaped +being eaten alive. Indeed, Bob Scott remarked +at once that if Scuffy should survive the +greetings of his new comrades he would prove his +right to live. The hounds always set upon him +at meal-times, usually chewed him at bed-time, +and harried him at all times.</p> +<p>To a less hopeful temperament than Scuffy’s, +life would not have seemed worth living. It was +only Bucks who insured him anything at all to +eat, and the enmity of the big, rangy hounds for +the lean and hungry tramp dog left him no peace +save when they were fighting in dreams. To +accept life under such conditions indicated that +Scuffy was a philosopher, and he accepted the +conditions cheerfully, filching what he could of +sustenance from the common pot and licking his +troublesome wounds at night after his truculent +companions had gone to sleep.</p> +<p>As soon as the tie-supply trouble had been lessened +Stanley took things more leisurely and the +interval afforded the opportunity for the delayed +bear hunt. Bob Scott and Dancing were to go +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +with Stanley, and Bucks being freed for one day +from his key was invited to be of the party. All +hands were in the saddle by daybreak, and Scott’s +hounds were baying and tearing around camp +wild with excitement.</p> +<p>At the last moment a complication arose. +Scuffy, who until the moment of starting had for +prudential reasons––that is, to avoid being eaten +up––remained in obscurity, joined the hunters. +Every one in turn tried to drive him back, but +long practice had made him expert in dodging +missiles and had rendered him insensible to reproach. +The hounds were too filled with the +prospect of sport to pay any attention to Scuffy. +In vain, Bob Scott tried to set them on him and +drive him back to camp. On this occasion, when +bullying would plainly have been justified, no +hound would assail Scuffy. Bucks drove him +again and again from the flank of the advance +only to have the mortification of seeing him reappear +a mile or two farther along the trail, and +it was at last decided to leave him to his fate at +the paw of a bear––which no one made doubt he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +was certain to suffer. At that moment Bucks +and Bill Dancing, riding together, saw a deer +frightened from a thicket running toward the +river. Bucks jumped from his horse and lifted +his rifle to take a shot, but by the time he was +ready to fire the deer had vanished.</p> +<p>Led by Scott, the hunters rode at once into the +rough country to the west, where in the mountain +fastnesses the bears loved to feed. The hounds +gave tongue vigorously, and Scuffy, who had by +this time not only established himself but had +impudently taken the lead and was heading the +pack, barked loudest and longest.</p> +<p>“Did anybody ever see conceit equal to that?” +demanded Stanley. “Look at that cur leading +the hounds.”</p> +<p>Bucks was mortified and expressed his regret.</p> +<p>“Don’t mind him, Bucks,” remarked Dancing +consolingly. “That dog won’t bother long. The first +time the hounds run in, the bear will finish <i>him</i>.”</p> +<p>Bucks did not know precisely what Bill meant +by “running in,” but he was not to be long in +doubt. The pack struck a fresh trail almost at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +once and the hunters had a long ride along a +mountain-side covered with fallen timber and cut +by innumerable wash-outs that made the riding +hard and dangerous. Scott found intervals to +encourage Bucks, whose youth and inexperience +made his task of keeping up with the others a +difficult one. “Take it easy,” said Scott encouragingly +as the operator tried to urge his mount.</p> +<p>“I am keeping you all back, Bob.”</p> +<p>“Plenty of time. You are doing wonders for +mountain-riding. When we close in on the bear +don’t be too keen to get near him. You wouldn’t +be safe for a minute on your horse if the dogs +didn’t keep the bear busy. As long as the dogs +worry the bear you are safe. A bear will never +chase a man as long as a dog keeps at him. It’s +only when the dogs refuse to go in any longer +that the danger begins. When that happens, look +out. Keep a respectful distance all the time and +a road open behind you. That’s all there is to a +bear fight.”</p> +<p>As he spoke, the hounds yelped sharply and +Scott spurred forward. The hunters were threading +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +a grove of quaking asp and the dogs had come +up with the bear on an opening of shale rock surrounded +by down timber. Throwing his reins and +advancing cautiously on foot, Stanley, followed by +his companions, who spread themselves in a wide +semicircle, took his place, the others, as they best +could, choosing their own.</p> +<p>The bear, a full-grown male, met the onset of +the hounds with grim confidence. The dogs encircled +him with a ring of ferocious teeth, running +in from behind whenever they could to nip the +huge beast in the haunches or on the flank. But +the surprise of the encounter was Scuffy.</p> +<p>“Look,” cried Bill Dancing, under whose wing +Bucks had taken his post. “Look at him! Why, +the pup is a world-beater!”</p> +<p>In truth, Scuffy was the liveliest and most impudent +dog in the pack, and when the fight was +fully on, managed to worry the angry bear more +than the hounds did. Within a moment the black +hound, over-bold, imprudently rushed the bear in +front. A paw darting from the huge beast caught +him like a trip-hammer and stretched him helpless. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +In that moment the bear exposed himself +to Stanley’s rifle and a shot rang across the +mountain-side. Scott watched the result anxiously. +But the slug instead of dropping the bear served +only to enrage him. For an instant the two hounds +lost their heads and the infuriated bear charged +Bucks and Bill Dancing.</p> +<p>The shale opening became a scene of confusion. +Exposing himself recklessly, Scott tried to urge +the dogs forward, but they had lost their nerve. +It needed only this to upset everything. The +hunters closed in together, and the critical moment +had come; deaf alike to command and entreaty, +the two hounds refused to go in, and +Scuffy, flying wildly about the bear, seemed unable +to check him. Dancing stopped long enough to +take one shot, and ran––with Bucks, who had +found no chance to shoot, following. The bear +gained fast on the long-legged lineman and his +boy companion. A wash-out, hidden by a clump +of bushes, lay directly in the path of flight. Dancing, +perceiving it, dashed to the left and escaped. +He shouted a warning to Bucks, who, not understanding, +plunged straight over the declivity and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +sprawled into the wash-out with the bear after +him. Catching his rifle, the boy scrambled to +his feet with his pursuer less than twenty feet +away. Between the two there was only open +ground, and the bear was scrambling for Bucks +when Scuffy sprang down the shale bank and +confronted the enemy.</p> +<p>It looked like certain death for Scuffy, but the +tramp dog did not hesitate. He rushed at the +bear with a fury of snapping, though not without +a lively respect for the sweep of the brute’s fore +paws. The little dog, freeing himself forever in +that moment from the stigma of cur, put up a +fight that astonished the big brute.</p> +<p>Scuffy raced at him first on one side and then +on the other, bounding in and out like a rubber +ball, dashing across his front and running clear +around the circling bear, nipping even an occasional +mouthful of hair from his haunches. He +made noise enough for a pack of dogs and simulated +a fury that gave the bear the surprise of his +life. Bucks realized that only his four-legged friend +stood between him and destruction and that so +unequal a contest could not endure long. Skilful as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +the little fellow was, he was pitted against an antagonist +quite as quick and wary. The clumsiness +of the bear was no more than seeming, and +any one of the terrific blows he dealt at Scuffy +with his huge paw would have stretched a man +lifeless. Bucks, collecting his disordered faculties, +raised his rifle to help his champion with a shot. +His heart beat like a hammer in his throat, but +he knew there was only one thing to do, that was +to get the rifle-sights carefully lined in his eye and +shoot when Scuffy gave him an opening.</p> +<p>It came in a moment when the bear turned to +smash Scuffy on his flank. Bucks fired. To his +amazement, no result followed. The failure of +the bear to show any sign of being hit stunned +him, and he drew his revolver, never expecting to +escape alive, when two shots rang across the wash +as close together as if fired by the same hand. +The bear sank like a falling tree. Yet he rallied +and again rushed for Bucks, despite Scuffy’s stout +opposition and the yells from above, and finally +halted only when Bob Scott, jumping into the +wash-out, confronted him with a knife. There was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +an instant of apprehension, broken by a third +shot from Dancing’s rifle across the gully, and the +bear crumpled lifeless almost at Scott’s feet.</p> +<p>The scout turned to Bucks as he stood dazed +by his narrow escape. Stanley, above, shouted. +And Bill Dancing, carrying his empty rifle, and +with his face bleeding from the briers, made +his way down the opposite side of the wash. +Scuffy, mounting the body of his dead foe, barked +furiously.</p> +<p>The little dog was the real hero of the encounter. +He had paid his keep and earned his way as +a member of the family and as a bear-fighter. +When Bucks picked up his rifle he told Scott of +his bad miss in the critical moment of the fight. +Bob took the gun from his hands and examined +the sights good-naturedly. Bucks had neglected +to change the elevation after he had aimed at the +deer an hour earlier.</p> +<p>“Next time you shoot at a bear twenty feet +away, don’t leave your sights set for two hundred +yards,” was all Scott said.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_VIII' id='CHAPTER_VIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</div> +<p>The bruises that Bucks nursed were tender +for some days, and Scott tried out some bear’s +grease for an ointment.</p> +<p>Scuffy, who had come out of the fight without +a scratch, took on new airs in camp, and returned +evil for evil by bullying the two wounded hounds +who were too surprised by his aggressiveness to +make an effective defence.</p> +<p>Bucks, when he was alone with the dog and +time dragged heavily, turned for diversion to the +only book in the camp, a well-thumbed copy of +“The Last of the Mohicans.” He had brought +it with him to read coming out from Pittsburgh, +and had thrown it into his bag when leaving Medicine +Bend. In camp it proved a treasure, even +the troopers, when they were idle, casting lots to +get hold of it.</p> +<p>One day, when Bucks was absorbed in the romance, +Bob Scott asked him what he was reading. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +Bucks tried to give him some idea of the story. +Scott showed little apparent interest in the résumé, +but he listened respectfully while cleaning +his rifle. He made no comment until Bucks had +done.</p> +<p>“What kind of Indians did you say those were,” +he asked, contracting his brows as he did when +a subject perplexed him, “Uncas and Chingachgook?”</p> +<p>“Delawares, Bob. Know anything about Delaware +Indians?”</p> +<p>Scott shook his head. “Never heard of Delawares +in our country. I saw a Pottawottamie +Indian once, but never any Delawares. Is this +story about Uncas a true story?”</p> +<p>“As true as any story. Listen here.” Bucks +read aloud to him for a while, his companion at +intervals asking questions and approving or criticising +the Indian classic.</p> +<p>“If you could only read, Bob, you ought to +read the whole book,” said Bucks regretfully, as +he put the volume aside.</p> +<p>“I can read a little,” returned Scott, to Bucks’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +surprise. “All except the long words,” added the +scout modestly. “A man down at Medicine Bend +tried to sell me a pair of spectacles once. They +had gold rims, and he told me that a man with +those spectacles could read any kind of a book. +He thought I was a greenhorn,” said the scout.</p> +<p>“Where did you learn to read?”</p> +<p>“A Blackrobe taught me.”</p> +<p>Bucks held out the book. “Then read this, +Bob, sure.”</p> +<p>Scott looked at the worn volume, but shook +his head doubtfully. “Looks like a pretty big +book for me. But if you can find out whether it’s +true, I might try it sometime.”</p> +<p>Stanley, after a few days, started up the river +with Scott and Dancing, leaving his men in +camp. Bucks, who was still too stiff to ride, +likewise remained to receive any messages that +might come.</p> +<p>There was an abundance of water-fowl in the +sloughs and ponds up and down the river, and +Bucks, the morning after Stanley’s departure, +leaving the troopers lounging in camp, started out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +with a shot-gun to look for ducks. He passed the +first bend up-stream, and working his way toward +a small pond thickly fringed with alders, where +he had often seen teal and mallards, attempted +to crawl within gunshot of it.</p> +<p>He was working his way in this fashion toward +the edge of the water when he heard a clatter of +wings and the next moment a flock of mallards +rushed in swift flight over his head. He impulsively +threw up his gun to fire but some instinct +checked him. He was in a country of dangerous +enemies and the thought of bears still loomed +large in his mind. An instant’s reflection convinced +him that it was not his movement that +had frightened the ducks, and he was enough of a +hunter to look further than that for the cause. +As caution seemed, from the soreness of his legs +and arms, plainly indicated, he lay still to await +developments.</p> +<p>Soon he heard a movement of trampling feet, +and, seemingly, across the pond from him. Bucks +thought of buffaloes. His heart beat fast at the +thought of getting a shot at one until he reflected +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +that he had no rifle. The next instant his heart +stopped beating. Not ten feet from where he lay +in the thick willows, an Indian carrying a rifle, and +in war-paint, stole noiselessly along toward the +camp. No sooner had he disappeared than a +second brave followed, and while Bucks was +digesting this fright a third warrior, creeping +in the same stealthy manner and almost without +a sound, passed the staring boy; the appearance +of a fourth and a fifth raised the hair on Bucks’s +head till he was almost stunned with fright, but +he had still to count three more in the party, +one more ferocious-looking than another, before +all had passed.</p> +<p>What to do was the question that forced itself +on him. He feared the Indians would attack the +troopers in camp, and this he felt would be a massacre, +since the men, not suspecting danger, would +be taken wholly unawares. Should he fire his +gun as a signal? It would probably bring the +Indians back upon him, but the thought of allowing +the troopers to be butchered was insupportable. +His hammers were cocked and his finger +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +was on one trigger when he considered how useless +the alarm would be. The troopers knew that he +had gone duck hunting. They would expect to +hear him shoot and would pay no attention to it. +To rush out after the Indians would only invite +his instant death.</p> +<p>There seemed nothing he could do and a cold +sweat of apprehension broke over him. But if he +fired his gun he might, at least, surprise the Indians. +The report of a gun in their rear would +alarm them––since they knew nothing of his presence +or his duck hunting and might take fright. +Without more ado he fired both barrels one after +the other, careful only to shoot low into the willows, +hoping the smoke would not rise so quickly +as to betray him before he could make a dash for +a new hiding-place.</p> +<p>His ruse worked and he ran at top speed for +twenty yards before he threw himself into a clump +of cotton-woods close to the camp trail and began +to reload. While he was doing so a shout came +from the direction of the railroad bridge. Not +until then did Bucks understand what the Indians +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +were after. But had he not understood, he +would have known a moment later when he heard +a sharp exchange of shots toward the camp, heard +the dogs barking furiously, and saw the Indians, +now on their ponies, running the troopers’ horses +past him at a breakneck gallop. The Indians +yelled lustily at the success of their raid, the stampeded +horses dashed panic-stricken before them, +and the braves shouted back in derision at the +vain efforts of the troopers to stop them with useless +bullets. Bucks’s own impulse was to empty +a charge of birdshot into the last of the fleeing +warriors, but this he knew might cost him his life, +and he resisted the temptation. When he was +sure all were past he ran toward the bluffs, and +gaining a little eminence saw the fleeing Indians, +a dozen in all, making their way jubilantly up +the river. At the camp the discomfited cavalrymen +were preparing for a siege, and in their +excitement almost shot Bucks as he hove in sight.</p> +<p>Bucks gave a good description of the marauders, +and, following him up to the pond, six of the +troopers attempted some pursuit. This, to unmounted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +men, was useless, as they well knew. +Indeed, they used caution not to come unawares +on any friends of the escaping braves that might +have lingered behind.</p> +<p>Colonel Stanley returned in the morning to hear +that his escort had been unhorsed. Bob Scott +grinned at the cavalrymen as they told the story. +He assured them that they had got off lightly, and +that if Bucks’s signals had not alarmed the little +war-party they might have carried away scalps +as well as horses.</p> +<p>“We shall be in luck if we don’t hear more of +those fellows,” said he to Bucks afterward. There +was now manifestly nothing to do but to go in, +and later in the day a freight train was flagged +and the whole party, with Scuffy and the hounds, +returned to Casement’s camp. Scott sent his dogs +thence to the ranch in Medicine Bend, and at +Bucks’s urgent request Scuffy was sent with +them to await his own return to head-quarters.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_IX' id='CHAPTER_IX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +</div> +<p>The foray of the Indians at the Spider Water +Bridge proved, as Bob Scott had feared, only +a forerunner of active hostilities. Casement had +already taken all necessary measures of defence. +His construction camp was moved steadily westward, +though sometimes inside the picket lines +of troops, despite the warring Indians and the difficulties +of his situation. Alarms, however, were +continual and the graders, many of whom were +old soldiers, worked at all times with their muskets +stacked on the dump beside them. In the +construction camp Bucks saw also many negroes, +and at night the camp-fires of their quarters were +alive with the singing and dancing of the old +plantation life in the South.</p> +<p>While waiting for Stanley’s inspection of the +grading and track-laying, Bucks relieved at times +the camp operator, whose principal business was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +the rushing of emphatic demands to Omaha for +material and supplies.</p> +<p>During other intervals Bucks found a chance +to study the system that underlay the seemingly +hopeless confusion of the construction work. The +engineers moving far in advance had located the +line, and following these came the graders and +bridge- and culvert-builders, cutting through the +hills, levelling the fills, and spanning the streams +and water-ways with trestles and wooden bridges, +miles in advance of the main army. Behind these +came Casement’s own big camp with the tiemen, +the track-layers, and the ballast gangs.</p> +<p>Every Eastern market was drawn upon for materials, +and when these reached Omaha, trains +loaded with them were constantly pushed to the +front. The chief spiker of the rail gang, taking a +fancy to Bucks, invited him to go out with the +rail-layers one day, and Bucks took a temporary +commission as spike-dropper.</p> +<p>To do this, he followed Dancing up the track +past a long construction train in which the men +lived. The big box-cars contained sleeping-bunks, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +and those men who preferred more air and seclusion +had swung sleeping-hammocks under the cars; +others had spread their beds on top of the cars. +Climbing a little embankment, Bucks watched the +sturdy, broad-shouldered pioneers. A light car +drawn by a single, galloping horse was rushed to +the extreme end of the laid rails. Before it had +fairly stopped, two men waiting on either side +seized the end of a rail with their trap and started +forward. Ten more men, following in twos, at a +run, lifted the two rails clear of the car and dropped +them in place on the ties. The foreman instantly +gauged them, the horse moved ahead, and thirty +spikers armed with heavy mauls drove the spikes +furiously and regularly, three strokes to the spike, +into the new-laid ties. The bolters followed with +the fish-plates, and while Bucks looked the railroad +was made before his eyes.</p> +<p>The excitement of the scene was unforgettable. +In less than sixty seconds four rails had gone +down. The moment a horse-car was emptied +it was dumped off one side of the track, and a +loaded car with its horse galloping to the front +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +had passed it. The next instant the “empty” +was lifted back on the rails, and at the end of +a sixty-foot rope the horse, ridden by a hustling +boy, was being urged back to where the +rails were transferred from the regular flat cars. +The clang of the heavy iron, the continuous ring +of the spike mauls, the shouting of the orders, +the throwing of each empty horse-car from the +track to make way for a loaded one, these things +were all new and stimulating to Bucks. The +chief spiker laughed when the young operator +told him how fine it was. He asked Bucks to +look at his watch and time the work. In half +an hour Bucks looked at his watch again. In +the interval the gang had laid eight hundred feet +of track.</p> +<p>“I don’t see how you can work so fast,” declared +Bucks.</p> +<p>“Do you know how many times,” demanded +the spiker, “those sledges have to swing? There +are eighteen ties and thirty-six spikes to every +rail, three hundred and fifty-two rails to every +mile, and eighteen hundred miles from Omaha +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +to San Francisco––those sledges will swing sixty-eight +million times before the rails are full-spiked––they +have to go fast.”</p> +<p>The words were hardly out of the chief spiker’s +mouth when a cry of alarm rang from the front. +Bucks, looking eagerly, saw in the west a cloud +of dust. At the same time he saw the tie gang +running in dozens for their lives from the divide +where they were working toward the camp. The +men beyond them on the grade had scrambled +into the wagons, dumped any ties they might +contain helter-skelter to the ground, and were +clinging to the wagon boxes. In these, the drivers +standing up, lashed their horses with whip and +line for life, and death, while everywhere beside +and behind them other men on foot were racing +back to safety.</p> +<p>New clouds of dust rose along the grade from +the flying wagon wheels, the horses tore madly +on, and as the heavy wagons jolted over the loose +stones, the fugitives, yelling with excitement and +alarm and clinging to one another as they +bounced up and down, looked anxiously behind.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></div> +<p>There was no uncertainty as to the cause of +the panic. “Indians!” was the cry everywhere. +Every man in camp had dropped his working +implement and was moving somewhere on the +double-quick. Every one, it seemed to Bucks, +was shouting and running. But above the confusion +of the surprise and the babel of voices, +Bucks heard the sharp tones of Jack Casement +giving orders.</p> +<p>The old soldiers in the working gang needed +no further discipline. The timid and the skulkers +scurried for the box-cars and the dugouts. On +the other hand, the soldiers ran for the dumps +where the arms were stacked, and seizing their +muskets hurried back and, trained for the emergency, +fell into line under their foremen.</p> +<p>Casement, musket in hand, taking the largest +company of men as they formed in fours behind +him, started forward at the double-quick, yelling +now for the moral effect, to protect the retreat of +the wagons. The men, scattering as they reached +the edge of the camp, dropped into every spot of +shelter, and at the same moment Stanley, mounted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +and alive with the vim and fire of the soldier, led +a smaller body of men rapidly back to guard the +rear of the camp, deploying his little force about +the box-cars and flat cars as they hastened on. +In an instant the construction camp had become +a fortress defended by a thousand men.</p> +<p>It was none too soon. Stirring the yellow plain +with the fury of a whirlwind, a band of Sioux +warriors rode the fleeing railroaders furiously +down. They appeared phantom-like out of every +slip and canyon, and rode full-panoplied from +behind every hill. The horizon that had shown +five minutes before only the burning sunshine +and the dull glare of the alkali sinks, danced now +with the flying ponies of the Indians, and the hills +echoed with ominous cries.</p> +<p>Without a word of warning, the few fleeing men +who had been working too far from camp to reach +it in safety were mercilessly cut down. Their +comrades under arms, with an answering cry of +defiance poured a volley of cartridge balls into the +thin, black circle that rode ever closer and closer +to the muzzles of the muskets. Jack Casement +and his brother Dan recklessly urged their men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +to the most advanced posts of defence, and from +behind scrapers, wagons, flat cars, and friendly +hillocks the railroad men poured a galling fire into +their active foe.</p> +<p>The Indians, seeking with unerring instinct the +weakest point in the defence, converged in hundreds +upon the long string of box-cars that made +up the construction train at the rear of the camp, +where Stanley, extending his few men in a resolute +skirmish line, endeavored to prevent the savages +from scalping the non-combatant cooks and +burning the sleeping-cars. Bucks saw, conspicuous +in the attack, a slender Sioux chief riding +a strong-limbed, fleet pony with a coat of burnished +gold and as much filled with the fire of +the fight as his master was. Riding hither and +thither and swinging a long, heavy musket like +a marshal’s baton, the Sioux warrior, almost +everywhere at once, urged his men to the fighting, +and the fate of the few white men they were +able to cut down or scalp before Stanley could +cover the line of box-cars seemed to add vigor +to their onslaught.</p> +<p>Stanley himself, attacked by ten braves for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +every man he could muster at that point with a +gun, dashed up and down the old wagon roads +along the right of way, a conspicuous target for +the Indians. His hat, in the mêlée, had disappeared, +and, swinging a heavy Colt’s revolver, +which the Indians shrank from with a healthy instinct +of danger, he pressed back the hungry red +line again and again, supported only by such +musketry fire as the men crouching under, within, +and between the box-cars could offer.</p> +<p>Wherever he rode his wily foes retreated, but +they closed in constantly behind him, and one +brave, more daring than his fellows, succeeded in +setting fire to a box-car. A shout of triumph rose +from the circling horsemen, but it was short-lived. +Stanley, wheeling like a flash, gave chase to the +incendiary. The Sioux rode for his life, but his +pony’s pace was no match for the springing strides +of Stanley’s American horse.</p> +<p>For an instant the attention of the whole fight +in the rear of the camp was drawn upon the rash +brave and his pursuer. Bucks, with straining eyes +and beating heart, awaited the result. He saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +Stanley steadily closing the gap that separated +him from his fleeing enemy. Then the revolver +was thrown suddenly upward and forward, and +smoke flashed from the muzzle. The echo of the +report had hardly reached Bucks’s ears when the +revolver, swung high again to balance the rhythm +of the horse’s flight, was fired again, and a third +time, at the doomed man.</p> +<p>The Indian, bending forward on his horse, caught +convulsively at his mane, then rising high in his +seat plunged head-foremost to the ground, and +his riderless horse fled on. His pursuer, wheeling, +threw himself flat in his saddle to escape the fire +bent upon him from behind as he rode back. At +that moment Dan Casement and his men hurried +up on the double-quick. With him came Bucks, +who had secured a rifle and fallen in. Some +men of the welcome reinforcement were set at putting +out the fire. Others strengthened Stanley’s +scattered skirmish line.</p> +<p>Convinced by the determined front now opposed +to him of the impossibility of rushing the camp, the +Sioux chief gave the signal to retire.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></div> +<p>As if the earth had opened to swallow them up, +the warriors melted away, and as suddenly as the +plain had borne them into life it now concealed +their disappearance. In twenty minutes they had +come and gone as completely as if they had never +been. But in that short interval they had left +death and consternation in their wake.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_X' id='CHAPTER_X'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +</div> +<p>Stirred by the increasing boldness of the +Indians, Stanley returned with his party to Medicine +Bend to take further measures for the defence +of the railroad men.</p> +<p>Bucks, when he reported to Baxter, the train +despatcher, found new orders waiting for him. +He was directed to take charge of the station at +Goose Creek. The train did not leave till night, +and Bucks took advantage of the interval to go +uptown to make some necessary purchases of linen +and clothing. On his way back to the station, +with his package under his arm, he saw, on the +edge of the broad sidewalk, Harvey Levake. Levake +was standing near a wooden-Indian cigar-store +sign, looking directly at Bucks as the latter +walked toward him. The operator, nodding as +he came up, asked Levake, without parley, whether +he would give him the money for the express +charges on the cartridges.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></div> +<p>If Bucks had exploded a keg of powder on the +sidewalk there could not have been a greater +change in the outlaw’s manner. He stared at +Bucks with contempt enough to pierce the feelings +of the wooden Indian beside which he stood.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” he demanded, throwing his +head menacingly forward.</p> +<p>Bucks repeated his request, but so mildly that +Levake took additional umbrage at his diffidence.</p> +<p>“See here,” he muttered in a voice beginning +like a distant roll of thunder and gathering +force and volume as he continued, “don’t insult +me.”</p> +<p>Bucks ventured to urge that he intended no +insult.</p> +<p>“Don’t insult me!” bellowed Levake in violent +tones.</p> +<p>Again Bucks attempted to protest. It was useless. +Levake insisted with increasing wrath upon +hugging the insult to himself, while Bucks struggled +manfully to get it away from him. And as +Levake’s loud words did not attract as much attention +up and down the street as he sought, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +stamped about on the sidewalk. Bucks’s efforts +to pacify him made matters momentarily worse.</p> +<p>Meantime a crowd such as Levake desired had +gathered and Bucks found himself a target for +the outlaw’s continued abuse, with nobody to take +his part. Moreover, the expressions on the faces +about him now made him realize his peril quite +as much as anything in Levake’s words. It was +becoming painfully evident that the onlookers +were merely waiting to see Levake shoot him +down.</p> +<p>“No man in Medicine Bend can insult me and +live,” cried Levake, winding up a tirade of abuse. +“I’m known from one end of this street to the +other. Nobody can spread lies in it about me.”</p> +<p>He drew and flourished a revolver as he spoke. +None in the crowd interfered with so much as a +word. But even before the outlaw had finished +what he was saying, a man of medium size and +easy manner elbowed his way quietly through the +circle of spectators, and, taking Bucks by the arm, +drew him back and faced Levake himself. It was +Bob Scott.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></div> +<p>“What’s all this about, Levake?” demanded +Scott gently.</p> +<p>Levake had no alternative but to turn his wrath +upon the Indian scout. Yet those who knew him +perceived that it was done without much stomach +for the job. Instead of growing momentarily +greater the violence of his abuse now grew +steadily less, and the thunder in his tones rolled +further and further from the subject.</p> +<p>Half-turning to Bucks, Scott laid his hand on +his arm again. “Excuse me,” said he, deliberately +and quietly, “but you are wanted quick at the +station. They are waiting for you. Go right +along, will you?”</p> +<p>Only too glad to get away and comprehending +Scott’s ruse, Bucks exclaimed, “Why, of course, +certainly,” and stepping quickly into the crowd +walked away.</p> +<p>Turning again to Levake, Scott made no effort +to check the torrent of his words. In consequence, +the gambler found himself embarrassed +by the prospect of talking himself out. This +would not have been so bad except that his circle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +of admirers would, when he stopped talking, expect +him to do something and he was now at a +loss to decide just what to do. To shoot down +Bucks was rather a different matter from a pistol +duel with Scott.</p> +<p>None of the street loafers about the two men +knew Scott, nor did any of them know that Levake +had a prudent respect for Scott’s trigger. +As for Scott himself, a smile of contempt gradually +covered his face as he listened to Levake’s +outbreak. He only waited patiently for the moment, +which he knew must come, when Levake +should cease talking.</p> +<p>“Your tongue, Levake,” returned Scott at last, +“is longer than a coyote’s. Why do you stand +here and bellow about being insulted? What is +all this noise about, anyway? These fellows,” a +contemptuous nod indicated the men standing +around, “all know, if you don’t. You’ve been +talking loud so you could get a crowd together +and advertise yourself by shooting an unarmed +boy, haven’t you?”</p> +<p>The desperado broke out in fresh denials and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +curses, but he feared the ridicule of the Indian +would bring the laughter of his admirers down +on him. Nor was he keen to try a pistol duel. +He remembered too well the attack he had once +headed on an emigrant train that Scott was guarding, +and from which the outlaws with Levake had +carried away some unexpected and unwelcome +bullets.</p> +<p>Scott, now taunting Levake openly, stepped +directly in front of him. But the latter waved +him away. “I’ll settle my differences with you +when I’m ready,” he muttered. “If that fellow,” +he added, indicating Bucks, who was making +record time across the square, “behaves himself, +I’ll let this go. If he doesn’t, I’ll fill him full of +lead.”</p> +<p>“When you do,” retorted Scott, “remember +just one thing––that I’m going to fill you full, +Levake. Don’t forget that.”</p> +<p>Scott stepped backward. The crowd parted to +let him through and Levake walked sullenly toward +the cigar store.</p> +<p>Bucks wiped the perspiration from his forehead +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +when he reached the station and drew a long +breath. He waited until Scott crossed the square +and joined him. The Indian only laughed when +Bucks tried to thank him. “It is nothing,” he +said, “you are getting experience. Only don’t +tackle that man again till you give me notice +beforehand.”</p> +<p>The next morning Bucks installed himself at +Goose Creek.</p> +<p>Goose Creek was a mere operating point and +besides the rough wooden station, with an attic +sleeping-room for the operator, boasted only a +house for the section crew––six men taken care of +by a China boy cook. East of the station stood +an old road ranch belonging to Leon Sublette. +For this, freight was at times unloaded and an Indian +trail to the south led through the sand-hills as +far as the Arickaree country. North of the river +greater sand-hills stretched as far as the eye could +reach. The long, marshy stretches of the Nebraska +River lost themselves on the eastern and +the western horizon and at times clouds of wild +fowl obscured the sun in their flight across the sky.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></div> +<p>Dancing came down to the new station to complete +the instalment of the instruments and this +broke for a day or two the loneliness of the new +surroundings. Indeed, there was hardly time to +be lonely. The constant round of interest attending +the arrival of trains with their long halts, +visits from trappers living at the ranch who were +always ready to talk, and occasional calls from +friendly Pawnees from the south, together with +abundance of time for hunting the geese and ducks, +made the days go.</p> +<p>But one early summer morning Bucks woke +to an adventure not upon his daily programme. +He walked downstairs after dressing, and as +he stepped out on the platform the sand-hills +touched by the rising sun shone in the northwest +like mountains of gold. Looking at them he saw +to his surprise they were covered with black +objects that appeared to be moving.</p> +<p>Indians were first in his mind, and in his alarm +he ran all the way to the section-house where the +foreman, after a hasty study of the hills, explained +that the suspicious-looking objects were buffaloes.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></div> +<p>This information only added to Bucks’s excitement. +The China boy cook, Lee Ong, at the +section-house appeared equally stirred at the +situation and, after running in and out of the +kitchen with much fluttering of cue and clattering +of wooden shoes, promised Bucks a buffalo +steak for dinner if he would bring in a hindquarter.</p> +<p>By the time Bucks had finished breakfast the +whole country to the north was black with buffaloes. +For hours they poured over the divide to +the delight of the astonished boy, and after a time +he wired Baxter at Medicine Bend that a herd of +at least one million buffaloes was crossing the railroad +at Goose Creek. As the grave despatcher +seemed not greatly excited by this intelligence, +Bucks followed up the story at intervals with +vivid details. A wag on the wire in Medicine +Bend played upon his enthusiasm by demanding +frequent bulletins, even going so far as to ask the +names of the leading buffaloes in the herd. When +he had got all the laughs possible for the office out +of the youthful operator, he wired Bucks that if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +the herd should linger too long on the right-of-way +he must notify them that they would be +held as trespassers.</p> +<p>This message had hardly reached Goose Creek +when the China boy came running into the telegraph +office. His eyes were staring, and his face +was greenish-white with fright. “Indians!” he +exclaimed, running to Bucks’s side and dashing +back again to the west window.</p> +<p>Bucks sprang to his feet. “Where?”</p> +<p>Lee Ong pointed to the northern sand-hills. +Riding the broad slopes that led toward the river, +Bucks saw a long string of braves, evidently a +hunting party. The cook, beside himself with +fear, ran out of the station before Bucks could +stop him.</p> +<p>“Hi there, Lee,” cried the operator, running +after him. “Where are the section men?”</p> +<p>“Gone,” cried Lee Ong, not ceasing to run, +“all gone!” He pointed, with the words, to the +east.</p> +<p>“Tell them to bring the hand-car down here!”</p> +<p>“Too much gone,” shouted Ong. “Omaha!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></div> +<p>“Lee! Stop! Where are you going?”</p> +<p>Lee stopped only long enough to throw his right +arm and forefinger with an excited gesture toward +the west.</p> +<p>“San Francisco, San Francisco!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Why, Lee,” exclaimed Bucks running after him, +“hold on! You are crazy! San Francisco is fifteen +hundred miles from here.” This information did +not visibly move Ong. “Indian no good,” he +cried, pausing, but only long enough to wave both +hands wildly toward the sand-hills. “San Francisco +good. No some more cook here. Indian +come too quick”––Ong with his active finger girdled +the crown of his head in a lightning-like imitation +of a scalping knife––“psst! No good for +Ong!”</p> +<p>It would have seemed funny to Bucks if he had +not been already frightened himself. But if the +section men had fled with the hand-car it meant +he would have to face the Indians. Lee Ong, +running like mad, was already out of hearing, +and in any event Bucks had no wish to imperil +the poor China boy’s scalp with his own.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></div> +<p>He turned an anxious eye toward the sand-hills. +Then realizing that on the platform he was exposing +himself needlessly, he hastened inside to his +key and called up Medicine Bend. It was only +a moment, but it seemed to the frightened operator +a lifetime before the despatcher answered. +Bucks reported the Indians and asked if there +were any freight trains coming that he could make +his escape on.</p> +<p>The despatcher answered that No. 11, the local +freight, was then due at Goose Creek and would +pick him up and carry him to Julesburg if he felt +in danger. Bucks turned with relief to the east +window and saw down the valley the smoke of the +freight already in sight. Never had a freight train +looked so good to his eyes as it did at that moment. +He hailed its appearance with a shout and +looked apprehensively back toward the sand-hills.</p> +<p>The activity in that direction was not reassuring. +The Indians, too, apparently had noticed +the smoke of No. 11 trailing on the horizon. A +conference followed, illustrated by frequent pointing +and violent gesticulating to indicate the coming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +train. Then with a sudden resolve the whole +party rode rapidly out of the hills and down toward +the railroad.</p> +<p>Bucks’s heart misgave him as he watched. But +the cotton-woods growing along the river hid the +Indians from his eyes and he could not surmise +what they were doing. The information all went +to the despatcher, however, who, more experienced, +scented serious mischief when Bucks’s bulletins +now came in.</p> +<p>“Watch close,” he wired. “It looks as if they +were going to attack the train.”</p> +<p>The operator’s anxiety rose with the intimation. +He ran out of doors and down the track, +but he could neither hear nor see a thing except +the slow-moving train with the smoke puffing from +the awkward, diamond-stack locomotive moving +peacefully toward the cotton-woods that fringed +the eastern shore of Goose Creek. The very silence +seemed ominous. Bucks knew the Indians +were hidden somewhere in the cotton-woods and +felt that they could mean nothing but mischief. +He ran back to his key and reported.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span></div> +<p>“They will surely attack No. 11,” he wired. +“I will run across the bridge and warn them.”</p> +<p>“Where are the Indians?” demanded the despatcher.</p> +<p>“In the timber across the creek. I am starting.”</p> +<p>“Don’t be an idiot,” returned the despatcher, +with an expression of Western force and brevity. +“They will lift your hair before you get half-way +to the train. Stick to your key as long as you +can. If they start to cross the creek, leg it for +the ranch. Do you get me?”</p> +<p>Bucks, considerably flurried, answered that he +did, and the despatcher with renewed emphasis +reiterated his sharp inquiry. “Do you understand, +young fellow? If they start to cross the +creek, leg it for the ranch or you’ll lose your hair.”</p> +<p>Bucks strained his eyes looking for a sign of +movement across the bridge. The cotton-woods +swayed gently in the light breeze, but revealed +nothing of what they hid.</p> +<p>The freight train continued to crawl lazily along, +its crews quite unconscious of any impending fate. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +Bucks, smothering with excitement and apprehension, +saw the engine round the curve that led to +the trestle approach of the bridge. Then the trees +hid the train from his sight.</p> +<p>“What are they doing?” demanded the despatcher, +growing apprehensive himself. An appalling +crash from the woods electrified Bucks, +and the key rattled fast.</p> +<p>“They have wrecked the train,” he wired without +an instant’s hesitation. “I can hear the crash +of cars falling from the trestle.”</p> +<p>Before he could finish his message he heard also +the screech of an engine whistle. The next instant +the locomotive dashed out of the woods upon the +bridge at full speed and with cries of disappointment +and rage the savages rode out to the very +bank of the creek and into the water after it. +Bucks saw the sudden engine and thought at first +that the train had escaped. The next moment +he knew it had not. The engine was light: evidently +it had passed in safety the trap laid for +its destruction, but the cars following had left +the rails.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></div> +<p>If confirmation of this conclusion had been +needed, it came when he ran out upon the platform +as the engine approached. Bucks waved +vigorous signals at it, but the ponderous machine +came faster instead of slower as it neared the +station, and, with Bucks vainly trying to attract +the attention of the engineman or fireman, the +locomotive thundered past at forty miles an +hour.</p> +<p>He caught one glimpse through the tender gangway +as the engine dashed by and saw both men in +the cab crouching in front of the furnace door to +escape the fancied bullets of the savages. Bucks +shouted, but knew he had been neither seen nor +heard, and, as the engine raced into the west, his +best chance of escape from an unpleasant situation +had disappeared almost before he realized it.</p> +<p>Each detail was faithfully reported to the despatcher, +who answered at once.</p> +<p>“Relief train,” he wired, “now making up with +a hundred men. Hold on as long as you can, but +take no chances. What are they doing? Can +you see or hear them?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></div> +<p>“They are yelling so you could hear them a +mile.”</p> +<p>“Scout around a little,” directed the despatcher, +“but don’t get caught.”</p> +<p>Bucks scouted around the room a little, but did +not venture this time farther than the windows. +He was growing very nervous. And the Indians, +unrestrained in their triumph, displayed themselves +everywhere without concealment. Helpless +to aid, Bucks was compelled to stand and see a +fleeing white man, the brakeman of the doomed +train, running for his life, cut down by the pursuers +and scalped before his eyes.</p> +<p>The horror and savagery of it sank deeply into +the boy’s heart and only the realization of his +utter inability to help kept him quiet. Tears of +fury coursed down his cheeks as he saw in the +distance the murdered man lying motionless on the +sand beside the track, and with shaking fingers he +reported the death to Medicine Bend.</p> +<p>“The relief train has started,” answered the +despatcher, “with Stanley, Scott, Sublette, Dancing, +and a hundred men.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></div> +<p>As the message came, Bucks heard shooting farther +up the creek and this continued at intervals +for some moments. It was sickening to hear, for +it meant, Bucks surmised, that another trainman +was being murdered.</p> +<p>Meantime the Indians that he could see were +smashing into the wrecked merchandise cars and +dragging the loot out upon the open prairie. Hats, +clothing, tobacco, provisions, camp supplies of +every sort, and musical instruments, millinery, +boots, and blankets were among the plunder. The +wearing apparel was tumbled out of the broken +cases and, arrayed in whatever they could seize, +the Indians paraded on their horses up and down +the east bank of the creek in fantastic show.</p> +<p>Some wore women’s hats, some crinoline hoop-skirts +over their shoulders; others brandished +boots and shirts, and one glistening brave swung +a banjo at arm’s-length over his flying horse’s +head. Another party of the despoilers discovered +a shipment of silks and satins. These they +dragged in bolts from the packing-cases and, tying +one end of a bolt of silk to their ponies’ tails, they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +raced, yelling, in circles around the prairie with +the parti-colored silks streaming behind, the bolts +bobbing and jerking along the ground like rioting +garlands of a crazy May-pole dance. And, having +exhausted their ingenuity and robed themselves +in this wise in all manner of plunder, they set +fire to the wrecked train, singing and dancing in +high glee as the flames rose crackling above the +trees.</p> +<p>Bucks, with clenched hands, watched and prayed +for the arrival of the speeding relief train. The +moments passed with leaden feet and the train +had many miles to come. The despatcher continued +his encouraging messages, but did not cease +his words of caution, and, as the wreckage burned, +Bucks perceived the Indians were riding in great +numbers up the creek. Too late he realized what +it meant. They were looking for the ford and +were about to cross to his side.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XI' id='CHAPTER_XI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +</div> +<p>He lost no time in sending a final word to the +despatcher before he started for safety, and his +call was sounding when he ran back to the key.</p> +<p>“Stanley’s train has passed Chimney Butte,” +said the despatcher. “Soon be with you.”</p> +<p>Words over the wire never sounded better to the +frightened boy than those words.</p> +<p>“The Indians are crossing the creek,” Bucks +answered. “Am off for the ranch.”</p> +<p>He closed the circuit and ran out on the platform. +The warriors had found the ford and the +horses of the head braves were already leading a +file across. Bucks threw one hurried look at them; +then, summoning his strength for an endurance +run, he started, with the station building between +him and the enemy, for the ranch.</p> +<p>He had hardly got under way when, as he +reached higher ground, he saw to his consternation +a party of Indians in the bottom land between +him and safety.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></div> +<p>He was cut off. Hoping that he had not been +seen, he threw himself flat on the ground and, +turning about, crawled, behind a slight ridge that +afforded concealment, stealthily back toward +the station. The Indians up the creek had +crossed, but were riding away from the station +and toward the ranch, evidently bent on attacking +it next. The flames from the burning train +rose high above the creek. There seemed no +place to escape to and Bucks, creeping through +the sedge grass, got back to his key and called +the despatcher.</p> +<p>“Cut off from the ranch by a second party of +Indians. Will wait here for the train––where is it?”</p> +<p>A moment passed before the answer came. +“Less than ten miles from you. Passed Driftwood +Station at ten-forty.”</p> +<p>Bucks looked at his clock. Driftwood was ten +miles west. The hands stood at ten-forty-eight. +Surely, he concluded, they will be here by eleven +o’clock. Could he hold the station for twelve +minutes? Even a show of force he knew would +halt the Indians for an interval.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></div> +<p>He hastily pushed such packages of freight as +lay in the store-room up to the various windows, +as slight barricades behind which he could hide +to shoot, and with much effort got the largest +packing-case against the platform door so they +could not rush him from the creek side. For the +twentieth time he looked over his revolver, placed +a little store of cartridges behind each shelter, and +peered again out of the windows. To his horror +he perceived that the two parties had joined and +were riding in a great half-circle down on the +station. Evidently the Indians were coming after +him before they attacked the ranch. He reported +to the despatcher, and an answer came instantly. +“Stanley should be within five miles. How close +are they?”</p> +<p>“Less than half a mile.”</p> +<p>“Have you got a gun?”</p> +<p>Bucks wired, “Yes.”</p> +<p>“Can you use it?”</p> +<p>“Expect I’ll have to.”</p> +<p>“Shoot the minute they get within range. +Never mind whether you hit anybody, bang away. +What are they doing?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></div> +<p>Bucks ran around the room to look. “Closing +in,” he answered briefly.</p> +<p>“Can’t you see the train?”</p> +<p>Bucks fixed his eyes upon the western horizon. +He never had tried so hard in his life to see anything. +Yet the sunshine reflected no sign of a +friendly smoke.</p> +<p>“Nothing in sight,” he answered; “I can’t hold +out much longer.”</p> +<p>Hastily closing his key he ran to the south window. +A dozen Indians, beating the alder bushes as +they advanced, doubtless suspecting that he lay +concealed in them, were now closest. He realized +that by his very audacity in returning to the +building he had gained a few precious moments. +But the nearest Indians had already reached open +ground, two hundred yards away, and through +their short, yelping cries and their halting on the +edge of the brake, he understood they were debating +how he had escaped and wondering whether +he had gone back into the station. He lay behind +some sacks of flour watching his foes closely. +Greatly to his surprise, his panic had passed and +he felt collected. He realized that he was fighting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +for his life and meant to sell it as dearly as +possible. And he had resolved to shoot the instant +they started toward him.</p> +<p>From the table he heard the despatcher’s call, +but he no longer dared answer it. The Indians, +with a war-whoop, urged their ponies ahead and +a revolver shot rang from the station window. +It was followed almost instantly by a second and +a third. The Indians ducked low on their horses’ +necks and, wheeling, made for the willows. In +the quick dash for cover one horse stumbled and +threw his rider. The animal bolted and the Indian, +springing to his feet, ran like a deer after his +companions, but he did not escape unscathed. +Two shots followed him from the station, and the +Indian, falling with a bullet in his thigh, dragged +himself wounded into hiding.</p> +<p>A chorus of cries from far and near heralded the +opening of the encounter. Enraged by the repulse, +a larger number of Indians riding in opened +fire on the station and Bucks found himself target +for a fusillade of bullets. But protected by his +barricades he was only fearful of a charge, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +when the Indians should start to rush the station +he felt all would be over.</p> +<p>While he lay casting up his chances, and discharging +his revolver at intervals to make a showing, +the fire of the Indians slackened. This, Bucks +felt, boded no good, and reckless of his store of +cartridges he continued to blaze away whenever +he could see a bush moving.</p> +<p>It was at this moment that he heard the despatcher +calling him, and a message followed. “If +you are alive, answer me.”</p> +<p>Bucks ran to the key. The situation was hopeless. +No train was in sight as he pressed his fingers +on the button for the last time.</p> +<p>“Stopped their first advance and wounded one. +They are going to charge–––”</p> +<p>He heard a sharp chorus outside and, feeling +what it meant, sent his last word: “Good-by.” +From three sides of the open ground around the +building the Indians were riding down upon him. +Firing as fast as he could with any accuracy, he +darted from window to window, reaching the west +window last. As he looked out he saw up the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +valley the smoke of the approaching train and +understood from the fury of his enemies that they, +too, had seen it. But the sight of the train now +completely unnerved him. To lose his life with +help a few moments away was an added bitterness, +and he saw that the relief train would be too +late to save him.</p> +<p>He fired the last cartridge in his hot revolver +at the circling braves and, as he reloaded, the Indians +ran up on the platform and threw themselves +against the door. Fiendish faces peered through +the window-panes and one Indian smashed a sash +in with a war club.</p> +<p>Bucks realized that his reloading was useless. +The cartridges were, in fact, slipping through his +fingers, when, dropping his revolver, he drew Bob +Scott’s knife and backed up against the inner +office door, just as a warrior brandishing a hatchet +sprang at him.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XII' id='CHAPTER_XII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +</div> +<p>Before Bucks had time to think, a second Indian +had sprung through the open window. A feeling +of helpless rage swept over him at being cornered, +defenceless; and, expecting every instant to +be despatched with no more consideration than if +he had been a rat, he stood at bay, determined not +to be taken alive.</p> +<p>For an instant his mind worked clearly and with +the rapidity of lightning. His life swept before +him as if he were a drowning man. In that horrible +moment he even heard his call clicking from +the despatcher. Of the two Indians confronting +him, half-naked and shining with war-paint, one +appeared more ferocious than the other, and +Bucks only wondered which would attack first.</p> +<p>He had not long to wait. The first brave raised +a war club to brain him. As Bucks’s straining eye +followed the movement, the second Indian struck +the club down. Bucks understood nothing from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +the action. The quick, guttural words that followed, +the sharp dispute, the struggle of the first +savage to evade the second and brain the white +boy in spite of his antagonist––a lithe, active Indian +of great strength who held the enraged warrior +back––all of this, Bucks, bewildered, could +understand nothing of. The utmost he could surmise +was that the second warrior, from his dress +and manner of authority perhaps a chief, meant +to take him alive for torture. He watched the +contest between the two Indians until with force +and threats the chief had driven the warrior outside +and turned again upon him.</p> +<p>It was then that Bucks, desperate, hurled himself +knife in hand at the chief to engage him in +final combat. The Indian, though surprised, met +his onset skilfully and before Bucks could realize +what had occurred he had been disarmed and +tossed like a child half-way across the room.</p> +<p>Before he could move, the chief was standing +over him. “Stop!” he exclaimed, catching Bucks’s +arm in a grip of steel as the latter tried to drag +down his antagonist. “I am Iron Hand. Does a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +boy fight me?” he demanded with contempt in +every word. “See your knife.” He pointed to +the floor. “When I was wounded by the +Cheyennes you gave me venison. You have forgotten; +but the Sioux is not like the white man––Iron +Hand does not forget.”</p> +<p>A fusillade of shots and a babel of yelling from +outside interrupted his words. The chief paid no +attention to the uproar. “Your soldiers are here. +The building is on fire, but you are safe. I am +Iron Hand.”</p> +<p>So saying, and before Bucks could find his +tongue, the chief strode to the rear window, with +one blow of his arm smashed out the whole sash, +and springing lightly through the crashing glass, +disappeared.</p> +<p>Bucks, panting with confusion, sprang to his +feet. Smoke already poured in from the freight +room, and the crackling of flames and the sounds +of the fighting outside reminded Bucks of Iron +Hand’s words. He ran to the door.</p> +<p>The train had pulled up within a hundred feet +of the station and the railroad men in the coaches +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +were pouring a fire upon the Indians, under the +cover of which scouts were unloading, down a hastily +improvised chute, their horses, together with +those of such troopers as had been gathered hurriedly.</p> +<p>Bucks ran back into the office and opening his +wooden chest threw into it what he could of his +effects and tried to drag it from the burning +building out upon the platform. As he struggled +with the unwieldy box, two men ran up from +the train toward him, staring at him as if he +had been a ghost. He recognized Stanley and +Dancing.</p> +<p>“Are you hurt?” cried Stanley hastening to his +side.</p> +<p>“No,” exclaimed Bucks, his head still swimming, +“but everything will be burned.”</p> +<p>“How in the name of God, boy, have you +escaped?” demanded Stanley, as he clenched +Bucks’s shoulder in his hand. Dancing seized +the cumbersome chest and dragged it out of +danger. The Indians, jeering, as they retreated, +at the railroad men, made no attempt to continue +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span> +the attack, but rode away content with the destruction +of the train and the station.</p> +<p>Stanley, assured of Bucks’s safety, though he +wasted no time in waiting for an explanation of +it, directed the men to save what they could out +of the station––it was too late to save the building––and +hurried away to see to the unloading of +the horses.</p> +<p>Bill Dancing succeeded in rescuing the telegraph +instruments and with Bucks’s help he got the +wires rigged upon a cracker-box outside where the +operator could report the story to the now desperate +despatcher. The scouts and troopers were +already in the saddle and, leading the way for the +men, gave chase across the bottoms to the Indians.</p> +<p>Bob Scott, riding past Bucks reined up for a +moment. “Got pretty warm for you, Bucks––eh? +How did you get through?”</p> +<p>Bucks jumped toward him. “Bob!” he exclaimed, +grasping his arm. “It was Iron Hand.”</p> +<p>“Iron Hand!” echoed Bob, lifting his eyebrows. +“Brulés, then. It will be a long chase. What did +he say?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></div> +<p>“Why, we talked pretty fast,” stammered +Bucks. “He spoke about the venison but never +said a blamed word about my fixing his arm.”</p> +<p>Bob laughed as he struck his horse and galloped +on to pass the news to Stanley. A detail was +left to clear the cotton-woods across the creek +and guard the railroad men against possible attack +while clearing the wreck. The body of the unfortunate +brakeman was brought across the bridge +and laid in the baggage car and a tent was pitched +to serve as a temporary station for Bucks.</p> +<p>While this was being done, Bob Scott, who had +ridden farthest up the creek, appeared leading his +horse and talking to a white man who was walking +beside him. He had found the conductor of the +wrecked train, Pat Francis, who, young though +he was, had escaped the Indians long enough to +reach a cave in the creek bank and whose rifle +shots Bucks had heard, while Francis was holding +the Sioux at bay during the fight. The plucky +conductor, who was covered with dust, was +greeted with acclamations.</p> +<p>“He claims,” volunteered Scott, speaking to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +Stanley, “he could have stood them off all +day.”</p> +<p>Francis’s eyes fell regretfully on the dead brakeman. +“If that boy had minded what I said and +come with me he would have been alive now.”</p> +<p>The wrecking train, with a gang of men from +Medicine Bend, arrived late in the afternoon, and +at supper-time a courier rode in from Stanley’s +scouting party with despatches for General Park. +Stanley reported the chase futile. As Bob Scott +had predicted, the Brulés had burned the ranch +and craftily scattered the moment they reached +the sand-hills. Instead of a single trail to follow, +Stanley found fifty. Only his determination to give +the Indians a punishment that they would remember +held the pursuing party together, and three days +afterward he fought a battle with the wily raiders, +surprised in a canyon on the Frenchman River, +which, though indecisive, gave Iron Hand’s band +a wholesome respect for the stubborn engineer.</p> +<p>The train service under the attacks of the Indians +thus repeated, fell into serious demoralization, +and an armed guard of regular soldiers rode all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +trains for months after the Goose Creek attack. +Bucks was given a guard for his own lonely and +exposed position in the person of Bob Scott, the +man of all men the young operator would have +wished for. And at intervals he read from his +favorite novel to the scout, who still questioned +whether it was a true story.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIII' id='CHAPTER_XIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +</div> +<p>With Bob Scott to lead an occasional hunting +trip, Bucks found the time go fast at Goose Creek +and no excitement came again until later in the +summer.</p> +<p>Where Goose Creek breaks through the sand-hills +the country is flat, and, when swollen with +spring rains, the stream itself has the force and +fury of a mountain river. Then summer comes; +the rain clouds hang no longer over the Black +Hills, continuing sunshine parches the face of the +great plains, and the rushing and turbulent Goose +Creek ignominiously evaporates––either ascending +to the skies in vapor or burrowing obscurely under +the sprawling sands that lie within its course. +Only stagnant pools and feeble rivulets running +in widely separated channels––hiding under osiers +or lurking within shady stretches of a friendly +bank––remain to show where in April the noisy +Goose engulfs everything within reach of its foaming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +wings. The creek bed becomes in midsummer +a mere sandy ford that may be crossed by a +child––a dry map that prints the running feet of +snipe and plover, the creeping tread of the mink +and the muskrat, and the slouching trail of the +coyote and the wolf.</p> +<p>Yet there is treachery in the Goose even in its +apparent repose, and the unwary emigrant sometimes +comes to grief upon its treacherous bed. +The sands of the Goose have swallowed up more +than one heedless buffalo, and the Indian knows +them too well to trust them at all.</p> +<p>When the railroad bridge was put across the +creek, the difficulties of securing it were very considerable +and Brodie, the chief engineer, was in +the end forced to rely upon temporary foundations. +Trainmen and engineers for months carried +“slow” orders for Goose Creek bridge, and +Bucks grew weary with warnings from the despatchers +to careless enginemen about crossing it.</p> +<p>Among the worst offenders in running his engine +too fast over Goose Creek bridge was Dan +Baggs, who, breathing fire through his bristling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +red whiskers and flashing it from his watery blue +eyes, feared nobody but Indians, and obeyed reluctantly +everybody connected with the railroad. +Moreover, he never hesitated to announce that +when “they didn’t like the way he ran his engine +they could get somebody else to run it.”</p> +<p>Baggs’s great failing was that, while he often ran +his train too fast, he wasted so much time at stations +that he was always late. And it was said of +him that the only instance in which he ever reached +the end of his division on time was the day he ran +away from Iron Hand’s band of Sioux at Goose +Creek––on that occasion he had made, without a +doubt, a record run.</p> +<p>But when, one hot afternoon in August, Baggs +left Medicine Bend with a light engine for Fort +Park, where he was to pick up a train-load of ties, +he had no thought of making further pioneer railroad +history. His engine had been behaving so +well that his usual charges of inefficiency against +it had not for a long time been registered with the +roundhouse foreman, and Dan Baggs, dreaming in +the heat and sunshine of nothing worse than losing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +his scalp to the Indians or winning a fortune +at cards––gambling was another of his failings––was +pounding lightly along over the rails when +he reached, without heeding it, Goose Creek +bridge.</p> +<p>There were those who averred that after his +experience with Iron Hand he always ran faster +across the forbidden bridge than anywhere else. +On this occasion Baggs bowled merrily along the +trestle and was getting toward the middle of the +river when the pony trucks jumped the rail and +the drivers dropped on the ties. Dan Baggs yelled +to his fireman.</p> +<p>It was unnecessary. Delaroo, the fireman, a +quiet but prudent fellow, was already standing in +the gangway prepared for an emergency. He +sprang, not a minute too soon, from the engine +and lighted in the sand. But Dan Baggs’s fixed +habit of being behind time chained him to his +seat an instant too long. The bulky engine, with +its tremendous impetus, shot from the trestle and +plunged like a leviathan clear of the bridge and +down into the wet sand of the creek-bed.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></div> +<p>The fireman scrambled to his feet and ran forward, +expecting to find his engineman hurt or +killed. What was his surprise to behold Baggs, +uninjured, on his feet and releasing the safety-valve +of his fallen locomotive to prevent an explosion. +The engine lay on its side. The crash +of the breaking timbers, followed by a deafening +blast of escaping steam, startled Bucks and, with +Bob Scott, he ran out of the station. As he saw +the spectacle in the river, he caught his breath. +He lived to see other wrecks––some appalling +ones––but this was his first, and the shock of seeing +Dan Baggs’s engine lying prone in the river, +trumpeting forth a cloud of steam, instead of +thundering across the bridge as he normally saw +it every day, was an extraordinary one.</p> +<p>Filled with alarm, he ran toward the bridge +expecting that the worst had happened to the +engineman and fireman. But his amazement +grew rather than lessened when he saw Delaroo +and Baggs running for their lives toward him. +He awaited them uneasily.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” demanded Bucks, as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +Baggs, well in the lead, came within hailing distance.</p> +<p>“Matter!” panted Baggs, not slackening his +pace. “Matter! Look at my engine! Indians!”</p> +<p>“Indians, your grandmother!” retorted Bob +Scott mildly. “There’s not an Indian within +forty miles––what’s the matter with you?”</p> +<p>“They wrecked us, Bob,” declared Baggs, +pointing to his roaring engine; “see for yourself, +man. Them cotton-woods are full of Indians +right now.”</p> +<p>“Full of rabbits!” snorted Bob Scott. “You +wrecked yourself by running too fast.”</p> +<p>“Delaroo,” demanded Dan Baggs, pointing +dramatically at his taciturn fireman, who had +now overtaken him, “how fast was I running?”</p> +<p>Peter Delaroo, an Indian half-blood himself, returned +a disconcerting answer. “As fast as you +could, I reckon.” He understood at once that +Baggs had raised a false alarm to protect himself +from blame for the accident, and resented being +called upon to support an absurd story.</p> +<p>Baggs stood his ground. “If you don’t find an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +Indian has done this,” he asserted, addressing +Bob Scott with indignation, “you can have my +pay check.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” returned Bob, meditatively. “I reckon +an Indian did it, but you are the Indian.”</p> +<p>“Come, stop your gabble, you boys!” blustered +the doughty engineman, speaking to everybody +and with a show of authority. “Bucks, notify +the despatcher I’m in the river.”</p> +<p>“Get back to your engine, then,” said Scott. +“Don’t ask Bucks to send in a false report. And +afterward,” suggested Scott, “you and I, Dan, +can go over and clean the Indians out of the +cotton-woods.”</p> +<p>Baggs took umbrage at the suggestion, and no +amount of chaffing from Scott disconcerted him, +but after Bucks reported the catastrophe to Medicine +Bend the wires grew warm. Baxter was very +angry. A crew was got together at Medicine +Bend, and a wrecking-train made up with a +gang of bridge and track men and despatched to +the scene of the disaster. The operating department +was so ill equipped to cope with any kind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +of a wreck that it was after midnight before +the train got under way.</p> +<p>The sun had hardly risen next morning, when +Bob Scott, without any words of explanation, ran +into Bucks’s room, woke him hurriedly, and, bidding +him dress quickly, ran out. It took only a +minute for Bucks to spring from his cot and get +into his clothes and he hastened out of doors to +learn what the excitement was about. Scott was +walking fast down toward the bridge. Bucks +joined him.</p> +<p>“What is it, Bob?” he asked hastily. “Indians?”</p> +<p>“Indians?” echoed Bob scornfully. “I guess +not this time. I’ve heard of Indians stealing +pretty nearly everything on earth––but not this. +No Indian in this country, not even Turkey Leg, +ever stole a locomotive.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean Dan Baggs’s engine is gone.”</p> +<p>Bucks’s face turned blank with amazement. +“Gone?” he echoed incredulously. He looked at +Scott with reproach. “You are joking me.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></div> +<p>“See if you can find it,” returned Scott tersely.</p> +<p>As they hastened on, Bucks looked to the spot +where the engine had lain the night before. It +was no longer there.</p> +<p>He was too stunned to ask further questions. +The two strode along the ties in silence. Eagerly +Bucks ran to the creek bank and scanned more +closely the sandy bed. It was there that the +wrecked engine and tender had lain the night before. +The sand showed no disturbance whatever. +It was as smooth as a table. But nothing was to +be seen of the engine or tender. These had disappeared +as completely as if an Aladdin’s slave, at +his master’s bidding, had picked them from their +resting place and set them on top of some distant +sand-hill.</p> +<p>“Bob,” demanded Bucks, breathless, “what +does it mean?”</p> +<p>“It means the company is out one brand-new +locomotive.”</p> +<p>“But what has happened?” asked Bucks, rubbing +his eyes to make sure he was not dreaming. +“Where is the engine?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></div> +<p>Scott pointed to the spot where the engine had +lain. “It is in that quicksand,” said he.</p> +<p>The engine, during the night, had, in fact, sunk +completely into the sand. No trace was left of +it or of its tender. Not a wheel or cab corner +remained to explain; all had mysteriously and +completely disappeared.</p> +<p>“Great Heavens, Bob!” exclaimed Bucks. +“How will they <i>ever</i> get it out?”</p> +<p>“The only way they’ll ever get it out, I reckon, +is by keeping Dan Baggs digging there till he digs +it out.”</p> +<p>“Dan Baggs never could dig that out––how +long would it take him?”</p> +<p>“About a hundred and seventy-five years.”</p> +<p>As Scott spoke, the two heard footsteps behind +them. Baggs and Delaroo, who had slept +at the section-house, were coming down the track. +“Baggs,” said Scott ironically, as the sleepy-looking +engineman approached, “you were right +about the Indians being in the cotton-woods last +night.”</p> +<p>“I knew I was right,” exclaimed Baggs, nodding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +rapidly and brusquely. “Next time you’ll +take a railroad man’s word, I guess. Where are +they?” he added, looking apprehensively around. +“What have they done?”</p> +<p>“They have stolen your engine,” answered Scott +calmly. He pointed to the river bed. Baggs +stared; then running along the bank he looked +up-stream and down and came back sputtering.</p> +<p>“Why––what––how––what in time! Where’s +the engine?”</p> +<p>“Indians,” remarked Scott sententiously, looking +wisely down upon the sphinx-like quicksand. +“Indians, Dan. They must have loaded the engine +on their ponies during the night––did you +hear anything?” he demanded, turning to Bucks. +Bucks shook his head. “I thought I did,” continued +Scott. “Thought I heard something––what’s +that?”</p> +<p>Baggs jumped. All were ready to be startled +at anything––for even Scott, in spite of his irony, +had been as much astounded as any one at the +first sight of the empty bed of sand. It was +enough to make any one feel queerish. The noise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span> +they heard was the distant rumble of the wrecking-train.</p> +<p>In the east the sun was bursting over the sand-hills +into a clear sky. Bucks ran to the station to +report the train and the disappearance of the engine. +When he had done this he ran back to the +bridge. The wrecking-train had pulled up near +at hand and the greater part of the men, congregated +in curious groups on the bridge, were +talking excitedly and watching several men down +on the sand, who with spades were digging vigorously +about the spot which Baggs and Delaroo +indicated as the place where the engine had fallen. +Others from time to time joined them, as they +scraped out wells and trenches in the moist sand. +These filled with water almost as rapidly as they +were opened.</p> +<p>Urged by their foreman, a dozen additional men +joined the toilers. They dug in lines and in circles, +singly and in squads, broadening their field of +prospecting as the laughter and jeers of their companions +watching from the bridge spurred them to +further toil. But not the most diligent of their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +efforts brought to light a single trace of the missing +engine.</p> +<p>The wrecking crew was mystified. Many refused +to believe the engine had ever fallen off the +bridge. But there was the broken track! They +could not escape the evidence of their eyes, even +if they did scoff at the united testimony of the +two men that had been on the engine when it +leaped from the bridge and the two that had afterward +seen it lying in the sand.</p> +<p>The track and bridge men without more ado +set to work to repair the damage done the track +and bridge. A volley of messages came from +head-quarters. At noon a special car, with Colonel +Stanley and the division heads arrived to +investigate.</p> +<p>The digging was planned and directed on a +larger scale and resumed with renewed vigor. +Sheet piling was attempted. Every expedient was +resorted to that Stanley’s scientific training could +suggest to bring to light the buried treasure––for +an engine in those days, and so far from locomotive +works, was very literally a treasure to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +railroad company. Stanley himself was greatly +upset. He paced the ties above where the men +were digging, directing and encouraging them doggedly, +but very red in the face and contemplating +the situation with increasing vexation. He stuck +persistently to the work till darkness set in. Meantime, +the track had been opened and the wrecking-train +crossed the bridge and took the passing track. +The moon rose full over the broad valley and the +silent plains. Men still moved with lanterns under +the bridge. Bucks, after a hard day’s work +at the key, was invited for supper to Stanley’s +car, where the foremen had assembled to lay new +plans for the morrow. But Bob Scott, when Bucks +told him, shook his head.</p> +<p>“They are wasting their work,” he murmured. +“The company is ‘out.’ That engine is half-way +to China by this time.”</p> +<p>It might, at least, as well have been, as far as +the railroad company was concerned. The digging +and sounding and scraping proved equally useless. +The men dug down almost as deep as the piling +that supported the bridge itself––it was in vain. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +In the morning the sun smiled at their efforts and +again at night the moon rose mysteriously upon +them, and in the distant sand-hills a thousand coyotes +yelped a requiem for the lost locomotive. +But no human eye ever saw so much as a bolt of +the great machine again.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIV' id='CHAPTER_XIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +</div> +<p>The loss of the engine at Goose Creek brought +an unexpected relief to Bucks. His good work in +the emergency earned for him a promotion. He +was ordered to report to Medicine Bend for assignment, +and within a week a new man appeared +at Goose Creek to relieve him.</p> +<p>There was little checking up to do. Less than +thirty minutes gave Bucks time to answer all of +his successor’s questions and pack his trunk. He +might have slept till morning and taken a passenger +train to Medicine Bend, but the prospect of +getting away from Goose Creek at once was too +tempting to dismiss. A freight train of bridge +timbers pulled across the bridge just as Bucks was +ready to start. Pat Francis, the doughty conductor, +who, single-handed, had held Iron Hand’s +braves at bay, was in charge of the train. He offered +Bucks a bench and blanket in the caboose +for the night, and promised to have him in Medicine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +Bend in the morning; Bucks, nothing loath, +accepted. His trunk was slung aboard and the +train pulled out for Medicine Bend.</p> +<p>The night proved unseasonably cold. Francis +built a blazing fire in the caboose stove and afterward +shared his hearty supper with his guest. +As the train thundered and rumbled slowly over +the rough track, the conductor, while Bucks +stretched out on the cushions, entertained him +with stories of his experiences on the railroad +frontier––not suspecting that before morning he +should furnish for his listener one of the strangest +of them.</p> +<p>Bucks curled up in his blanket late, but, in spite +of unaccustomed surroundings and the pitch and +lurch of the caboose, which was hardly less than +the tossing of a ship in a gale, Bucks dozed while +his companion and the brakeman watched. The +latter, a large, heavy fellow, was a busy man, as +the calls for brakes––and only hand-brakes were +then known––were continual. There were no other +passengers, and except for the frequent blasts of +the engine whistle the night passed quietly enough.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></div> +<p>Bucks dreamed of fighting bears with Scuffy, +and found himself repeatedly rolling down precipitous +mountains without landing successfully +anywhere. Then he quieted into a heavy, unbroken +sleep and found himself among the hills +of Alleghany, hunting rabbits that were constantly +changing into antelope and escaping him. Fatigued +with his unceasing efforts, he woke.</p> +<p>A gray light, half dusk, revealed the outlines of +the cab interior, as he opened his eyes, and a thundering, +rumbling sound that rang in his ears and +seemed everywhere about him cleared his mind +and brought him back to his situation.</p> +<p>It was cold, and he looked at the stove. The +fire was out. On the opposite side of the cab the +brakeman lay on the cushions fast asleep. Outside, +the thundering noises came continuously from +everywhere at once. It did not occur to Bucks +that the caboose was standing still. It trembled +and vibrated more or less, but he noticed there +was no longer any lurching and thought they had +reached remarkably smooth track. They were +certainly not standing still, he assured himself, as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +he rubbed his eyes to wake up. But perhaps they +might be in the yards at Medicine Bend, with +other trains rolling past them.</p> +<p>Somewhat confused he raised the curtain of the +window near him. The sky was overcast and day +was breaking. He rose higher on his elbow to +look more carefully. Everywhere that his eye +could reach toward the horizon the earth seemed +in motion, rising and falling in great waves. Was +it an earthquake? He rubbed his eyes. It seemed +as if everywhere thousands of heads were tossing, +and from this continual tossing and trampling +came the thunder and vibration. Moreover, the +caboose was not moving; of this he felt sure. +Amazed, and only half-awake, he concluded that +the train must have left the track and dropped +into a river. The uncertainty of his vision was +due, he now saw, to a storm that had swept the +plains. It was blowing, with a little snow, and in +the midst of the snow the mysterious waves were +everywhere rising and falling.</p> +<p>Bucks put the curtain completely aside. The +sound of his feet striking the floor aroused the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +conductor, who rose from his cushion with a +start. “I’ve been asleep,” he exclaimed, rubbing +his eyes. “Where are we, Bucks?”</p> +<p>“That is what I am trying to figure out.”</p> +<p>“Where is the brakeman?” demanded Francis. +As he asked the question he saw the big fellow +asleep in the corner. Francis shook him roughly. +“That comes of depending on some one else,” he +muttered to Bucks. “I went to sleep on his promise +to watch for an hour––he knew I had been up +all last night and told me to take a nap. You +see what happened. The moment I went to +sleep, he went to sleep,” exclaimed Francis in disgust. +“Wake up!” he continued brusquely to +the drowsy brakeman. “Where are we? What +have we stopped for? What’s all this noise?” +Though he asked the questions fast, he expected +no answer to any of them from the confused trainman +and waited for none. Instead, he threw up +a curtain and looked out. “Thunder and guns! +Buffaloes!” he cried, and seizing his lantern ran +out of the caboose door and climbed the roof-ladder. +Bucks was fast upon his heels.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></div> +<p>The freight train stood upon a wide plain and +in the midst of thousands of buffaloes travelling +south. As far as their eyes could reach in all +directions, the astonished railroad men beheld a +sea of moving buffaloes. Without further delay +Francis, followed by Bucks, started along the running +boards for the head end of the train.</p> +<p>The conductor found his train intact; but when +he reached the head end he could find neither +engine, tender, nor crew. All had disappeared. +Running down the ladder of the head box-car, the +conductor examined the draw-bar for evidence of +an accident. The coupling was apparently uninjured +but the tender and engine were gone. +Francis, more upset than Bucks had ever seen +him, or ever afterward saw him, walked moodily +back to the caboose. What humiliated him more +than the strange predicament in which he found +himself was that he had trusted to a subordinate +and gone to sleep in his caboose while on duty.</p> +<p>“Serves me right,” he muttered, knitting his +brows. “Brakeman,” he added sternly, “take +your lantern and flags and get out behind. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +minute the buffaloes get across the track, go back +two hundred yards and protect us. I will watch +the head end. While these buffaloes are crossing +they will be protection enough. Soon as it is +daylight we will find out where we are.”</p> +<p>The snow continued falling and the buffaloes +drifted south with the storm, which was squally. +Every moment, as the sky and landscape lightened, +Francis, whom Bucks had followed forward, expected +to see the last of the moving herd. But an +hour passed and a second hour without showing +any gaps in the enormous fields. And the brighter +the daylight grew, the more buffaloes they could +see.</p> +<p>Francis stormed at the situation, but he could +do nothing. Finally, and as hope was deserting +him, he heard the distant tooting of an engine +whistle. It grew louder and louder until Bucks +could hear the ringing of a bell and the hissing +of the open cylinder cocks of a slow-moving +locomotive. Gaps could now be discerned in the +great herds of buffaloes, and through the blowing +snow the uncertain outlines of the backing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +engine could dimly be seen. Francis angrily +watched the approaching engine, and, as soon as +it had cleared the last of the stumbling buffaloes +on the track, he walked forward to meet it and +greeted the engineman roughly.</p> +<p>“What do you mean by setting my train out +here on the main track in the middle of the night?” +he demanded ferociously, and those that knew Pat +Francis never wanted to add to his anger when +it was aroused.</p> +<p>“Don’t get excited,” returned Dan Baggs calmly, +for it was the redoubtable Baggs who held the +throttle. “I found I was getting short of water. +We are just coming to Blackwood Hill and I knew +I could never make Blackwood Siding with the +train. So I uncoupled and ran to the Blackwood +tank for water. We are all right now. Couple us +up. If I hadn’t got water, we should have been +hung up here till we got another engine.”</p> +<p>“Even so,” retorted Francis, “you needn’t have +been all night about it.”</p> +<p>“But when we started back there were about +ten million buffaloes on the track. If I had been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +heading into them with the cow-catcher I shouldn’t +have been afraid. But I had to back into them, +and if I had crippled one it would have upset the +tender.”</p> +<p>“Back her up,” commanded Francis curtly, +“and pull us out of here.”</p> +<p>Meantime there was much excitement at the +despatchers’ office in Medicine Bend over the lost +train. It had been reported out of White Horse +Station on time, and had not reported at Blackwood. +For hours the despatcher waited vainly +for some word from the bridge timbers. When +the train reported at Blackwood Station, the +message of Francis explaining the cause of the +tie-up seemed like a voice from the tombs. But +the strain was relieved and the train made fast +time from Blackwood in. About nine o’clock in +the morning it whistled for the Medicine Bend +yards and a few moments later Bucks ran upstairs +in the station building to report for assignment.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XV' id='CHAPTER_XV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +</div> +<p>He found Baxter needing a man in the office, and +Bucks was asked to substitute until Collins, the +despatcher who was ill, could take his trick again. +This brought Bucks where he was glad to be, directly +under Stanley’s eye, but it brought also +new responsibilities, and opened his mind to the +difficulties of operating a new and already over-taxed +line in the far West, where reliable men and +available equipment were constantly at a premium.</p> +<p>The problem of getting and keeping good men +was the hardest that confronted the operating +department, and the demoralization of the railroad +men from the life in Medicine Bend grew +steadily worse as the new town attracted additional +parasites. When Bucks, after his return, +took his first walk after supper up Front Street, +he was not surprised at this. Medicine Bend was +more than ten times as noisy, and if it were possible +to add any vice to its viciousness this, too, it +would seem, had been done.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></div> +<p>As was his custom, he walked to the extreme +end of Front Street and turning started back for +the station, when he encountered Baxter, the chief +despatcher. Baxter saw Bucks first and spoke.</p> +<p>“I thought you were taking your sleep at this +time,” returned Bucks, greeting him.</p> +<p>“So I should be,” he replied, “but we are in +trouble. Dan Baggs is to take out the passenger +train to-night, and no one can find him. He is +somewhere up here in one of these dives and has +forgotten all about his engine. It is enough to +set a man crazy to have to run trains with such +cattle. Bucks, suppose you take one side of the +street while I take the other, and help me hunt +him up.”</p> +<p>“What shall we do?”</p> +<p>“Look in every door all the way down-street +till we find him. If we don’t get the fellow on his +engine, there will be no train out till midnight. +Say nothing to anybody and answer no questions; +just find him.”</p> +<p>Baxter started down the right-hand side of the +long street and Bucks took the left-hand side. It +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +was queer business for Bucks, and the sights that +met him at every turn were enough to startle one +stouter than he. He controlled his disgust and +ignored the questions sometimes hurled at him by +drunken men and women, intent only on getting +his eye on the irresponsible Baggs.</p> +<p>Half-way down toward the square he reached a +dance hall. The doors were spread wide open and +from within came a din of bad music, singing, and +noise of every kind.</p> +<p>Bucks entered the place with some trepidation. +In the rear of the large room was a raised platform +extending the entire width of it. At one end +of the platform stood a piano which a man pounded +incessantly and fiercely. Other performers were +singing and dancing to entertain a motley and disorderly +audience seated in a still more disorderly +array before them.</p> +<p>At the right of the room a long bar stretched +from the street back as far as the stage, and standing +in front of this, boisterous groups of men were +smoking and drinking, or wrangling in tipsy fashion. +The opposite side of the big room was given +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +over to gambling devices of every sort, and this +space was filled with men sitting about small +tables and others sitting and standing along one +side of long tables, at each of which one man was +dealing cards, singly, out of a metal case held in +his hand. Other men clustered about revolving +wheels where, oblivious of everything going on +around them, they watched with feverish anxiety +a ball thrown periodically into the disc by the +man operating the wheel.</p> +<p>Bucks walked slowly down the room the full +length of the bar, scanning each group of men +as he passed. He crossed the room behind the +chairs where the audience of the singers and dancers +sat. He noticed, when he reached this, the +difference in the faces he was scrutinizing. At the +gambling tables the men saw and heard nothing of +what went on about them. He walked patiently +on his quest from group to group, unobserved by +those about him, but without catching a sight of +the elusive engineman. As he reached the end +of the gambling-room, he hesitated for a moment +and had finished his quest when, drawn by curiosity, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +he stopped for an instant to watch the scene +about the roulette wheels.</p> +<p>Almost instantly he heard a sharp voice behind +him. “What are you doing here?”</p> +<p>Bucks, surprised, turned to find himself confronted +by the black-bearded passenger conductor, +David Hawk. Baxter’s admonition to say nothing +of what he was doing confused Bucks for an instant, +and he stammered some evasive answer.</p> +<p>Hawk, blunt and stern in word and manner, +followed the evasion up sharply: “Don’t you know +this is no place for you?” and before Bucks could +answer, Hawk had fixed him with his piercing eyes.</p> +<p>“You want to hang around a gambling-table, do +you? You want to watch how it is done and try +it yourself sometime? You want to see how much +smarter you can play the game than these sheep-heads +you are watching?</p> +<p>“Don’t talk to me,” he exclaimed sternly as +Bucks tried to explain. “I’ve seen boys in these +places before. I know where they end. If I +ever catch you in a gambling-den again I’ll throw +you neck and heels into the river.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span></div> +<p>The words fell upon Bucks like a cloud-burst. +Before he could return a word or catch his breath +Hawk strode away.</p> +<p>As Bucks stood collecting his wits, Baggs, the +man for whom he was looking, passed directly +before his eyes. Bucks sprang forward, caught +Baggs by the arm, and led him toward the door, +as he gave him Baxter’s message. Baggs, listening +somewhat sheepishly, made no objection to +going down to take his train and walked through +the front door with Bucks out into the street.</p> +<p>As they did this, a red-faced man who was +standing on the doorstep seized Bucks’s sleeve +and attempted to jerk him across the sidewalk. +Bucks shook himself free and turned on his assailant. +He needed no introduction to the hard +cheeks, one of which was split by a deep scar. +It was Perry, Rebstock’s crony, whom Stanley had +driven out of Sellersville on the Spider Water.</p> +<p>“What are you doing around here interfering +with my business?” he demanded of Bucks +harshly. “I’ve watched you spying around. The +next time I catch you trying to pull a customer +out of my place, I’ll knock your head off.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></div> +<p>Bucks eyed the bully with gathering wrath. +He was already upset mentally, and taken so +suddenly and unawares lost his temper and his +caution. “If you do, it will be the last head +you knock off in Medicine Bend,” he retorted. +“When I find trainmen in your joint that are +needed on their runs, I’ll pull them out every +time. The safest thing you can do is to keep +quiet. If the railroad men ever get started after +you, you red-faced bully, they’ll run you and your +whole tribe into the river again.”</p> +<p>It was a foolish defiance and might have cost +him his life, though Bucks knew he was well within +the truth in what he said. Among the railroad +men the feeling against the gamblers was constantly +growing in bitterness. Perry instantly attempted +to draw a revolver, when a man who had +been watching the scene unobserved stepped close +enough between him and Bucks to catch Perry’s +eye. It was Dave Hawk again. What he had just +heard had explained things to him and he stood +now grimly laughing at the enraged gambler.</p> +<p>“Good for the boy,” he exclaimed. “Want to +get strung up, do you, Perry? Fire that gun just +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +once and the vigilantes will have a rope around +your neck in five minutes.”</p> +<p>Perry, though furious, realized the truth of +what Hawk said. He poured a torrent of abuse +upon Bucks, but made no further effort to use his +gun. The dreaded word “vigilantes” had struck +terror to the heart of a man who had once been +in their hands and escaped only by an accident.</p> +<p>“You know what he said is so, don’t you?” +laughed Hawk savagely. “What? You don’t?” +he demanded, as Perry tried to face him down. +“You’ll be lucky, when that time comes, if you +don’t get your heels tangled up with a telegraph +pole before you reach the river,” concluded Hawk +tauntingly.</p> +<p>“Let him keep away from me if he doesn’t want +trouble,” snarled the discomfited gambler, eying +Bucks threateningly. But he was plainly out-faced, +and retreated, grumbling, toward the dance-hall +steps.</p> +<p>Dan Baggs, at the first sign of hostilities, had +fled. Bucks, afraid of losing him, now followed, +leaving Hawk still abusing the gambler, but when +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +he overtook the engineman he found he was going, +as he had promised, straight to the roundhouse.</p> +<p>It was almost time for the night trick. Bucks +hastened upstairs to the despatchers’ office and reported +to Baxter, who had returned ahead of him +and was elated at Bucks’s success. Before the +young substitute took up his train-sheet, he told +the chief despatcher of how strangely the conductor, +Dave Hawk, had talked to him.</p> +<p>“He has a reason for it,” responded Baxter +briefly.</p> +<p>“What reason?”</p> +<p>“There is as good a railroad man as ever lived,” +said Baxter, referring to the black-bearded conductor. +“He is the master of us all in the handling +of trains. He could be anything anybody is +on this line to-day that he might want to be but +for one thing. If he hadn’t ruined his own life, +Dave Hawk could be superintendent here. He +knows whereof he speaks, Bucks.”</p> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I mean he is a gambler. Did you hear the +shooting after I left you?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></div> +<p>“No, what was it?”</p> +<p>“It must have been while you were in Perry’s. +Not five minutes after we parted, a saloon-keeper +shot a woman down right in front of me; I was +standing less than ten feet from her when she fell,” +said the despatcher, recounting the incident. “But +I was too late to protect her; and I should probably +have been shot myself if I had tried to.”</p> +<p>“Was the brute arrested?”</p> +<p>“Arrested! Who arrests anybody in this town?”</p> +<p>“How long is this sort of thing going on?” asked +Bucks, sitting down and signing a transfer.</p> +<p>“How long!” echoed the despatcher, taking up +his hat to go to his room. “I don’t know how +long. But when their time comes––God help that +crowd up Front Street!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVI' id='CHAPTER_XVI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +</div> +<p>Following Collins’s return to duty, Bucks was +assigned to a new western station, Point of Rocks. +It was in the mountains and where Casement, now +laying five and even six miles of track a day, had +just turned over a hundred and eighty miles to +the operating department. Bucks, the first operator +ever sent to the lonely place afterward famous +in railroad story, put his trunk aboard a +freight train the next morning and started for his +destination.</p> +<p>The ride through the mountains was an inspiration. +A party of army officers and their wives, +preferring to take the day run for the scenery, +were bound for one of the mountain posts, Fort +Bridger, and they helped to make the long day +journey in the cabin car, with its frequent stops +and its laborious engine-puffing over the mountain +grades, a pleasant one. The women made +coffee on a cabin stove and Bucks, the only other +passenger, was invited to lunch with them.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></div> +<p>When the train stopped at Point of Rocks and +Bucks got off, the sun was setting, and though the +thin, clear air brought the distant mountains very +close, the prospect was not a cheerful one. In +every direction mountain ranges, some brown and +others snow-capped, rose upon the horizon. Where +the railroad line made a tortuous way among the +barren buttes that dotted the uneven plain all +about, there was not a spear of grass nor a living +thing except the stunted sage-brush of the alkali +plain. In the midst of this desert a great upheaval +of granite rock thrown squarely across the direct +path of the railroad opposed its straight course +and made a long reverse curve necessary. This +was Point of Rocks.</p> +<p>“You,” said Stanley once to Bucks, “may +live to see this railroad built across these mountains +as it should be built. There will be no +sharp curves then, no heavy grades such as +these our little engines have to climb now. Great +compound locomotives will pull trains of a hundred +cars up grades of less than one per cent and +around two and three degree curves. These high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +wooden bridges will all be replaced by big rock +and earth fills. Tunnels will pierce the heights +that cannot be scaled by easy grades, and electric +power supplied by these mountain streams themselves +will take the place of steam made by coal +and hauled hundreds of miles to give us costly +motive power. You may live, Bucks, to see all of +this; I shall not. When it comes, think of me.”</p> +<p>But there was no thought now in Bucks’s mind +of what the future might bring to that forbidding +desert. He saw only a rude station building, just +put up, and as the train disappeared, he dragged +into this his trunk and hand-bag, and in that act +a new outpost of civilization was established in the +great West.</p> +<p>He called up Medicine Bend, reported, lighted +a fire in the little stove, and the spot in the desert +known now to men as Point of Rocks for the first +time in the story of the world became a part of +it––was linked to the world itself.</p> +<p>But the place was lonely beyond words, and +Bucks had a hard time to keep it from being too +much so for him. He walked at different times over +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +the country in every direction, and one night after +a crudely prepared supper he strolled out on the +platform, desperate for something to do. Desolation +marked the landscape everywhere. He +wandered aimlessly across the track and seeing +nothing better to interest him began climbing +Point of Rocks.</p> +<p>The higher he climbed the more absorbed he +became. Youth and strength lent ardor to the +ascent, and Bucks, soon forgetting everything +below, was scaling the granite pile that towered +above him. For thirty minutes, without a halt, he +continued to climb, and reaching after a while +what seemed the highest ledge of the rocky spur, +he walked out upon it to the very edge and was +rewarded for his labor with a magnificent panorama +of the mountain divide.</p> +<p>In the west the sky was still golden and, though +clouds appeared to be banking heavily in the +north, the view of the distant peaks was unobstructed. +From where he sat he could almost +have thrown a stone into one tiny mountain +stream that cut a silver path toward the setting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +sun, and another, a hundred yards away, that +flowed gently toward the rising sun. And he +knew––for Bill Dancing had told him––that the +one rill emptied at last into the Pacific Ocean, +and the other into the Atlantic Ocean. Alongside +these tiny streams he could plainly trace the overland +trail of the emigrant wagons, and, cutting in +straighter lines, but following the same general direction, +lay the right-of-way of the new transcontinental +railroad.</p> +<p>Beyond, in every direction, stretched great plateaus, +and above these rugged mountain chains, +lying in what seemed the eternal solitude of the +vast desert. He was alone with the sunset, and +stood for some moments silenced by the scene +before him. When a sound did at length reach +his ear as he sat spellbound, it brought him back +to himself with the suddenness of a shock.</p> +<p>At first he heard only distant echoes of a short, +muffled blow, irregularly repeated and seeming +familiar to the ear. As he speculated upon what +the sound might be, it grew gradually plainer and +came seemingly nearer. He bent his eyes down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +the valley to the west and scanned the wagon-trail +and the railroad track as far as he could in +the dusk, but could see nothing. Then the muffle +of the sound was at once lifted. It came from +the other direction, and, turning his eyes, he saw +emerging from a small canyon that hid the trail +to the east, a covered emigrant wagon, drawn by +a large team of horses and driven by a man sitting +in front of the hood, making its way slowly +up the road toward the station.</p> +<p>The heavy play of the wheel-hubs on the axles +echoed now very plainly upon his ears, and he sat +watching the outfit and wondering whether the +travellers would camp for the night near him and +give him what he craved most of all, a little human +society. The horses passed the station, and as +they did so, the driver peered intently at the new +building, looking back around the side of the +canvas cover, and straining his neck to see all he +could see, while the horses moved along.</p> +<p>This would have seemed to Bucks mere idle +curiosity had he not noticed that some one within +the wagon parted the canvas flaps at the rear as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +it went by and likewise inspected the building +with close attention. Even this was no especial +incident for wonderment, nor was Bucks surprised +when the emigrants, after pursuing their way until +they were well out of sight of the station itself, +guided their wagon from the trail into a little depression +along the creek as if to make camp for +the night. The driver, a tall, thin man, wearing +a slouch hat, got down from the front of the +wagon and walked with a shambling gait to the +head of his horses and loosened their bridles. +While the horses were drinking, a second man, +carrying a rifle, climbed down from the rear of +the wagon. He was of a shorter and stockier +build, and on one side the brim of his soft hat +had been torn away so that it hung loosely over +one ear, the other ear being covered only by a +shock of dusty hair.</p> +<p>A third man emerged from under the canvas +cover, dropping down almost behind the second––a +fat man who looked about him with suspicion +as he slowly drew a rifle out of the wagon. The +driver joined his companions for a brief conference, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +and when it was finished the three men, examining +their rifles, walked back up the road toward the +station. As they neared it, two of them loitered +back and presently took their places behind convenient +rocks where, without being seen, they +could see everything. The third man, the driver, +carrying his rifle on his arm, walked ahead, crossed +the road, and, proceeding with some care, stepped +up on the platform and pushed open the door of +the station building.</p> +<p>Bucks, perched high on the rocky spur above +the scene, looked on, not knowing just what to +make of it all. As he saw the two men conceal +themselves, he wondered what sort of a call the +third man intended making on the new agent, and +why he should leave two armed men close at hand +in ambush when calling on one lone telegraph +operator. Bucks began to feel a bit creepy and +watched the scene unfolding below with keen attention. +The driver of the wagon getting no response +as he opened the door, walked inside, and +for a moment was not seen. He soon reappeared, +and, stepping to the side of the building signalled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +his companions to come up. Bucks saw them +emerge from their hiding-places and join the driver +at the station door.</p> +<p>A second conference followed. It was briefer +than the first, but there seemed some difference +of opinion among the three men, and the talk +terminated abruptly by the driver’s clubbing his +rifle and deliberately smashing in the sash of the +window before which he was standing.</p> +<p>Whatever had held Bucks spellbound thus far +released him suddenly for action when he saw the +rifle-stock raised and heard the crash of the glass. +He jumped up, and running to the edge of the +ledge nearest the station yelled at the marauder +and shook his finger at him vigorously. The attack +on his habitation was too much for Bucks’s +composure, and, although he knew his words could +not be heard from where he stood, he felt he +could frighten the intruders.</p> +<p>This was his second mistake. No sooner had +his visitors sighted him than two guns were turned +on him and instantly fired. He jumped back before +the fat man, who, slower than his companions, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +had some difficulty in shooting so high above +his head, could get his gun up. Afterward, +Bucks learned how providential this was, inasmuch +as the big fellow was the deadliest shot of +the three.</p> +<p>But at the moment, danger was the last thing +the operator thought of. The unprovoked and +murderous attack infuriated him, and again forgetting +his caution he drew his own revolver without +hesitation, and, running to a more protected +spot, leaned over the ledge and fired point-blank +into the group, as they looked up to see what had +become of him.</p> +<p>If it had been his intention to hit any one of them +with his bullets, his shooting was a failure and +some experience in after years among men practised +in gunnery convinced him that to aim at +three men is not the right way to hit one.</p> +<p>But if he had meant only to create a sensation +his move was successful beyond his greatest expectation. +Had a bomb been exploded on the +platform the marauders could not have scattered +more quickly. Bucks never in his life had seen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +three men move so fast. The fat man, indeed, +had given Bucks the impression of being heavy +and slow in his movements. He now made a +surprising exhibition of agility, and Bucks to +his astonishment, saw him distancing his leaner +companions and sprinting for the shelter at a +pace that would have made a jack-rabbit take +notice.</p> +<p>Bucks, somewhat keyed up, fired twice again +at the fleeing men, but with no more effect than +to kick up the dust once behind and once ahead +of them as they ran. The instant they reached +the rocks where they found shelter Bucks drew +back out of sight, and none too soon, for as he +pulled himself away from the ledge, a rifle cracked +viciously from below and the slug threw a chunk +of granite almost up into his face; the fat man +was evidently having his innings.</p> +<p>Bucks, out of immediate danger, lay perfectly +still for a few moments casting up the strange +situation he found himself in. Why the men +should have acted as they had, was all a mystery, +but thieves or outlaws they evidently were, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +outlaws in this country he already well knew were +men who would stop at nothing.</p> +<p>He realized, likewise, that he was in grave danger. +The night was before him. No train would +be through before morning. He could not reach +his key by which he might have summoned aid +instantly. For a moment he lay thinking. Then +taking off his hat he stuck his head carefully forward; +it was greeted at once by a bullet. The +lesson was obvious and next time he wanted to +reconnoitre he stuck his hat forward first on the +muzzle of his gun, as he had often read of frontiersmen +doing, and, having drawn a shot, stuck +his head out afterward for a quick look. All that +remained in the open was the team and wagon, +but this left the outlaws at a disadvantage, for +if they wanted to get their outfit and go on their +way they must expose themselves to Bucks’s fire. +While they might feel that one operator, armed +with a revolver he hardly knew how to use, was +not a dangerous foe, a Colt’s, even in the hands of +a boy who had thus far fired first and aimed afterward, +was not wholly to be despised. An accident +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +might happen even under such conditions, +and the three men, knowing that darkness would +soon leave them free, waited in absolute silence.</p> +<p>Night fell very soon and the light of the stars, +though leaving objects visible upon the high ledge, +left the earth in impenetrable darkness. Strain +his eyes as he would, Bucks could perceive nothing +below. He could hear, however, and one of +the first sounds audible was that of the wagon +moving quietly away. It was a welcome sound, +even though he dared not hope his troublesome +visitors would withdraw without further mischief. +His chief concern at this juncture was to get safely, +if he could, down the rocks and into the station +to give the alarm to the despatcher; for he made +no doubt that the outlaws, on their wagon trip +west, would damage in any way they might be able +railroad supplies and property along their way.</p> +<p>Before Bucks had climbed down very far and +after he had made one or two startling missteps, +he began to consider that it was one thing to get +up a rough arête in daylight and quite another +to get down one in the darkness. The heavy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +clouds moving down from the north had massed +above Point of Rocks, and he heard once in a +while an ominous roll of thunder, as he slipped +and slid along and bruised his hands and feet +upon the rocks.</p> +<p>He had with great care got about half-way +down, when the pitch darkness below him was +pierced by a small flame which he took at first +for the blaze of a camp fire. In another moment +he was undeceived. The station was on fire. It +was evidently the last effort of the outlaws to +wreak vengeance as they left. Bucks clambered +over the rocks in great alarm. He thought he +might reach the building in time to save it, and, +forgetting the danger of being shot should his +enemies remain lying in wait, he made his way +rapidly down the Point. The flames now burst +from the east window of the station, and he despaired +of saving it, but he hurried on until he +heard the crack of a rifle, felt his cap snatched +from his head and fell backward against the face +of the rock. As he lost consciousness he slipped +and rolled headlong down the steep ledge.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVII' id='CHAPTER_XVII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +</div> +<p>How long Bucks lay in the darkness he did not +know, but he woke to consciousness with thunder +crashing in his ears and a flood of rain beating +on his upturned face. When he opened his eyes +he was blinded by sheets of lightning trembling +across the sky, and he turned his face from the +pelting rain until he could collect himself.</p> +<p>While he lay insensible from the shock of the +bullet, which providentially had only grazed his +scalp, the storm had burst over the mountains +drowning everything before it. Water fell in torrents, +and the desert below him was one wide +river. Water danced and swam down the rocks +and ran in broad, shallow waves over the sand, +and the scene was light as day. Thunder peals +crashed one upon another like salvoes of artillery, +deafening and alarming the confused boy, and the +rain poured without ceasing. Continuing waves +of lightning revealed the railroad and station +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +building before him and he realized that he had +fallen the rest of the way down from where he +had been fired at on the face of the Point.</p> +<p>He took quick stock of his condition and, rising +to his feet, found himself only sore and bruised. +He pressed his way through the flood to the track, +gained the platform, and, judging rightly that his +assailants had abandoned their fight, entered the +half-burned building unafraid. Rain poured in +one corner where the roof had burned away before +the storm had put out the fire.</p> +<p>Stumbling through the débris that covered the +floor, Bucks made his way to the operator’s table +and put his hand up to cut in the lightning arrester. +He was too late. The fire had taken +everything ahead of him, and his hope of getting +into communication with the despatchers was next +dashed by the discovery that his instruments +were wrecked.</p> +<p>He sat down––his chair was intact––much disheartened. +But without delay he opened the +drawer of the table and feeling for his box of +cartridges found that the thieves had overlooked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +it. This he slipped into his pocket with a feeling +of relief, and, as he sat, rain-soaked and with the +water dripping from his hair, he reloaded his revolver +and made such preparations as he could to +barricade the inner door and wait for the passing +of the storm.</p> +<p>From time to time, awed by the fury of the +elements, he looked into the night. It seemed as +if the valley as far as he could see was a vast +lake that rippled and danced over the rocks. +Bucks had never conceived of a thunderstorm like +this. Until it abated there was nothing he could +do, and he sat in wretched discomfort, hour after +hour, waiting for the night to pass and listening +to the mighty roar of the waters as they swept +broadside down the divide carrying everything +ahead of them. Before daylight the violence of +the storm wore itself away, but the creek in the +little canyon south of the right-of-way, dashing its +swollen bulk against the granite walls, pounded and +roared with the fury of a cataract.</p> +<p>When day broke, ragged masses of gray cloud +scudded low across the sky. The rain had ceased, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +and in the operator’s room Bucks, aided by the +first rays of daylight, was struggling to get the +telegraph wires disentangled to send a message. +His hopes, as the light increased and he saw the +ruin caused by the fire, were very slender, but he +kept busily at the wreckage and getting, at +length, two severed strands of the wires to show +a current, began sending his call, followed by a +message for help to Medicine Bend. He worked +at this for thirty minutes unceasingly, then, looking +around on every side of the building, he satisfied +himself that he was alone and, dropping +down at his table, leaned upon it with his elbows, +and, tired, wet, and begrimed, fell fast asleep.</p> +<p>He was roused by the distant whistle of a locomotive. +Opening his eyes, he saw the sun +streaming through the east side of the building +where the window casement had burned away. +Shaking off the heaviness of his slumber he hastened +out to see an engine and box-car coming +from the east. From the open door of the car +men were waving their hats. Bucks answered by +swinging his arm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></div> +<p>The engine stopped before the station and Bob +Scott, followed by Dancing, Dave Hawk, and the +train crew sprang from the caboose steps and surrounded +him. They had brought two horses and +Bucks saw that all the men were armed. It took +only a minute to tell the story, and the party +scattered to view the destruction and look for +clues to the perpetrators.</p> +<p>Scott and Dancing were especially keen in their +search, but they found nothing to suggest who +the vandals were. They listened again to Bucks, +as he repeated his story with more detail, and held +a hurried conference in which Dave Hawk took +charge. Meantime the men were tearing up planks +from the platform to make a chute for unloading +the horses.</p> +<p>Bucks’s excitement increased as he saw the businesslike +preparations for the chase. “Have you +any idea you can catch them, Bob?” he asked +feverishly.</p> +<p>Bob Scott’s smile was not a complete answer. +“How can you catch anybody in <i>this</i> country?” +continued Bucks, regarding the scout sceptically. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +But Scott looked across the interminable waste of +sage-brush and rock as if he felt at home with it.</p> +<p>“If they stick to the wagon,” he explained +leisurely, “we will have them in an hour or two, +Bucks. A man might as well travel around here +with a brass band as to try to get away with a +wagon track behind him. If they stick to the +wagon, we are bound to have them in two or three +hours at most. You are sure they didn’t have a +led horse?”</p> +<p>“They had nothing but the team,” said Bucks.</p> +<p>“In that case if they give up the wagon, three +of them will have to ride two horses. They can’t +go fast in that way. We will get some of them, +Bucks, sure––somehow, sometime, somewhere. +We have got to get them. How could I hold my +job if I didn’t get them?”</p> +<p>That which had seemed impossible to Bucks +looked more hopeful after Bob had smiled again. +Dancing was busy installing the new telegraph +outfit. While this was going on, Scott saddled the +horses and, when he and Dave Hawk had mounted, +the two rode rapidly down the emigrant trail +toward Bitter Creek. The train was held until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +Dancing could get the instruments working again; +then, at Hawk’s request, it was sent down the +Bitter Creek grade after himself and Scott; the +trail followed the railroad for miles. Dancing remained +with Bucks to guard against further attack.</p> +<p>The two railroad men rode carefully along the +heavy ruts of the emigrant trail, from which all +recent tracks had been obliterated by the flood, +knowing that they would strike no sign of the +wagon until it had been started after the storm. +They had covered in this manner less than two +miles when, rounding a little bend, they saw a +covered emigrant wagon standing in the road not +half a mile from the railroad track.</p> +<p>Scott led quickly toward concealment and from +behind a shoulder of rock to which the two rode +they could see that the wagon had been halted +and the horses, strangely entangled in the harness, +were lying in front of it. Scott and Hawk +dismounted and, crawling up the shoulder where +they could see without being seen, waited impatiently +for some sign of life from the suspicious +outfit. The description Bucks had given fitted +the wagon very well, and the two lay for a time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +waiting for something to happen, and exchanging +speculations as to what the situation might +mean. They were hoping that the thieves might, +if they had gone away, return, and with this +thought restrained their impatience.</p> +<p>“It may be a trick to get us up to shooting +distance, Bob,” suggested Hawk when Scott proposed +they should close in.</p> +<p>“But that wouldn’t explain why the horses are +lying there in that way, Dave. Something else has +happened. Those horses are dead; they haven’t +moved. Suppose I circle the outfit,” suggested +Scott benevolently.</p> +<p>“Take care they don’t get a shot at you.”</p> +<p>“If they can get a shot at me before I can at +them they are welcome,” returned Scott as he +picked up his bridle rein. “From what Bucks +told me I don’t think a great deal of their shooting. +He is a level-headed boy, that long-legged +operator.” And Scott, with some quiet grimaces, +recounted Bucks’s story of his descent of Point of +Rocks the night before, under the fire of the three +desperadoes.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></div> +<p>That he himself was now taking his own life +in his hands as he started on a perilous reconnoissance, +cost him no thought. Such a situation he +was quite used to. But for a green boy from the +East to put up so unequal a fight seemed to the +experienced scout a most humorous proceeding.</p> +<p>He mounted his horse and directing Hawk what +to do if he should be hit, set out to ride completely +around the suspected wagon. The canvas cover +was the uncertain element in the situation. It +might conceal nobody, and yet it might conceal +three rifles waiting for an indiscreet pursuer to +come within range. Scott, taking advantage of +the uneven country, rode circumspectly to the +south, keeping the object of his caution well in +view, and at times, under cover of friendly rocks, +getting up quite close to it.</p> +<p>Before he had completed half his ride he had +satisfied himself as to the actual state of affairs. +Yet his habitual caution led him to follow out his +original purpose quite as carefully as if he had +reached no conclusion. When he crossed the trail +west of the wagon, he looked closely for fresh +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +tracks, but there were none. He then circled to +the north and was soon able, by dismounting, to +crawl under cover within a hundred yards of the +heads of the horses. When he got up to where +he could see without being seen he perceived +clearly that his surmise had been correct.</p> +<p>Both horses lay dead in the harness. From the +front seat of the wagon a boot protruded; nothing +more could be seen. Scott now, by signals, +summoned Dave Hawk from where he lay, and +when the swarthy conductor reached the scout, +Scott called out loudly at the wagon.</p> +<p>There was no answer, no movement, no sound. +Things began to seem queer; in the bright blaze +of sunshine, and with the parched desert glistening +after the welcome rain, there in the midst of +the vast amphitheatre of mountains lay the dead +horses before the mysterious wagon. But nowhere +about was any sign of life, and the wagon +might hold within its white walls death for whoever +should unwarily approach it.</p> +<p>Bob Scott had no idea, however, of sacrificing +himself to any scheme that might have occurred +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +to the enemy to lure him within danger. He +called out again at the top of his voice and demanded +a surrender. No sound gave any response, +and raising his rifle he sent a bullet through the +extreme top of the canvas cover midway back +from the driver’s seat.</p> +<p>The echoes of the report crashed back to the +rocks, but brought nothing from the silence of the +emigrant wagon. A second shot followed, tearing +through the side board of the wagon-box itself; +yet there was no answer. Scott, taking his horse, +while Hawk remained in hiding and covered the +scene with his own rifle, led the horse so that it +served as a shelter and walked directly toward the +wagon itself. As he neared it he approached from +the front, pausing at times to survey what he saw. +Hawk watched him lead his unwilling horse, +trembling with fear, up to the dead team as they +lay in the bright sunlight, and saw Scott take +hold of the protruding boot, peer above it into +the wagon itself and, without turning his head, +beckon Hawk to come up.</p> +<p>Under the canvas, the driver of the wagon lay +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +dead with the lines clutched in his stiffened fingers, +just as he had fallen when death struck his horses. +The two frontiersmen needed no explanation of +what they saw in the scarred and blackened face +of the outlaw. A bolt of lightning had killed him +and stricken both horses in the same instant. +Bob crawled into the wagon and with Hawk’s +help dragged the dead man forward into the sunlight. +Both recognized him. It was Bucks’s assailant +and enemy, the Medicine Bend and Spider +Water gambler, Perry.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XVIII' id='CHAPTER_XVIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +</div> +<p>The two men, aided by the crew of the train +that now came down the Bitter Creek grade, got +the dead body of the outlaw back to Point of +Rocks just as a mixed train from the east reached +there, with Stanley and a detail of cavalry aboard. +Stanley walked straight to Bucks, caught him by +the shoulders, and shook him as if to make sure +he was all right.</p> +<p>“Gave you a warm reception, did they, Bucks?”</p> +<p>“Moderately warm, colonel.”</p> +<p>Stanley shook his head. “It is all wrong. +They never should have sent you out here alone,” +he declared brusquely. “These superintendents +seem to think they are railroading in Ohio instead +of the Rocky Mountains. Dave,” he continued, +turning to Hawk as the latter came up, “I hear +you have just brought in Perry dead. What have +we got here, anyway?”</p> +<p>“Some of the Medicine Bend gang,” returned +Hawk tersely.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></div> +<p>“What are they doing?”</p> +<p>“Evening up old scores, I guess.”</p> +<p>Stanley looked at the dead man as they laid +him out on the platform: “And hastening their +own day of reckoning,” he said. “There shall +be no more of this if we have to drive every man +of the gang out of the country. Who do you +think was with Perry, Bob?” he demanded, questioning +Scott.</p> +<p>“There is nothing to show that till we get +them––and we ought to be after them now,” returned +the scout. “But,” he added softly as he +hitched his trousers, “I think one of the two +might be young John Rebstock.”</p> +<p>“You need lose no time, Bob. Here are ten +men with fresh horses at your orders.” Stanley +pointed to the troopers who were unloading their +mounts.</p> +<p>“Give Dave and me three of the best of these +men,” said Scott. “I will follow the west trail. +Put a sergeant with the others on the trail east +to make sure they haven’t doubled back on us––but +I don’t think they have.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></div> +<p>“Why?”</p> +<p>“They must have stolen that team and wagon, +that is certain. More than likely they murdered +the man they took it from. The trail is probably +alive with men looking for them. These fellows +were trying to get to Casement’s camp for gambling, +and probably they are heading that way +fast now. We will pick those fellows up, colonel, +somewhere between here and Bridger’s Gap.”</p> +<p>The three troopers that Scott selected were +told off and, after a few rapid arrangements for +sending back information, the five men of the +west-trail party, headed by Scott and Dave Hawk, +rode down Bitter Creek and, scattering in a wide +skirmish line wherever the formation of the country +permitted, scanned the ground for signs of +the fugitives.</p> +<p>“We shan’t find anything till we get to where +they were when the rain stopped,” Scott told the +trooper near whom he was riding. It was, in fact, +nearly ten miles from Point of Rocks before they +picked up the footprints of two men travelling +apart from each other, but headed north and west. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +These they followed on a long détour away from +the regular wagon road until the two trails turned +and entered, from the southwest, a camp made the +night before by a big trading outfit on the regular +overland trail.</p> +<p>Here, of course, all trace of the men disappeared. +It was now drawing toward evening. +Scott resolved to follow the trading outfit, but +the party still rode slowly to make sure the men +they wanted did not sneak away from the wagons +of their new-found friends. The pursuers rode +steadily on, and as the sun went down they perceived +in a small canyon ahead of them the +wagons of the outfit they were trailing, parked in +a camp for the night.</p> +<p>Scott gave the troopers directions as to where +to post themselves, at some distance east and west +of the canyon, to provide against a sortie of the +fugitives and, riding with Hawk directly into the +camp, asked for the boss. He appeared after +some delay and proved to be a French trader with +supplies for Salt Lake.</p> +<p>Hawk, whose long visage and keen eyes gave +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +him a particularly stern air––and David Hawk +was never very communicative or very warm-mannered––asked +the questions. The Frenchman +was civil, but denied having any men with him +except those he had brought from the Missouri +River. However, he offered to line up his men +for the railroad party to look over. To this Hawk +agreed, and, when the word had been passed, the +entire force of the trader were assembled in front +of the head wagon.</p> +<p>Scott rode slowly up the line scrutinizing each +face, and, turning again, rode down the line. Once +he stopped and questioned a suspicious-looking +teamster wearing a hat that answered Bucks’s +description, but the man’s answers were satisfactory.</p> +<p>When Scott had finished his inspection the +men started to disband. Hawk stopped them. +“Stay where you are,” he called out curtly. +Turning to the Frenchman, he added: “We will +have to search your wagons.”</p> +<p>Again the trader made no objection, though +some of his men did.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></div> +<p>The three troopers were signalled in, and posted +so there could be no dodging from one wagon to +another, and Hawk gave them orders, loud enough +for all to hear, to shoot on sight any one leaving +the wagons. And while he himself kept command +of the whole situation, Scott dismounted and accompanied +by the trader began the search. The +hunt was tedious and the teamsters murmured +at the delay to their camp work. But the search +went forward unrelentingly. Not a corner capable +of concealing a dog was overlooked by the painstaking +Indian and not until he had reached the +last wagon was his hope exhausted.</p> +<p>This wagon stood at the extreme end of a wash-out +in the side of the canyon itself. It was filled +with bales of coarse red blankets, but no man was +to be found among them.</p> +<p>Scott did find something, however, in a sort of +a nest fashioned among the bales near the middle +of the wagon. What would have escaped an eye +less trained to look for trifles attracted his at +once. It was a dingy metal tag. Scott picked +it up. It bore the name of a Medicine Bend +saloon and the heads of three horses, from the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +design of which the saloon itself took a widely +known and ill name. He laid his hand on the +blanket from which he had picked the tag. The +wool was still warm.</p> +<p>Scott only smiled to himself. Both ends of the +little canyon were guarded. From where he was +searching the scout peered carefully out at the +canyon walls. There were hiding-places, but they +were hardly large enough to conceal a man. It +was somewhere in the rocks close at hand that +the fugitives had found a temporary refuge; but +they could not now escape––nor could they be +far from the wagon.</p> +<p>Without losing sight of the surroundings, Scott, +disclosing nothing of his discovery to the trader, +announced that he was satisfied and that the men +he wanted did not appear to be there. He added, +however, that if the Frenchman had no objection +his party would pitch camp close by and ride with +him in the morning. The Frenchman maintained +his courtesy by inviting the party to take supper +with him, and Scott, agreeing to return, rode away +with Hawk and the three troopers.</p> +<p>They had not ridden far, when Bob dismounted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +the party and leaving the horses with one trooper +set two as pickets and posted himself in hiding +on one side the canyon, with Hawk on the other, to +watch the camp. What he saw or whether his +patience was in any degree rewarded no one could +have told from his inscrutable face as he walked +into the camp at dusk and sat down with the +trader to supper. The moon was just rising and +down at the creek, a little way from where Scott +sat, some belated teamsters were washing their +hands and faces and preparing their own supper. +Scott ate slowly and with his back to the fire +kept his eye on the group of men down at the +creek. When he had finished, he walked down +to the stream himself. A large man in the group +fitted, in his hat and dress, Bucks’s exact description. +Scott had already spotted him an hour +before, and stepped up to him now to arrest young +John Rebstock.</p> +<p>He laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and +the man turned. But to Scott’s surprise he was +not the man wanted at all. He wore Rebstock’s +clothes and fitted Rebstock’s description, but he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +was not Rebstock. The scout understood instantly +how he had been tricked, but gave no +sign.</p> +<p>Within the preceding thirty minutes the real +Rebstock, whom Scott had already marked from +his hiding-place in the canyon, had traded clothes +with this man and, no doubt, made good his +escape.</p> +<p>If Bob was chagrined, he made no sign.</p> +<p>“You must have made a good trade,” he said, +smiling at the teamster. “These clothes are a +little big, but you will grow to them. How much +boot did you get?”</p> +<p>Scott looked so slight and inoffensive that the +teamster attempted insolence, and not only refused +to answer questions, but threatened violence +if the scout persisted in asking them. His companions +crowding up encouraged him.</p> +<p>But numbers were not allowed for an instant +to dominate the situation. Scott whipped a revolver +from his belt, cocked it, and pressed it against +the teamster’s side. Dave Hawk loomed up in +the moonlight and, catching by the collar one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +after another of the men crowding around Scott, +Hawk, with his right hand or his left, whirled +them spinning out of his way. If a man resisted +the rough treatment, Hawk unceremoniously +knocked him down and, drawing his own revolver, +took his stand beside his threatened companion.</p> +<p>Other men came running up, the trader among +them. A few words explained everything and +the recalcitrant teamster concluded to speak. +Scott, indeed, had but little to ask: he already +knew the whole story. And when the teamster, +threatened with search, pulled from his pocket +a roll of bank-notes which he acknowledged had +been given him for concealing the two fugitives +and providing them with clothes, Scott released +him––only notifying the trader incidentally that +the man was robbing him and had loot, taken +from the ammunition wagon, concealed under his +blanket bales just searched. This information led +to new excitement in the camp, and the Frenchman +danced up and down in his wrath as he ordered +the blanket wagon searched again. But his excitement +did not greatly interest Scott and his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +party. They went their way and camped at some +distance down the creek from their stirred-up +neighbors.</p> +<p>Hawk and Bob Scott sat in the moonlight after +the troopers had gone to sleep.</p> +<p>“They can’t fool us very much longer,” muttered +Scott, satisfied with the day’s work and +taking the final disappointment philosophically, +“until they can get horses they are chained to +the ground in this country. There is only one +place I know of where there are any horses hereabouts +and that is Jack Casement’s camp.”</p> +<p>Hawk stretched himself out on the ground to +sleep. “I’ll tell you, Dave,” continued Scott, +“it is only about twenty miles from here to Casement’s, +anyway. Suppose I ride over there to-night +and wire Stanley we’ve got track of the +fellows. By the time you pick up the trail in +the morning I will be back––or I may pick it up +myself between here and the railroad. You keep +on as far as Brushwood Creek and I’ll join you +there to-morrow by sundown.”</p> +<p>It was so arranged. The night was clear and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +with a good moon the ride was not difficult, though +to a man less acquainted with the mountains it +would have been a hardship. Mile after mile +Scott’s hardy pony covered with no apparent effort. +Bob did not urge him, and before midnight +the white tents of the construction camp were +visible in the moonlight. Scott went directly to +the telegraph office, and after sending his message +hunted up food and quarters for his beast and a +sleeping-bunk for himself.</p> +<p>At daylight he was astir and sought breakfast +before making inquiries and riding back to his +party. On the edge of the camp stood a sort of +restaurant, made up of a kitchen tent with a dismantled +box-car body as an annex.</p> +<p>In this annex the food was served. It was entered +from one side door, while the food was +brought from the kitchen through the other side +doorway of the car.</p> +<p>Into this crowded den Bob elbowed an unobtrusive +way and seated himself in a retired corner. +He faced the blind end of the car, and before him +on the wall was tacked a fragment of a mirror in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +which he could see what was going on behind +him. And without paying any apparent attention +to anything that went on, nothing escaped +him.</p> +<p>Next to where he sat, a breakfast of coffee and +ham and eggs had been already served for somebody, +apparently on an order previously given. +At the opposite end of the car a small space was +curtained off as a wash-room. Scott ordered his +own breakfast and was slowly eating it when he +noticed through the little mirror, and above and +beyond the heads of the busy breakfasters along +the serving-counter, a large man in the wash-room +scrubbing his face vigorously with a towel.</p> +<p>Each time Scott looked up from his breakfast +into the mirror the man redoubled his efforts to +do a good job with the towel, hiding his face +meantime well within its folds. The scout’s curiosity +was mildly enough aroused to impel him to +watch the diligent rubbing with some interest. +He saw, too, presently that the man was stealing +glances out of his towel at him and yet between +times intently rubbing his face.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></div> +<p>This seemed odd, and Scott, now eying the man +more carefully, noted his nervousness and wondered +at it. However, he continued to enjoy his +own meal. The waiter who had served him, hurried +and impatient, also noticed the waiting breakfast +untouched and called sharply to the man in +the wash-room that his ham was served and, with +scant regard for fine words, bade him come eat it.</p> +<p>This urgent invitation only added to the ill-concealed +embarrassment of the stalling guest; +but it interested the scout even more in the developing +situation. Scott finished his breakfast +and gave himself entirely over to watching in a +lazy way the man who was making so elaborate +a toilet.</p> +<p>There was no escape from either end of the +car. That could be managed only through the +side doors, which were too close to Scott to be +available, and the scout, now fairly well enlightened +and prepared, merely awaited developments. +He wanted to see the man come to his breakfast, +and the man in the wash-room, combing his hair +with vigor and peering anxiously through his own +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +scrap of a mirror at Bob Scott, wanted to see the +scout finish his coffee and leave the car. Scott, +however, pounding ostentatiously on the table, +called for a second cup of coffee and sipped it +with apparent satisfaction. It was a game of cat +and mouse––with the mouse, in this instance, +bigger than the cat, but as shy and reluctant to +move as any mouse could be in a cat’s presence. +Scott waited until he thought the embarrassed +man would have brushed the hair all out of his +head, and at last, in spite of himself, laughed. +As he did so, he turned half-way around on his +stool and lifted his finger.</p> +<p>“Come, Rebstock,” he smiled, calling to the +fugitive. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”</p> +<p>The man, turning as red as a beet, looked over +the heads of those that sat between him and his +tantalizing captor. But putting the best face +he could on the dilemma and eying Scott nervously +he walked over and, with evident reluctance, +made ready to sit down beside him.</p> +<p>“Take your time,” suggested Scott pleasantly. +Then, as Rebstock, quite crestfallen, seated himself, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +he added: “Hadn’t I better order a hot cup +of coffee for you?” He took hold of the cup as +he spoke, and looked hard at the gambler while +making the suggestion.</p> +<p>“No, no,” responded Rebstock, equally polite +and equally insistent, as he held his hand over +the cup and begged Scott not to mind. “This +is all right.”</p> +<p>“How was the walking last night?” asked Scott, +passing the fugitive a big plate of bread. Rebstock +lifted his eyes from his plate for the briefest +kind of a moment.</p> +<p>“The––eh––walking? I don’t know what you +mean, captain. I slept here last night.”</p> +<p>Scott looked under the table at his victim’s +boots. “John,” he asked without a smile, “do +you ever walk in your sleep?”</p> +<p>Rebstock threw down his knife and fork. +“Look here, stranger,” he demanded with indignation. +“What do you want? Can’t a man eat +his breakfast in this place? I ask you,” he demanded, +raising his right hand with his knife in +it as he appealed to the waiter, “can’t a man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +eat his breakfast in this place without interruption?”</p> +<p>The waiter, standing with folded arms, regarded +the two men without changing his stolid expression. +“A man can eat his breakfast in this place +without anything on earth except money. If you +let your ham get cold because you were going to +beat me out of the price, and you try to do it, +I’ll drag you out of here by the heels.”</p> +<p>These unsympathetic words attracted the attention +of every one and the breakfasters now +looked on curiously but no one offered to interfere. +Quarrels and disputes were too frequent in +that country to make it prudent or desirable ever +to intervene in one. A man considered himself +lucky not to be embroiled in unpleasantness in +spite of his best efforts to keep out. Rebstock +turned again on his pursuer. “What do you want, +anyhow, stranger?” he demanded fiercely. “A +fight, I reckon.”</p> +<p>“Not a bit of it. I want you, Rebstock,” explained +Scott without in the least raising his +voice.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span></div> +<p>Rebstock’s throaty tones seemed to contract +into a wheeze. “What do you want me for?” +he asked, looking nervously toward the other end +of the car. As he did so, a man wearing a shirt +and new overalls rose and started for the door. +The instinct of Scott’s suspicion fastened itself +on the man trying to leave the place as being Rebstock’s +wanted companion.</p> +<p>Rising like a flash, he covered the second man +with his pistol. “Hold on!” he exclaimed, pointing +at him with his left hand. “Come over here!”</p> +<p>The man in overalls turned a calm face that +showed nothing more than conscious innocence. +But Scott was looking at his feet. His worn shoes +were crusted heavily with alkali mud. “What do +you want with me?” snarled the man halted at +the door.</p> +<p>“I want you,” said Scott, “for burning Point +of Rocks station night before last. Here, partner,” +he continued, speaking to the waiter. “I’ll +pay for these two breakfasts; search that man +for me,” he continued, pointing to the man in +the overalls.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“Search him yourself,” returned the waiter stolidly. +Scott turned like a wolf.</p> +<p>“What’s that?” Another expression stole over +his good-natured face. Holding his revolver to +cover any one that resisted, he turned his accusing +finger upon the insolent waiter. “You will +talk to me, will you?” he demanded sharply. +“Do as I tell you instantly, or I’ll drive you out +of camp and burn your shack to the ground. +When I talk to you, General Jack Casement talks, +and this railroad company talks. Search that +man!”</p> +<p>Before the last word had passed his lips the +waiter jumped over the counter and began turning +the pockets of the man in the new overalls +inside out. The fellow kept a good face even +after a bunch of stolen railroad tickets were discovered +in one pocket. “A man gave them to +me last night to keep for him,” he answered +evenly.</p> +<p>“Never mind,” returned Scott with indifference, +“I will take care of them for him.”</p> +<p>The news of the capture spread over the camp, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +and when Scott with his two prisoners walked +across to General Casement’s tent a crowd followed. +Stanley had just arrived from Point of +Rocks by train and was conferring with Casement +when Scott came to the tent door. He greeted +Bob and surveyed the captured fugitives.</p> +<p>“How did you get them?” he demanded.</p> +<p>Scott smiled and hung his head as he shook +it, to anticipate compliments. “They just walked +into my arms. Dave Hawk and the troopers are +looking for these fellows now away down on +Bitter Creek. They wandered into camp here last +night to save us the trouble of bringing them. +Isn’t that it, Rebstock?”</p> +<p>Rebstock disavowed, but not pleasantly. He +was not in amiable mood.</p> +<p>“What show has a fat man got to get away +from anybody?” he growled.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XIX' id='CHAPTER_XIX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +</div> +<p>When Hawk saw Bob Scott, two hours later, +riding into his camp on the Brushwood with the +two prisoners, he was taciturn but very much +surprised.</p> +<p>Scott was disposed to make light of the lucky +chance, as he termed it, that had thrown the two +men into his way. Hawk, on the other hand, +declared in his arbitrary manner that it was not +wholly a lucky chance. He understood the Indian’s +dogged tenacity too well to think for a moment +that the fugitives could have escaped him, +even had he not ridden into Casement’s camp +as he so fortuitously had done.</p> +<p>The scout, Hawk knew, had the characteristic +intuition of the frontiersman; the mental attributes +that combine with keen observation and +unusually good judgment as aids to success when +circumstances are seemingly hopeless. Such men +may be at fault in details, and frequently are, but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +they are not often wholly wrong in conclusions. +And in their pursuit of a criminal they are like +trained hounds, which may frequently lose their +trail for a moment, but, before they have gone +very far astray, come unerringly back to it.</p> +<p>“If they ever give you a chance, Bob, you will +make a great thief-catcher,” exclaimed Hawk with +his naturally prodigal generosity of appreciation.</p> +<p>“I certainly never expected to catch Rebstock +and this fellow Seagrue as easily as that,” smiled +Scott, as the troopers took charge of his men.</p> +<p>“If you hadn’t caught them there you would +have trailed them there. It would only have +meant a longer chase.”</p> +<p>“A whole lot longer.”</p> +<p>“When you come to think of it, Bob, the railroad +was their only hope, anyway. They did +right in striking for it. Without horses, the big +camp and the trains for Medicine Bend every day +were their one chance to get away.”</p> +<p>Scott assented. “The trouble with us,” he +smiled, “was that we didn’t think until after it +was all over. Sometime a man will come to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +these mountains who thinks things out before +they happen instead of after. Then we will have +a man fit to run the secret service on this railroad. +But we are losing time,” he added, tightening +up his saddle girths.</p> +<p>“What are you going to do now? And why,” +demanded Hawk without waiting for an answer, +“did you drag these men away down here instead +of leaving them for Casement to lock up until we +were ready to take them to Medicine Bend?”</p> +<p>“I am going to drag them farther yet,” announced +Scott. “I am going to ride after the +French trader and fit these two fellows out in +their own clothes again to make it easier for +Bucks to indentify them.”</p> +<p>“Don’t say ‘indentify,’ Bob, say ‘identify,’” +returned Hawk testily.</p> +<p>Bob Scott usually turned away a sharp word +with silence, and although he felt confident Hawk +was wrong, he argued no further with him, but +stuck just the same to his own construction of +the troublesome word.</p> +<p>“You’ve got the right idea, Bob, if you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +got the wrong word,” muttered Hawk. “Why +didn’t you think of that sooner?”</p> +<p>They broke camp and started promptly. About +noon they overtook the trading outfit and after +some threatening forced the tricky teamster to +rig the two gamblers out in their own apparel. +Having done this, they started on a long ride for +Casement’s camp, reaching it again with their +prisoners, and all very dusty and fatigued, long +after dark.</p> +<p>The hard work voluntarily undertaken by the +scout to aid the boy, as he termed Bucks, in identifying +his graceless assailants was vindicated when, +the next morning, the party with their prisoners +arrived on a special train at Point of Rocks, and +Bucks immediately pointed to Seagrue as the man +who had first fired at him.</p> +<p>There were a few pretty hot moments on the +platform when Bucks, among a group of five camp +malefactors on their way to Medicine Bend, confronted +the two men who had tried to kill him, +and unhesitatingly pointed them out. Seagrue, +tall and surly, denied vehemently ever having been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +at Point of Rocks and ever having seen Bucks. +He declared the whole affair was “framed up” to +send him to the penitentiary. He threatened if he +were “sent up” to come back and kill Bucks if +it was twenty years later––and did, in that respect, +try to keep his word.</p> +<p>But his threats availed him nothing, and John +Rebstock who, though still young, was a sly fox +in crooked ways, contented himself with a philosophical +denial of everything alleged against him, +adding only in an injured tone that nobody would +believe a fat man anyway.</p> +<p>It was he, however, rather than the less clever +Seagrue, who had begun to excite sympathy for +what he called his luckless plight and that of his +companion, before they had left the railroad camp. +Among the five evil-doers who had been rounded-up +and deported for the jail at Medicine Bend, +and now accompanied the two gamblers, Rebstock +spread every story he could think of to +arouse his friends at Medicine Bend to a demonstration +in his behalf.</p> +<p>The very first efforts at putting civil law and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +order into effect were just then being tried in +the new and lawless frontier railroad town and +the contest between the two elements of decency +and of license had reached an acute pass when +Rebstock and Seagrue were thrown into jail at +Medicine Bend. A case of sympathy for them +was not hard to work up among men of their +own kind and threats were heard up and +down Front Street that if the railroading of +two innocent men to the penitentiary were +attempted something would happen.</p> +<p>Railroad men themselves, hearing the mutterings, +brought word of them to head-quarters, +but Stanley was in no wise disturbed. He had +wanted to make an example for the benefit of the +criminals who swarmed to the town, and now +welcomed the chance to put the law’s rigor on +the men that had tried to assassinate his favorite +operator. Bucks, lest he might be made the victim +of a more successful attack, was brought +down from Point of Rocks the first moment he +could be relieved. A plot to put him out of the +way, as the sole witness against the accused gamblers, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +was uncovered by Scott almost as soon as +Bucks had returned to the big town and, warned +by his careful friend, he rarely went up street +except with a companion––most frequently with +Scott himself.</p> +<p>As the day set for Rebstock’s trial drew near, +rumors were heard of a jail delivery. The jail +itself was a flimsy wooden affair, and so crude in +its appointments that any civilized man would +have been justified in breaking out of it.</p> +<p>Nor was Brush, the sheriff, much more formidable +than the jail itself. This official sought to +curry favor with the townspeople––and that meant, +pretty nearly, with the desperadoes––as well as to +stand well with the railroad men; and in his effort +to do both he succeeded in doing neither.</p> +<p>Bucks was given a night trick on his old wire +in the local station, and in spite of the round of +excitement about him settled down to the routine +of regular work. The constant westbound movement +of construction material made his duties +heavier than before, but he seemed able to do +whatever work he was assigned to and gained +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +the reputation of being dependable, wherever +put.</p> +<p>He had risen one night from his key, after despatching +a batch of messages, to stir the fire––the +night was frosty––when he heard an altercation +outside on the platform. In another moment +the waiting-room door was thrown open +and Bucks turned from the stove, poker in hand, +to see a man in the extremity of fear rush into his +lonely office.</p> +<p>The man, hatless and coatless and evidently +trying to escape from some one, was so panic-stricken +that his eyes bulged from their sockets, +and his beard was so awry that it was a moment +before Bucks recognized his old acquaintance +Dan Baggs.</p> +<p>“They are after me, Bucks,” cried Baggs, closing +the door in desperation. “They will kill me––hide +me or they’ll kill me.”</p> +<p>Before the operator could ask a question in +explanation, almost before the words were out of +the frightened engineman’s mouth, and with Bucks +pointing with his poker to the door, trying to tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +Baggs to lock it, the door again flew open and +Bucks saw the face of a Front Street confidence +man bursting through it.</p> +<p>Bucks sprang forward to secure the door behind +the intruder, but he was too late even for +that. Half a dozen more men crowded into the +room. To ask questions was useless; every one +began talking at once. Baggs, paralyzed with +fear, cowered behind the stove and the confidence +man, catching sight of him, tried to crowd through +the wicket gate. As he sprang toward it, Bucks +confronted him with his poker.</p> +<p>“Let that gate alone or I’ll brain you,” he cried, +hardly realizing what he was saying, but well resolved +what to do.</p> +<p>The gambler, infuriated, pointed to Baggs. +“Throw that cur out here,” he yelled.</p> +<p>Baggs, now less exposed to his enemies, summoned +the small remnant of his own courage and +began to abuse his pursuer.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/p0250a-ins.jpg' alt='' title='' width='360' height='570' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“LET THAT GATE ALONE OR I’LL BRAIN YOU,” HE CRIED.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Bucks, between the two men with his poker, +tried to stop the din long enough to get information. +He drew the enraged gambler into a +controversy of words and used the interval to step +to his key. As he did so, Baggs, catching up a +monkey-wrench that Bucks ordinarily used on his +letter-press, again defied his enemy.</p> +<p>It was only a momentary burst of courage, but +it saved the situation. Taking advantage of the +instant, Bucks slipped the fingers of his left hand +over the telegraph key and wired the despatchers +upstairs for help. It was none too soon. The men, +leaning against the railing, pushed it harder all +along the line. It swayed with an ominous crack +and the fastening gave way. Baggs cowered. His +pursuers yelled, and with one more push the +railing crashed forward and the confidence man +sprang for the engineer. Baggs ran back to where +Bucks stood before his table, and the latter, +clutching his revolver, warned Baggs’s pursuers +not to lay a hand on him.</p> +<p>Defying the single-handed defender, the gambler +whipped out his own pistol to put an end to +the fight. It was the signal for his followers, and +in another minute half a dozen guns covered +Bucks and his companion.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></div> +<p>Seconds meant minutes then. Bucks understood +that only one shot was needed as the signal +for his own destruction. What he did not quite +realize was that the gambler confronting him and +his victim read something in Bucks’s eye that +caused him to hesitate. He felt that if a shot +were fired, whatever else happened, it would mean +his own death at Bucks’s hand. It was this that +restrained him, and the instant saved the operator’s +life.</p> +<p>He heard the clattering of feet down the outside +stairway, and the next moment through the +open door on the run dashed Bill Dancing, swinging +a piece of iron pipe as big as a crowbar. The +yardmaster, Callahan, was at his heels, and the +two, tearing their way through the room, struck +without mercy.</p> +<p>The thugs crowded to the door. The narrow +opening choked with men trying to dodge the +blows rained upon them by Dancing and Callahan. +Before Baggs could rub his eyes the room +was cleared, and half a dozen trainmen hastily +summoned and led by a despatcher were engaged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +out upon the platform in a free fight with the +Front Street ruffians.</p> +<p>Within the office, the despatcher found Bucks +talking to Callahan, while Baggs was trying to +explain to Bill Dancing how the confidence men +had tried to inveigle him into a “shell” game and, +when they found they could not rob him of his +month’s pay in any other way, had knocked him +down to pick his pockets.</p> +<p>Callahan, who knew the trouble-making element +better than any of the railroad men, went +up town to estimate the feeling after the fight, +which was now being discussed by crowds everywhere +along Front Street. For every bruised and +sore head marked by the punishment given by +Dancing in the defence of Baggs a new enemy +and an active one had been made.</p> +<p>Stanley came in late from the west and heard +the story of the fight. His comment was brief +but significant. “It will soon be getting so they +won’t wait for the railroad men to draw their +pay. They will come down here,” said he ironically, +“to draw it for them.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XX' id='CHAPTER_XX'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +</div> +<p>A second and more serious disturbance followed +close on the fight at the railroad station. +A passenger alighting in the evening from a westbound +train was set upon, robbed, and beaten into +insensibility within ten feet of the train platform. +A dozen other passengers hastened to his assistance. +They joined in repulsing his assailants and +were beating them off when other thugs, reinforcing +their fellows, attacked the passengers and +those railroad men that had hurried up to drive +off the miscreants.</p> +<p>In the mêlée, a brakeman was shot through the +head and a second passenger wounded. But the +railroad men rallied and, returning the pistol fire, +drove off the outlaws.</p> +<p>The train was hurried out of town and measures +were taken at once to defend the railroad property +for the night. Guards were set in the yards, +and a patrol established about the roundhouse, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +the railroad hotel and the eating-house and +freight-houses.</p> +<p>Stanley, with his car attached to the night passenger +train, was on his way to Casement’s camp +when the fight occurred, and had taken Bucks +with him. The despatch detailing the disturbance +reached him at a small station east of +Point of Rocks, where he was awakened and the +message was read to him advising the manager +of the murder of the brakeman.</p> +<p>A freight-train, eastbound, stood on the passing +track. Stanley roused Bucks and, notifying the +despatchers, ordered the engine cut off from the +freight-train, swung up into the cab, and started +for Medicine Bend. As they pulled out, light, +Stanley asked for every notch of speed the lumbering +engine could stand, and Oliver Sollers, the +engineman, urged the big machine to its limit.</p> +<p>The new track, laid hastily and only freshly ballasted, +was as rough as corduroy, and the lurching +of the big diamond stack made the cab topple at +every rail joint. But Sollers was not the runner +to lose nerve under difficulties and did not lessen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +the pressure on the pistons. If Stanley, determined +and silent, his lips set and hanging on for +dear life as the cab jumped and swung under him, +felt any qualms at the dangerous pace he had +asked for, he betrayed none. With Bucks, open-eyed +with surprise, hanging on in front of him, +Stanley gave no heed to the bouncing, and the +freight-engine pounded through the mountains +like a steam-roller with a touch of crushed-stone +delirium. Hour after hour the wild pace was +kept up through the Sleepy Cat Mountains and +across the Sweet Grass Plains. There was no easing +up until the frantic machine struck the gorge +of the Medicine River and whistled for the long +yards above the roundhouse.</p> +<p>Things had so quieted down by the time Stanley, +springing up the stairs two steps at a time, +reached the despatchers’ office, that they were +sorry they had sent in such haste for him. Stanley +himself had no regrets. He knew better than +those about him the temper of the crowd he had +to deal with and felt that he needed every minute +to prepare for what he had to do. Bucks was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +sent to bring in Dancing, Bob Scott, and the more +resolute among the railroad men. A brief consultation +was held, and the attitude of the gamblers +carefully discussed.</p> +<p>Scott, who had been up town since the murder, +had collected sufficient proof that the chief outlaw, +Levake, had done the shooting, and Stanley +now sent Scott to Brush, the sheriff, with a verbal +message demanding Levake’s arrest.</p> +<p>Every man that heard the order given knew +what it meant. Every one that listened realized +it was the beginning of a fight in which there +could be no retreat for Stanley; that it would be +a fight to a finish, and that no man could say +where it would end.</p> +<p>Bob Scott hitched his trousers at the word from +his sandy-haired chief. For Bob, orders meant +orders and the terror of Levake’s name in Medicine +Bend had no effect on him.</p> +<p>“You might as well ask a jack-rabbit to tackle +a mountain lion as to try to get Brush to arrest +Levake,” declared Dave Hawk cynically.</p> +<p>But Stanley’s hand struck the table like a hammer: +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +“We are going to have a show-down here. +We will go through the forms; this is the beginning––and +I am going to follow it to the end. Either +Levake has got to quit the town or I have.”</p> +<p>Dave Hawk looked around with a new idea. +He bent his eyes on Bob: “Better get Brush to +deputize <i>you</i> to make the arrest.”</p> +<p>“That is it!” exclaimed Stanley. “Get him +to deputize you, Bob, and we will clean up this +town as it hasn’t been cleaned since the flood.”</p> +<p>Scott shook his head: “I don’t believe Brush +has the sand for that. We will see.”</p> +<p>Up Front Street, through the various groups of +men still discussing the events of the evening, +Scott, followed only by Bill Dancing, made his +way, nodding and patiently or pleasantly grinning +as the greetings or ridicule of the crowd +were thrown at him. He went to the rooms of +the sheriff only to find them locked, and made his +way down town again looking through the resorts +in a search for Brush.</p> +<p>After much trouble, he found him at a gaming-table, +inclined to appear sceptical as to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +story that Levake had killed an unoffending +brakeman. When Scott repeated Stanley’s demand +that Levake be arrested, the sheriff slammed +down his cards and declared he would not be +made a cat’s-paw for any man; that the brakeman, +according to accounts reaching him, had +been killed in a fair fight and he would hear no +more of it. Then, as if his game had been unreasonably +interfered with and his peace of mind +injured, he rose from the table to relieve his annoyance.</p> +<p>Meantime Bill Dancing slipped into his vacated +seat, picked up the discarded hand of cards +and announced it was too good to throw away. +“Will anybody,” Bill asked dryly, “play the +hand with me while Brush is arresting Levake?” +The laugh of Brush’s own companions at this proposal +stung him as an imputation of his cowardice, +and he made an additional display of rage +to counteract the unconcealed contempt in which +his cronies held him.</p> +<p>He turned on Scott angrily. “Go arrest the +man yourself, if you want him,” he thundered.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></div> +<p>Scott snapped up the suggestion. He pointed +a lean finger at the shifty peace officer. “Deputize +me to do it, if you dare, Brush!” he softly +exclaimed, fixing his brown eyes on the flushed +face of the coward.</p> +<p>Not a man in the room moved or spoke. Brush +saw himself trapped. Scott’s finger called for +an answer and the sheriff found no escape. “I +knew you hadn’t the nerve to give me a deputy’s +badge,” laughed Scott, to spur the man’s lagging +courage; “you are too afraid of Levake.”</p> +<p>The taunt had its effect. Brush raved about +his courage, and Bill Dancing, slapping him ferociously +on the back, convinced him that he really +was a brave man. Taken volubly in tow by +the two railroad emissaries, who were far from +being as simple as they seemed, Brush returned +to his lodgings at the jail to issue the coveted +paper authorizing Scott to serve any warrants in +his stead.</p> +<p>Before the ink was dry on the certificate the +word had gone down Front Street, and the town +knew that Levake’s arrest was in prospect. As +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +Dancing and Scott left the jail and walked down +to the station, they were surrounded by a curious +throng of men watching for further developments +in the approaching crisis of the struggle with outlawry +in the railroad town.</p> +<p>The night was far advanced, but a third element +was now to make itself felt in the situation. +The decent business men had already seen the +approach of the storm and resolved on protecting +their own interests, which they realized were on +the side of law and order. Word had been passed +from one to another of a proposed meeting. It +was held toward daybreak in a secret place. One +and all present were pledged to act together under +a leadership then and there agreed upon, and after +so organizing, with a resolute merchant named Atkinson +at their head, and with a quiet that foreboded +no good to the gamblers and outlaws, the +men who had gone to the rendezvous as business +men left it as vigilantes, banded together to defend +their rights and property against the lawless element +that had terrorized legitimate business.</p> +<p>In the morning secret word was brought by +Atkinson to Stanley of the resolve of the new +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +allies to stand by him in his efforts to rid the +town of its undesirables for good and all. It was +welcome intelligence, and the railroad chief +assured the plucky merchant of his hearty cooperation +in the designs of the newly constituted +law-and-order committee.</p> +<p>“When the machinery of the law has miserably +failed to protect our lives and property,” he said +concisely, “we have nothing left for it but to protect +them ourselves.” Arms had been telegraphed +for and every effort made to secure troops in the +emergency. But the Indian uprising had taken +every available infantryman and trooper into the +north and there was not now sufficient time to +get them together for action. The railroad men, +Stanley knew, must depend on themselves and +upon such assistance as the decent element in the +town could render.</p> +<p>Meantime the outlaws were not idle. They +spent the day whipping the gamblers and their +hangers-on into line, upon the prediction that +if they themselves were dispersed scant quarter +would be shown their disorderly associates.</p> +<p>Scott spent the day leisurely. Stanley had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +asked him not to move until his own arrangements +for a defensive fight were completed. That +the outlaws had secret sources of information even +in the railroad circles, came out startlingly. A +special train––an express car pulled by an engine––entered +the railroad yard at dusk that evening, +when a party of men running out from the cover +of the freight warehouse attempted to rush it for +arms and ammunition.</p> +<p>They were met at the car doors by six of the +best men that could be picked up along the line +during the day run of the special across the plains. +Stanley had wired instructions to head-quarters to +send him six men that feared neither smoke nor +powder, and six stalwarts taken on at Grand Island, +North Platte, and Julesburg guarded the +car and tumbled like cats out of a bag upon the +surprised raiders.</p> +<p>The encounter was spirited, but it took only a +moment to convince the assaulting party that +they had made a mistake. Clubbing their heavy +revolvers, the guards, any one of whom in close +quarters could account for two ordinary men, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +threw themselves from the car step directly into +the crowd and struck right and left. There was +no regard for persons, and in the half-dark the +Medicine Bend ruffians, surprised and confused, +were soon fighting one another.</p> +<p>But one-sided as the contest was, it did not go +fast enough to suit the guards, who, seizing the +clubs thrown away by the rabble, charged them +in a line and drove them up the street. Railroad +men who came running from the station to help +were too late. The flurry was over and they +found nothing to do but to cheer their new +aids.</p> +<p>Nor were the gamblers asleep. Word had gone +out both east and west of the approaching crisis +between the disorderly and the law-and-order +elements, and every passenger train into Medicine +Bend brought mysterious men from towns and +railroad camps who were openly or secretly allied +in one or another vicious calling to the classes +that were now making a stand for the rule or +ruin of the railroad town.</p> +<p>A mob of sympathizers gathered in Front Street +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +to protect from further punishment the party that +had tried to capture the express car. But the +railroad men had no idea of pursuing the raiders +beyond the yard limits, and indeed were restrained +by strict orders from doing so. Stanley sent word +immediately to the sheriff, demanding the arrest +of the new peace-disturbers, but the sheriff no +longer made a pretence of arresting law-breakers. +In Front Street, the mob, emboldened by their +apparent control of the situation and increasing +in clamor and numbers, were now in a humor +for anything that promised pillage or vengeance. +There were still among them a few cool-headed +criminals who counselled caution, but these were +hooted down by men who had never tasted the +rigor of vigilante rule.</p> +<p>Out of a dozen wild schemes broached by as +many wild heads of the excited crowd, in which +were now lined up for any lawlessness all the +idlers, floaters, the improvident, and the reckless +elements of a frontier gambling town, one caught +the popular fancy. Some one proposed a jail +delivery to release Rebstock and Seagrue, persecuted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +by the railroad company. The idea spread +like wildfire, and a score of men, reinforced by +more at every door as they proceeded up Front +Street, made their way to the jail.</p> +<p>Fast as they came, time was given for word to +the sheriff, who conveniently got out of the way, +and, led by half a dozen men with crowbars and +spike-mauls, the outlaws surrounded and overran +the jail yard and without a show of resistance +from any one began smashing in the entrance and +battering down the cell doors.</p> +<p>The first suggestion included only the delivery +of the two men. But this was effected so easily +that more was undertaken. The jail at Medicine +Bend, being the only one within many miles in +any direction, harbored the criminals of the whole +mountain region, and these now cried to friendly +ears for their own freedom. Cell after cell was +battered open and the released criminals, snatching +tools from the mob, led in the fight to free +their fellows. In less than half an hour every +cell had been emptied and a score of hardened +malefactors had been added to the mob, which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +now proposed to celebrate the success of its undertaking +by setting fire to the jail itself.</p> +<p>The vigilantes down town, though taking the +alarm, had moved too slowly. A jail delivery +meant, they knew, that their stores would be +looted, and, under the leadership of Atkinson, +they attempted to avert the mischief impending.</p> +<p>Gathering twenty-five determined men, they +started with a shout for the hill, only to see the +sky already lighting with the flames of the burning +building. The mob, not understanding at +first, welcomed the new-comers with a roar of +approval.</p> +<p>But they were soon undeceived. The vigilantes +began to try to save the jail and their efforts +brought about the first clash of a night destined +long to be remembered in Medicine Bend. The +brawlers in the crowd stayed to fight the vigilantes. +The thieves and night-birds fell away in +the darkness, and like black cats scurried down +town to pillage the stores and warehouses of the +fire-fighters on the hill.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span></div> +<p>The few clerks and watchmen defending the +stores, these knaves made short work of. Dancing +and Scott, with Stanley, Bucks, and a party +of railroad men, uneasy at the reports from the +jail and now able to see the sky reddening with +the flames, moved in and out of the gloom of side +streets to keep track of the alarming situation +and were the earliest to discover the looting movement.</p> +<p>A convenient general store at Front and Hill +Streets was the first to be pillaged. Dancing +wanted to lead a party against the looters, but +Stanley pointed out the folly of half a dozen men +trying to police the whole street.</p> +<p>“We can do nothing here, Bill. Those vigilantes +have no business on the hill. Get word to +them, if you can, that the stores are being robbed. +They can’t save the jail; they ought to come +back and save their own property. I can’t bring +men up from the roundhouse. We’ve got to +protect our own property first. If we could get +word to them––but a man never could get through +that mob to the jail.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></div> +<p>“I reckon I can, colonel,” said Bill Dancing, +throwing off his coat.</p> +<p>“They will kill you, Bill,” predicted Stanley.</p> +<p>“No,” growled the lineman, rolling up his shirt +sleeves. “Not me. I wouldn’t stand for it.”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXI' id='CHAPTER_XXI'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +</div> +<p>Slipping away behind the long warehouses in +Front Street and moving swiftly in and out of +friendly shadows on his long journey up the hill, +Dancing started for the jail. He was hardly more +than well under way when he was aware of one +following him and, turning to fell him with his +fist, he started as he found it was Bucks.</p> +<p>The latter confronted him coolly: “Go ahead, +Bill; I am going with you.”</p> +<p>“Who said you could go?” exclaimed the lineman. +“You can’t. Go back!”</p> +<p>Bucks stood his ground.</p> +<p>“Do you want to get killed?” thundered Dancing +hotly.</p> +<p>“Two are better than one on a job like this,” +returned Bucks, without giving way. “Go on, +will you?”</p> +<p>With a volley of grumbling objections, Dancing +at length directed Bucks to stick close to him, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +whatever happened, and to fight the best he could +in case they were cornered.</p> +<p>Ahead of them the glare of the conflagration +lighted the sky and the air was filled with the +shouts of the mob surrounding the fighting vigilantes. +Only half a block away, men were hurrying +up and down Front Street, while the two clambered +along the obscure and half-opened street +leading to the jail and parallel to the main thoroughfare.</p> +<p>Dancing, to whom every foot of the rocky way +was familiar and who could get over obstructions +in the dark as well as if it were day, led the way +with a celerity that kept his companion breathing +fast. Both had long legs, but Dancing in some +mysterious way planted his feet with marvellous +certainty of effect, while Bucks slipped and floundered +over rocks and brush piles and across gullies +until they took a short cut through a residence +yard and found themselves on the heels of +the mob surrounding the burning jail and in the +glare of the fire in upper Front Street.</p> +<p>“Stick close, sonny,” muttered the lineman, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +“we must push through these fellows before they +reco’nize us.”</p> +<p>He stooped as he spoke and picked up a piece +of hickory––the broken handle of a spike-maul. +“Railroad property anyway,” he muttered. “It +might come handy. But gum shoes for us now +till we are forced. Perhaps we can sneak all the +way through.”</p> +<p>Without further ado Dancing, with Bucks on +his heels, elbowed his way into the crowd. The +outer fringe of this he knew was not dangerous, +being made up chiefly of onlookers. But in another +minute the two were in the midst of a +yelling, swaying mix-up between the aggressive +mob and a thin fringe of vigilantes, who, hard-pressed, +had abandoned the jail to its fate and +were trying to fight their way down town.</p> +<p>Dancing, like a war-horse made suddenly mad +by smoke of battle, throwing caution and strategy +to the winds, suddenly released a yell and began +to lay about him. His appearance in the fray +was like that of a bombshell timed to explode +in its midst. The slugging gamblers turned in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +astonishment on the new fighting man, but they +were not long left in doubt as to which cause +he espoused. In the next instant they were actively +dodging his flashing club, and the vigilantes +encouraged as if by an angel fought with fresh +vigor.</p> +<p>Bucks was stunned by the suddenness of Bill’s +change of tactics. It was evident that he had +completely forgotten his mission and now meant +to enjoy himself in the unequal fray that he had +burst in upon. The vigilantes cried a welcome +to their new ally. But one cry rose above every +other and that was from Dancing’s own throat as +he laid about with his club.</p> +<p>Consternation seized the rioters and they were +thrown for a moment into confusion. They then +recognized Dancing and a shout went up.</p> +<p>“Railroad men!” cried a dozen of the mob at +once.</p> +<p>And above these cries came one wheezing but +stentorian voice: “You’ve got ’em now; finish ’em!”</p> +<p>Bucks knew that voice. It was Rebstock.</p> +<p>The crowd took up the cry, but the lineman, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +swinging right and left with terrific strength and +swiftness, opened a way ahead of him while Bucks +kept close by till Dancing had cut through to +the vigilantes. Then, turning with them as they +raised their own cry of triumph, Dancing helped +to drive the discomfited rioters back.</p> +<p>It was only for a moment that the vigilantes +held their advantage. Outnumbering the little +band, the rioters closed in on their flanks and +showered stones upon them. Bill Dancing was +the centre of the fight. A piece of rock laid open +his scalp, but, though the mob was sure of getting +him, he fought like a whirlwind. They redoubled +their efforts to bring him down. One active rioter +with the seam of some other fight slashed across +his forehead struck down a vigilante and ran +in on Dancing. It was Seagrue. The lineman, +warned by Bucks, turned too late to escape a +blow on the head that would have dazed a bullock. +But Dancing realized the instant he received +the blow that Seagrue had delivered it.</p> +<p>He whirled like a wounded bear and sprang +at Seagrue, taking upon his shoulder a second +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +blow hardly less terrific than the first. Before +Seagrue could strike again, Dancing was upon +him. Tearing at each other’s throats the two +men struggled, each trying to free his right arm. +Seagrue was borne steadily backward. Then the +lineman’s big arm shot upward and down like +a trip-hammer and Seagrue sunk limp to the +ground.</p> +<p>The vigilantes themselves, profiting by the momentary +diversion, got away. Bucks had seen the +peril of being separated from their friends, but he +was powerless to avert it. As Dancing struck +Seagrue down, his enemies closed in behind the +moving vigilantes. Bucks fought his way to the +lineman’s side and in another instant the two +were beset. Dancing, hard-pressed, made a dash +to break through the circle to liberty. Half a +dozen men sprang at him, and trampling Bucks +completely under foot aimed their blows at his +defender.</p> +<p>Dancing saw Bucks fall and, clubbing his way +to his side, caught Bucks from the ground by +the coat collar, and dragging him with his left +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +hand, swung with his right hand his deadly club. +Nothing less would have saved them. The fight, +moving every instant after Dancing, reached the +broad wooden steps leading from the jail yard to +the street. Down these the lineman, stubborn +and bleeding, drove a desperate way. And Bucks, +able again to handle himself, was putting up a +good fight when, to his horror, Dancing, fighting +down the flight of steps, stumbled and fell.</p> +<p>Half a dozen men, with a yell, jumped for him. +Bucks thought the finish had come. He sprang +into the fight and, armed only with a wagon spoke, +cracked right and left wherever he could reach a +head. Dancing he had given over for dead, when +to his astonishment the lineman rose out of the +heap about him, shaking off his enemies like rats.</p> +<p>Flames shooting up from the burning jail lighted +the scene. Dancing, bare-headed, and with only +a part of his shirt hanging in ribbons from his +left arm, his hair matted in blood across his forehead +and his eyes blazing, was a formidable sight. +He had lost his club but he was at no loss for a +weapon. It was said of Bill Dancing in later +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +days that he could lift a thirty-foot steel rail. +Bucks saw him now catch up a man scrambling +in front of him and swing him by the legs like a +battering ram. With this victim, he mowed down +men like corks, and, flinging the man at last bodily +into the faces of his friends, he started like a deer +up Cliff Street with Bucks at his heels.</p> +<p>Sure that they now had him, the rioters followed +in a swarm. Cliff Street, only a block +long and only half-opened, terminated then at +the cliffs above the gorge of the Medicine River. +But darkness under the brow of the hill helped +the fleeing railroad men. Dancing dodged in and +out of the undergrowth that fringed the street +line and eluding his pursuers reached the brow +of the cliff unseen. The rioters, knowing that no +escape lay in that direction, beat the bushes that +fringed the half-opened street, confident that the +fugitives were in hiding among them.</p> +<p>For an ordinary man, indeed, there was no +escape toward the river. A wall of rock fell a +hundred feet to the water’s edge. The crowd, +growing every moment as the word passed that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +Dancing was whipped, left the hunted man and +his companion little time for decision. Dancing, +in truth, needed but little. His purpose was fixed +the instant he saw himself cut off from every +other chance. He halted only on the brink of +the precipice itself. Catching Bucks’s arm, he +told him hurriedly what they must do and cautioned +him. “It’s the last chance, sonny,” he +murmured, as his iron fingers gripped the boy’s +arm. “We can make it––if you do exactly as I +tell you.”</p> +<p>The gathering cries closed in behind them while +they were taking off their shoes. Creeping on his +hands and knees along the brow of the cliff, Dancing +felt out his location with his fingers. And +with that sixth sense of instinct which rises to +a faculty when dangers thicken about a resolute +man, the lineman found what he sought.</p> +<p>He caught at the root of a rock-bound cedar, +swung himself over the cliff, and called to Bucks +to follow. Bucks acted wholly on faith. The +blackness below was impenetrable, and perhaps +better so, since he could not see what he was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +undertaking. Only the roar of the river came up +from the depths. It sounded a little ominous as +Bucks, grasping the cedar root, swung over and +after an agonizing instant felt a support for his +feet. He stood on a ledge of rock so narrow that +it gave only a footing even in daylight, but Bucks +was called on to descend it in the middle of the +night.</p> +<p>For any man to have attempted the feat seemed +to him, the next morning, sheer insanity. Dancing, +however, knew the treacherous face of the +river wall. To his gigantic size and strength he +united the sureness of a cat in climbing up or down +a mountain arête. Often he had crept with a +telegraph wire, unaided, where his best men hung +back even in harness. There was, in fact, no +time now for halting. The rioters, eager on the +trail, were calling for torches, and, if discovered +before they reached the water, the lives of the +two men would be snuffed out by dropping rocks +on their heads.</p> +<p>Flattening himself as he had been bidden to +do and with his cheek laid to the face of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +sheer rock, clasping from time to time with his +outstretched left hand such slight uneven surfaces +as he could feel, Bucks moved to the right +after Dancing, who gripped his extended right +hand and led him foot by foot down the perilous +way. Not a word was spoken, hardly a breath +drawn, as the lineman felt for his slippery foothold +with the deftness of a gorilla, and, pressing Bucks’s +hand as the signal to take a follow step, he made +a slow but steady descent.</p> +<p>The roar of the river already sounded in Bucks’s +ears like a cataract, but the shock of extreme danger +had numbed his apprehension. Chips of the +sharp granite cut his feet like knives, and he knew +that the sticky feeling upon his bare soles was blood +oozing through the broken skin. He had already +given up expectation of ever leaving the gorge +alive and merely responded to his companion’s +will. The one thought that came to his mind +was curiosity as to what Dancing ever expected +to do if they reached the bottom without accident.</p> +<p>Suddenly above the roar of the river he heard +the muffled crack of fire-arms coming as if out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +another world. He wondered whether they themselves +were already being fired at, but experienced +nothing more than curiosity in the thought. Only +the pressure of the big hand that gripped his own +impressed itself powerfully upon his consciousness, +and at each squeeze he put his foot forward +mechanically, intent on a dull resolve to obey +orders.</p> +<p>He presently felt a new signal from the long +fingers that wound around his own. He tried to +answer by stepping, but Dancing whose face was +turned away, restrained him. Then it flashed on +Bucks that the lineman was signalling Morse to +him, and that the dot-and-dash squeezes meant: +“Half-way down. Half-way down.”</p> +<p>Bucks answered with one word: “Hurrah!” +But he squeezed it along the nerves and muscles +like lightning.</p> +<p>He could hear the labored breathing of his +companion as he strained at intervals every particle +of his strength to reach a new footing of +safety. Every vine and scrubby bush down the +cliff wall was tested for its strength and root, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +Dancing held Bucks’s hand so that he could instantly +release it if he himself should plunge to +death.</p> +<p>Bucks had already been told that if this happened +he must hang as long as he could without +moving and if he could hold on till daylight he +would be rescued by railroad men. All this was +going through his head when, responding to a +signal to step down, and, unable to catch some +word that Dancing whispered, he stretched his +leg so far that he lost his balance. He struggled +to recover. Dancing called again sharply to him, +but he was too wrought up to understand. Dizziness +seized him, and resigning himself, with an +exclamation, to death, he felt himself dropping +into space.</p> +<p>In the next instant he was caught in Dancing’s +arms:</p> +<p>“Gosh darn it, why didn’t you jump, as I told +you?” exclaimed the lineman, setting him up on +his feet. “You pretty near clean upset us both.”</p> +<p>“Where are we, Bill?” muttered Bucks, swallowing +his shock.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></div> +<p>“Right here at the water, and them fellows +up there beating the bush for us. There’s shooting +down town, too. Some new deviltry. How +good a swimmer are you, Bucks? By gum, I +forgot to ask you before you started.”</p> +<p>“I can swim better than I can climb, Bill.”</p> +<p>“We’ve only a quarter of a mile and downstream +at that. And the current here would float +a keg of nails.”</p> +<p>“How about rocks, Bill?” asked Bucks, peering +dubiously toward the roar of the rushing river.</p> +<p>“All up-stream from here,” returned Dancing, +edging down the shelving table toward the water. +“Lock arms with me so I don’t lose you, sonny. +What in Sam Hill is that?”</p> +<p>Far down the river the two saw a tongue of +flame leaping into the sky. They watched it for a +moment. Dancing was the first to locate the conflagration, +which grew now, even as they looked, +by leaps and bounds. The two stood ready to +plunge into the river when a fire of musketry +echoed up the gorge. The lineman clutched +Bucks’s arm.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></div> +<p>“There’s fighting going on down there now. +What’s that smokestack? By Jing, the roundhouse +is on fire!”</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXII' id='CHAPTER_XXII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +</div> +<p>They plunged together into the river. The +water, icy cold, was a shock, but Dancing had +made no mistake. They were below the rocks and +needed only to steady themselves as the resistless +current swept them down toward the railroad +yards.</p> +<p>Bucks demonstrated that he could swim and +the two seemed hardly in the water before they +could fully see the burning roundhouse. A moment +later, chilled to the bone but with his mind +cleared by the sharp plunge, Bucks felt his companion’s +arm drawing him toward the farther +shore where, in the slack water of an elbow of the +stream, Dancing led the way across a shoal of +gravel and Bucks waded after him up the riverbank.</p> +<p>They hastened together across the dark railroad +yard. The sound of firing came again from +the square in front of the railroad station and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +thither they directed their fleeing feet. To the +right they heard the shouts of the men who were +fighting the fire at the roundhouse and the hot +crackling of the flames. They reached the station +together and entered the waiting-room by +a rear door.</p> +<p>Men were running everywhere in and out of +the building and the waiting-room was barricaded +for war. Bill Dancing caught a passing trainman +by the arm.</p> +<p>“What’s going on here?”</p> +<p>The man looked at the lineman and his companion +in surprise: “The gamblers are driving +the vigilantes, Bill. They’ve got all Front Street. +What’s the matter with you?”</p> +<p>Dancing caught sight of Bob Scott coming +down the rear stairway with an armful of rifles, +and, without answering the question, called to +him.</p> +<p>“Hello!” exclaimed Scott halting. He started +as he saw Bucks. “Were <i>you</i> with him? And +I’ve been scouring the town for you! Stanley +will have a word to say to you, youngster. They +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span> +thought the gamblers had you, Bill,” he added, +turning to the lineman.</p> +<p>Dancing, a sight from the pounding he had +taken, his clothing in tatters, and with the blood-stains +now streaked by the water dripping from +his hair, drew himself up. “I hope you didn’t +think so, Bob? Did they reckon a handful of +blacklegs would get me?”</p> +<p>Scott grinned inscrutably. “They’ve got the +best part of your shirt, Bill. How did you get +off?”</p> +<p>“Swam for it,” muttered Dancing, shaking +himself. “Where’s Stanley?”</p> +<p>“Out behind the flat cars. He is arming +the vigilantes. We’ve fenced off the yards with +loaded freight-cars. They’ve fired the roundhouse +on us, but the rifles and ammunition that +came to-night are upstairs here. Take some of +these guns, Bill, and hand them around in front. +Bucks can follow you with a box of ammunition.”</p> +<p>Scott spoke hurriedly and ran out of the door +facing Front Street Square. A string of flat cars +had been run along the house-track in front of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +the station, and behind these the hard-pressed +vigilantes, reinforced now by the railroad men, +were taking up a new line of defence. Driven +through the town in a running battle, they were +in straits when they reached Stanley’s barricade.</p> +<p>Following a resolve already well defined, the +railroad chief conferred with the vigilante leaders +for a brief moment. He called them to his office +and denounced the folly of half-way measures.</p> +<p>“You see,” said Stanley, pointing to two dead +men whom the discomfited business men had +brought off with them, “what temporizing has done. +There is only one way to treat with these people.” +He was interrupted by firing from across +the square. “In an hour they will have every +store in Front Street looted.”</p> +<p>The deliberation for a few moments was a +stormy one, but Stanley held his ground. “Desperate +diseases, gentlemen,” he said, addressing +Atkinson and his companions, “require desperate +remedies, and you must sometime come to what +I propose.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span></div> +<p>“What you propose,” returned Atkinson gloomily, +“will ruin us.”</p> +<p>Stanley answered with composure: “You are +ruined now. What you should consider is +whether, if you don’t cut this cancer of gambling, +outlawry, and murder out while you have a +chance, it won’t remain to plague you as long +as you do business in Medicine Bend, and remain +to ruin you periodically. This is always going to +be a town and a big one. As long as this railroad +is operated, this ground where we stand is and +must be the chief operating point for the whole +mountain division. You and I may be wiped out +of existence and the railroad will go on as before. +But it is for you to accept or reject what I propose +as the riddance of this curse to your community.</p> +<p>“The railroad has been drawn into this fight +by assault upon its men. It can meet violence +with violence and protect itself, or it can temporarily +abandon a town where protection is not +afforded its lives and property. In an emergency, +trains could be run through Medicine Bend +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +without stopping. The right of way could be +manned with soldiers. But the railroad can’t +supply men enough to preserve in your town the +law and order which you yourselves ought to +preserve. And if we were compelled to build +division facilities, temporarily, elsewhere, while +they would ultimately come back here, it might +be years before they did so. What else but your +ruin would this mean?”</p> +<p>He had hardly ceased speaking when the conference +was broken in upon. Bob Scott ushered +in two men sent under a flag of truce from the +rioters. The offer they brought was that Rebstock +and Seagrue should be surrendered, provided +Stanley would give his personal pledge that +the two should not be shot but sent out of town +until peace was restored, and that they should be +accorded a fair trial when brought back.</p> +<p>Stanley listened carefully to all that was said:</p> +<p>“Who sent you?” he demanded.</p> +<p>“The committee up street,” returned the envoys +evasively.</p> +<p>“You mean Levake sent you,” retorted Stanley. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +He sat at his desk and eyed the two ruffians, +as they faced him somewhat nervously. They at +length admitted that they had come from Levake, +and gave Stanley his chance for an answer.</p> +<p>“Tell Levake for me there will be no peace for +him or his until he comes down here with his +hands behind his back. When I want Rebstock +and Seagrue I will let him know. I want him +first,” said Stanley, dismissing the messengers +without more ado.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIII' id='CHAPTER_XXIII'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +</div> +<p>He had resolved that Levake was to be punished, +but it was not a unanimous voice that +backed the railroad leader in his determination. +Weak-kneed men in the conference wanted to +compromise and end the fight where it stood. +Even Atkinson was disposed to make terms, as +the party returned to the barricade.</p> +<p>“No,” repeated Stanley. “Levake is the head +and front of this whole disorder. As long as he +can shoot down unarmed men in the streets of +Medicine Bend there will be no law and order +here. While men see him walking these streets +unpunished they will take their cue from him and +rob and shoot whom they please––Levake and his +ilk must go. A railroad, on the start, brings a +lawless element with it––this is true. But it also +brings law and order and that element has come +to Medicine Bend to stay. If the machinery of +the law is too weak to support it, so much worse +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +for the machinery. I don’t want to see blood +shed or property destroyed, but the responsibility +for this rests with the outlaws that are terrorizing +this town. And I will spend every ounce of +ammunition I have and fight them to the last +man, rather than compromise with a bunch of +cutthroats.</p> +<p>“If any man here feels differently about this, +he may step out of the barricade now,” continued +Stanley, addressing those of the townsmen that +listened. “There will be no hard feeling. But +this is the time to do it. Worse is ahead of us +before we can clean the town up as it will have +to be cleaned sometime. The longer you leave +the job undone, the harder it will be when you +tackle it.”</p> +<p>A movement across the square interrupted his +words, and a messenger waving a white handkerchief +came over to the barricade to ask for a surgeon +for a wounded man. There were some who +opposed sending any relief to men that had forfeited +all claim to humane consideration. Doctor +Arnold, however, was summoned, and Stanley +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span> +finally determined that the matter should be left +to the surgeon himself––he could go if he wished. +Arnold did not hesitate in his decision. “It is +my duty to go,” he decided briefly.</p> +<p>“I don’t quite see that,” muttered Atkinson.</p> +<p>The white-haired surgeon turned to the leader +of the vigilantes. “It is not a matter of personal +inclination, Atkinson. When I took my +degree for the practice of medicine, I took an +oath to respond to every call of suffering and I +have no right to refuse this one.”</p> +<p>Leaving his own injured with his assistant, the +surgeon told the messenger to proceed and the +two walked across the square and up Front Street +to the Three Horses. Arriving there, Arnold was +asked to dress the wound of a man that had been +shot through the breast in the fight along Fort +Street. While he was working over his patient, +who lay on a table surrounded by a motley +crowd of onlookers, Levake walked in. He nodded +to the surgeon and drawing a pocket knife, +while Arnold was cleansing the wound, sat down +beside him to whittle a stick.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span></div> +<p>“I hear your man, Stanley, wants me,” began +Levake after an interval.</p> +<p>“I guess you hear right,” returned Arnold dryly.</p> +<p>“Tell him for me to come get me, will you?” +suggested Levake.</p> +<p>“If he ever comes after you, Levake, he will +get you,” returned Arnold, looking the outlaw +straight in the eye. “There isn’t any doubt +about that,” he added, resuming his task.</p> +<p>Levake whittled but made no reply. He +watched the surgeon’s work closely, and when +Arnold had finished and given directions for the +wounded man’s care he walked out of the place +with him.</p> +<p>“Tell Stanley what I said, will you?” repeated +Levake, as the railroad surgeon left the door and +started down street.</p> +<p>Arnold made no answer and Levake, taunting +him to send all the men the railroad had after +him, followed Arnold toward the square.</p> +<p>The surgeon understood that it was Levake’s +purpose to engage him in a dispute and kill him +if he could. Arnold, moreover, was hot-tempered +and made no concealment of his feelings toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +any man. For this reason, despite his realization +of danger, he was an easy prey.</p> +<p>To the final taunt of the outlaw the surgeon +made rather a sharp answer and quickened his +pace, to walk away from his unpleasant companion. +But Levake would not be shaken off, +and as the two were passing a deserted restaurant +he ordered the surgeon to halt. Arnold +turned without shrinking. Levake had already +drawn his pistol and his victim concluded he was +to be killed then and there, but he resolved to +tell the outlaw what he thought of him.</p> +<p>“I understand your game perfectly, Levake,” +he said after he had raked him terrifically. “Now, +if you are going to shoot, do it. You haven’t +long to live yourself––make sure of that.”</p> +<p>“No man can threaten me and live,” retorted +Levake harshly.</p> +<p>“I came up here, an unarmed man, on an errand +of mercy.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t send for you.”</p> +<p>“You would kill me just as quick if you had, +Levake. What are you hesitating about? If you +are going to shoot, shoot.”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span></div> +<p>Throwing back his right arm, and fingering the +trigger of his revolver as a panther lashes his tail +before springing, Levake stepped back and to one +side. As he did so, with the fearless surgeon still +facing him, a man stepped from behind the screen +door of the deserted restaurant. It was Bob +Scott.</p> +<p>The old and deadly feud between the Indian +and the outlaw brought them now, for the first +time in months, face to face. In spite of his iron +nerve Levake started. Scott, slightly stooped and +wearing the familiar slouch hat and shabby coat in +which he was always seen, regarded his enemy with +a smile.</p> +<p>So sudden was his appearance that Levake +could not for an instant control himself. If there +was a man in the whole mountain country that +Levake could be said to be afraid of, it was the +mild-mannered, mild-spoken Indian scout. Where +Scott had come from, how he had got through +the pickets posted by Levake himself––these questions, +for which he could find no answer, disquieted +the murderer.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span></div> +<p>Arnold, reprieved from death as by a miracle, +stood like a statue. Levake, with his hand on +his pistol, had halted, petrified, at the sight of +Scott.</p> +<p>The latter, eying the murderer with an expression +that might have been mistaken for friendly, +had not Levake known there could be no friendship +among decent men for him, broke the silence: +“Levake, I have a warrant for you.”</p> +<p>The words seemed to shake the spell from the +outlaw’s nerves. He answered with his usual coolness: +“You’ve waited a good while to serve it.”</p> +<p>“I’ve been a little busy for a few days, Levake,” +returned Scott, with the same even tone. +“I kind of lost track of you.” But his words +again disconcerted Levake. The few men who +now watched the scene and knew what was coming +stood breathless.</p> +<p>Levake, moistening his dry lips, spoke carefully: +“I don’t want any trouble with you here,” +he said. “When this town fight is over, bring +your warrant around and I’ll talk to you.”</p> +<p>“No,” returned Scott, undisturbed, “I might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +lose track of you again. You can come right +along with me, Levake.”</p> +<p>With incredible quickness the outlaw, half-turning +to cover Scott, fired. The cat-like agility +of the Indian answered the move in the instant +it was made. Scott was, in fact, the first scout +from whom mountain men learned to fire a revolver +without aiming it and it was not without +reason that Levake sought no encounter with +him. For Scott to draw and fire was but one +movement, and hating Levake as a monster, the +Indian had long been ready to meet him as he +met him now, when he should be forced to face +him fairly.</p> +<p>A fusillade of shots rang down the street. The +air between the two men, feinting like boxers in +their deadly duel, filled with whitish smoke. Arnold, +stunned by the suddenness of the encounter, +jumped out of range. In the next moment he +saw Levake sink to the sidewalk. Scott, springing +upon him like a cat, knelt with one hand already +on his throat; with the other he wrung a second +revolver from Levake’s hand. The surgeon ran +to the two men.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></div> +<p>Levake, panting, lay desperately wounded, as +Scott slowly released his grip upon him. The +Indian rose as the surgeon approached, but Levake, +his eyes wide open, lay still.</p> +<p>“You are wounded, Bob,” cried Arnold, tearing +the stained sleeve of Scott’s coat from his +shoulder. The scout shook his head.</p> +<p>“We’re in danger here,” he replied, glancing +hurriedly up the street. “We must get this fellow +away.”</p> +<p>The two picked the wounded man from the +ground and started quickly down street with him. +The shooting, now so frequent all over the town, +had attracted little attention outside the few that +had witnessed the swift duel, and the two railroad +men made good progress with their burden before +the alarm was spread. But the surgeon saw that +the strain was telling on Scott, whose shoulder was +bleeding freely. He had even ordered his companion +to drop his burden and run, when he heard +a shout and saw Bill Dancing running across from +the barricade to their aid.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/p0300a-ins.jpg' alt='' title='' width='369' height='568' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +FOR SCOTT TO DRAW AND FIRE WAS BUT ONE MOVEMENT.<br /> +</p> +</div> +<p>Half a dozen of the rioters, shouting threats and +imprecations, were hastening down Front Street +after Levake and his captors to rescue their prisoner. +Scott, reloading his revolver as Dancing +relieved him of his end of the burden, stood free +to cover the retreat. He fired a warning shot at +the nearest of their pursuers. A scattering pistol +fire at long range followed. But the railroad men +crossed the square in safety, and the big lineman, +with Levake in his arms, carried him single-handed +into the barricade.</p> +<p>The surgeon and Bob Scott followed close. +Bucks was first to meet the wounded scout, and +the railroad men, jubilant at Levake’s capture, +ran to Scott and bore him down with rough welcome. +Levake was laid upon a bench in the station +and Scott followed to his side. Arnold, joining +the scout, made ready to dress the wound in +his shoulder.</p> +<p>“See to Levake first, doctor,” said Scott, “he +needs it the most.”</p> +<p>As he spoke, Dancing hurried into the room. +“Bob, the car shops are on fire.”</p> +<p>Scott ran to the east window. It was true. +The rioters, supplied with oil and torches, had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +made their way in the darkness through Callahan’s +picket line near the river and set fire to +the shops.</p> +<p>Stanley was eating a hasty supper in the despatchers’ +office.</p> +<p>Within a few minutes the blaze could be seen +from all the east windows of the station. Almost +at the same moment, through the north windows +fire was seen breaking out in one of the big stores +in Front Street. As Stanley rose from his midnight +meal, Atkinson ran in with word that a +band of rioters, well armed, had attacked a train +of boarding-cars defended by the roundhouse men.</p> +<p>The sky, bright again with the flame of conflagration, +made a huge dome of red, lighting the +railroad yards across which men were now hurrying +to make fresh dispositions for the emergency.</p> +<p>The vigilante leaders saw impending, in the +Front Street fire, the ruin of their business property. +There were no longer men enough left to +fight the flames and guard the fire-fighters. A +point had been reached in which life and property +were no longer taken into account, and efforts to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +restore law and order were facing complete failure. +It was then that the most radical of all +measures, the last resort of organized society in +its resolve to defend itself, was discussed. The +vigilantes, as well as the railroad men, now realized +that but one measure remained for saving +Medicine Bend and that was the extermination +of the outlaws themselves.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXIV' id='CHAPTER_XXIV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +</div> +<p>The men in the barricade were lined up for +orders. Ammunition was passed and volunteers +were called to form a charging party. The vigilantes +formed in the glare of the burning shops.</p> +<p>From the head-quarters of the rioters in Front +Street came scattering shots and cries as a huge +volume of sparks shot up into the black sky. Ten +men under Hawk and ten under Dancing made the +supporting party for the vigilantes, who asked only +that a line of retreat be kept open. This Stanley +had undertaken to provide. Atkinson, making +a wide détour back of the station, led his men +down the railroad tracks and, reaching a point +where concealment was no longer possible, double-quicked +up Fort Street and charged with his party +across the little park.</p> +<p>They had already been seen. A line of men, +posted behind the places that line Front Street +at that point, opened fire. It was the worst possible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +answer to make to men in the temper of the +scattered line that swept up the street in the +glare of the burning buildings. Wounded men +dropped out of the charge, but those that went +on carried with them a more implacable determination. +Re-forming their line under cover of the +cedars at the corner of Fort Street, they directed an +effective fire into the dance halls adjoining, and the +rioters hiding within scurried from them like rats.</p> +<p>But the vigilantes were intent first of all on +capturing and burning the hall known as the +Three Horses, and the rioters rallied to its defence. +As the place was assailed, the doors were +barred and a sharp fire was poured through the +windows. The assailants were driven back. Bill +Dancing, heated and stubborn, refused to retreat +and, picking up a sledge dropped by a fleeing +vigilante, attacked the barred doors single-handed.</p> +<p>The street, swept by the bullets of the fray, rang +with the splitting blows of the heavy hammer, as +the lineman, his long hair flying from his forehead, +swung at the thick panels. Within, the +gamblers tried to shoot him from the windows, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +but he stood close and his friends kept up a constant +supporting fire that drove the defenders back.</p> +<p>From above they hurled chairs and tables +down on Dancing, but his head seemed furniture-proof, +and scorning to waste time in dodging he +hammered away, undaunted, until he splintered +the panels and the stout lock-stiles gave. The +vigilantes, running up, tore through the door +chains with crowbars and rushed the building.</p> +<p>The fight in the big room lasted only a moment. +The rioters crowded toward the rear and escaped +as best they could. Vigilantes with torches made +short work of the rest of it. Dancing stove in a +cask of alcohol, and as the attacking party ran +out of the front door a torch was flung back into +the spreading pool.</p> +<p>A great burst of fire lighted the street. The +next moment the long building was in flames.</p> +<p>Emboldened by this success and driving the +outlaws from their further retreats, the vigilantes +fired one after another of the gaudy places that +lined the upper street. Met by close shooting at +every turn, the rioters were driven up the hill +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +and fighting desperately were pursued to cover by +men now as savage as themselves. The scattered +clashes were brief and deadly. The whole upper +town was on fire. Men fleeing for their lives +skulked in the shadows of the side streets and the +constant scattering report of fire-arms added to +the terrors of the night.</p> +<p>Hour after hour the conflagration raged and +day broke at last on the smoking ruins of the +town of Medicine Bend. The work of the vigilantes +had been mercilessly thorough. Along the +railroad track stiffened bodies hanging from the +cross-bars of telegraph poles in the gloom of the +breaking day told a ghastly story of justice summarily +administered to the worst of the offenders. +In the gloom of the smoking streets stragglers +roamed unmolested among the ruins; for of the +outlaws, killed or hunted out of the town, none +were now left to oppose the free passage of any +one from end to end of Medicine Bend.</p> +<hr class='toprule' /> +<div class='chsp'> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +<a name='CHAPTER_XXV' id='CHAPTER_XXV'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +</div> +<p>The victory was dear, but none murmured at +its cost. Medicine Bend for once had been purged +of its parasites.</p> +<p>At the railroad head-quarters Stanley, before +daylight, was directing the resumption of operations +so interrupted by the three days of anarchism +on the mountain division. New men were added +every hour to the pay-roll, and the smaller tradesmen +of the town, ruined by the riots, were given +positions to keep them until the town could be +rebuilt.</p> +<p>The pressure on the operating department increased +twofold with the resumption of traffic. +Winter was now upon the mountains, but construction +could not be stopped for winter. The +enormous prizes for extending the line through +the Rockies to meet the rival railroad heading +east from California, spurred the builders to every +effort to lengthen their mileage, and something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +unheard of was attempted, namely, mountain +railroad-building in midwinter.</p> +<p>Levake, the leader among the mountain outlaws, +was nursed back to life by the surgeon he +had so nearly murdered. But his respite was a +brief one. When new officers of the law were +elected in Medicine Bend, the murderer was tried +for one of his many crimes and paid on the scaffold +the penalty of his cold-blooded cruelty. Rebstock, +the fox, and his companion Seagrue escaped +the exterminating raid of the vigilantes but +fought shy of Medicine Bend for long afterward.</p> +<p>A few days after the riots Stanley sent for +Bucks, who was holding a key among the operators +downstairs, to come to his office.</p> +<p>“How long have you been a telegraph operator, +Bucks?” he asked.</p> +<p>Bucks laughed in some embarrassment. “Since +I was about twelve years old, sir.”</p> +<p>“Twelve years old!” echoed Stanley in amazement. +“Where did you learn to telegraph at +twelve?”</p> +<p>Bucks hesitated again. “I never learned, sir!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></div> +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“I used to sit in the telegraph office of the +road when my uncle was superintendent, and I +got used to hearing the sound of the instruments. +I just woke up one morning and found I could +telegraph. I couldn’t the night before. That’s +the only way I ever learned, sir.”</p> +<p>Stanley regarded the boy with interest. “How +old are you now?”</p> +<p>“Seventeen.”</p> +<p>“Very well. When you went to bed last night +you were not a train despatcher: this morning +you are.” Bucks started. “If any one ever asks +you,” continued Stanley dryly, “how you learned +to be a train despatcher, tell them just that.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want you to think you are old enough +to be a despatcher,” continued Stanley, as Bucks +stammered his thanks, “for you are not. And I +don’t want you to think I like to make you one. +I don’t. Neither for your sake nor mine. I don’t +like to impose the responsibilities of a man on a +boy. But I can’t help it. We haven’t the men, +and we can’t get them––and we must all, men +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +and boys, pull together and just do the best we +can––do you understand?”</p> +<p>“I understand everything, Colonel Stanley.”</p> +<p>“I need not say much about what is before +you. You have been sending despatchers’ orders +for years yourself. You know how many lives +are held every minute in the despatchers’ hand. +Don’t overrate your responsibility and grow nervous +over it; and don’t ever underestimate it. +As long as you keep yourself fit for your work, +and do the best you can, you may sleep with a +clear conscience. Report to Mr. Baxter. Remember +you are working with green trainmen +and don’t expect too much of them.”</p> +<p>When Bucks signed a transfer and took his +train-sheet that night at twelve o’clock, his chief +anxiety was to keep the material trains going to +Casement and everything eastbound was laid out +in an effort to send the ties and rails west. Bucks +set himself to keep pace with the good work done +by the despatcher in the evening trick and for +two hours kept his sheet pretty clean.</p> +<p>A heavy train of rails which he had been helping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> +all the way west after midnight was then at +Castle Springs, and Bucks gave its crew an order +to meet the eastbound passenger train at Point +of Rocks. It was three o’clock when a message +came from the operator at Point of Rocks, saying +the rail train had passed westbound. Bucks +seized a key and silencing the wires asked for +the passenger train. Nothing had been seen of it. +He called up Bitter Creek, the first telegraph point +west of Point of Rocks with an order to hold the +passenger train. But the train had already gone.</p> +<p>The new dispatcher sprang up from the table frantic. +Then, racing again to the key, he made +the operator at Castle Springs repeat the order +and assure him it had been delivered. Of this +there could be no question. The freight crew had +ignored or forgotten it, and were now past Point +of Rocks running head-on against the passenger +train. If the heavens had fallen the situation +would have seemed better to Bucks. A head-on +collision on the first night of his promotion meant, +he felt, his ruin. As he sat overwhelmed with despair, +trying to collect his wits and to determine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +what to do, the door opened and Bob Scott appeared.</p> +<p>The scout, with his unfailing and kindly smile, +advanced and held out his hand. “Just dropped +in to extend my congratulations.”</p> +<p>Bucks looked at him in horror, his face rigid +and his eyes set. Scott paused and regarded his +aspect with surprise. “Something has happened,” +he said, waiting for the despatcher to speak.</p> +<p>“Bob!” exclaimed the boy in desperation, “No. +9 has run past her meeting order at Point of Rocks +with No. 2. They will meet head-on and kill +everybody. My God! what can I do?”</p> +<p>In the dim light of the shaded oil lamp, Bucks, +looking at the scout, stood the picture of despair. +Scott picked up the poker and began to stir the +fire and asked only a few questions and said +little. However, when Bucks told him he was +going to wake Stanley, whose sleeping-room adjoined +his office at the end of the hall, Scott counselled +no.</p> +<p>“He could do nothing,” said Scott reflecting. +“Let us wait a while before we do anything like +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +that,” he added, coupling himself with the despatcher +in the latter’s overwhelming anxiety. +“The first news of the collision will come from +Bitter Creek. It will be time enough then to +call Stanley. Give your orders for a wrecking +crew, get a train ready, and get word to Doctor +Arnold to go with it.”</p> +<p>Bucks, steadying himself under the kindly +common-sense of his older friend, followed each +suggestion promptly. Scott, who ordinarily would +himself have been running around on the job, +made no move to leave the room, thinking he +could be of more service in remaining with the +unfortunate despatcher. The yard became a scene +of instant activity. And although no organization +to meet emergencies of this kind had been +as yet effected on the new division, the men responded +intelligently and promptly with the necessary +arrangements.</p> +<p>Everyone summoned tried to get into the dispatchers’ +room to hear the story repeated. Scott +took it upon himself to prevent this, and standing +in the anteroom made all explanations himself. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +He rejoined Bucks after getting rid of the +crowd, and the moment the relief train reported +ready the despatcher sent it out, that help might +reach the scene of disaster at the earliest possible +moment. Bucks, calmed somewhat but suffering +intensely, paced the floor or threw himself into +his chair, while Scott picked up the despatcher’s +old copy of “The Last of the Mohicans,” and +smoking silently sat immovable, waiting with his +customary stoicism for the call that should announce +the dreaded wreck.</p> +<p>The moments loaded with anxiety went with +leaden feet while the two men sat. It seemed as +if the first hour never would pass. Then the long +silence of the little receiver was broken by a call +for the dispatcher. Bucks sprang to answer it.</p> +<p>Scott watched his face as he sent his “Ay, +ay.” Without understanding what the instruments +clicked, he read the expressions that +followed one after the other across Bucks’s countenance, +as he would have read a desert trail. He +noted the perplexity on the despatcher’s face when +the latter tried to get the sender of the call.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span></div> +<p>“Some one is cutting in on the line,” exclaimed +Bucks, mystified, as the sounder clicked. “Bob, +it is Bill Dancing.”</p> +<p>A pause followed. “What can it mean, his +sending a message to me? He is between Bitter +Creek and Castle Springs. Wait a moment!”</p> +<p>The receiver clicked sharp and fast. Scarcely +able to control his voice in his anxiety, Bucks +turned to the now excited scout: “The trains +met between Bitter Creek and Castle Springs. +There was no collision!”</p> +<p>Almost collapsing with the passing of the strain, +Bucks faltered in his taking. Asking Dancing +again for the story, Bucks took it more coolly and +repeated it to his eager listener, as it came.</p> +<p>“Dancing was out with two men on the line +to-day, repairing between Bitter Creek and Castle +Springs. He didn’t get done and camped beside +the track for the night, to finish in the morning.”</p> +<p>“Go on,” exclaimed Scott.</p> +<p>“They shot a jack-rabbit–––”</p> +<p>“Hang the jack-rabbit,” cried Scott. “What +about the trains?”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span></div> +<p>“You can’t hurry Bill Dancing, Bob,” pleaded +Bucks. “You know that. Faster, Bill, faster,” +he telegraphed urgently.</p> +<p>“You will get it faster,” returned the distant +lineman far out in the mountains under the stars, +as he talked calmly with the despatcher, “if you +will go slower.”</p> +<p>Bucks strangled his impatience. Dancing resumed, +and the despatcher again translated for +Scott.</p> +<p>“They cooked the jack-rabbit for supper–––”</p> +<p>Scott flung his book violently across the room. +“It tasted good,” continued Dancing exasperatingly. +“But the night was awfully cold, so they +built a big camp-fire near the curve. The freight +engineer saw the fire and thought it was a locomotive +head-light. Then he remembered he had +run past his meeting point. He stopped his train +to find out what the fire was. When he told Bill +what had happened they grabbed up the burning +logs, carried them down the track, and built a +signal fire for No. 2. And it came along inside +five minutes–––”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span></div> +<p>“And there they are!” concluded Bucks, wiping +the dampness from his forehead.</p> +<p>The receiver continued to click. “Bill thought +I would be worried and he cut in on the line right +away to tell me what had happened.”</p> +<p>“Now give your orders to No. 2 to back up +to Castle Springs and let the rail train get by. +Recall your relief train,” added Scott. “And +bring that freight engineer in here in the morning +and let Stanley talk to him for just about +five minutes.” The key rattled for a moment. +Scott, going to the farthest corner of the room, +picked up “The Last of the Mohicans.” “Bucks,” +he murmured insinuatingly, as he sat down +to look into the book again, “I want to ask +you now, once for all, whether this is a true +story?”</p> +<p>“Bob, put that book where it belongs and stop +talking about it.”</p> +<p>Scott hitched one shoulder a bit and returned +to the fire, but he was not silenced.</p> +<p>“That reminds me, Bucks,” he resumed after a +pause, “there is another friend of yours here at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +the door, waiting to congratulate you. Shall I let +him in?”</p> +<p>“I don’t want any congratulations, Bob.”</p> +<p>“I’ll promise he doesn’t say a single word, +Bucks.” As he spoke, Scott opened the hall door +and whistled into the darkness. For an instant +there was no response. Then a small and vague +object outlined itself in the gloom, but halted questioningly +on the threshold. Wagging his abbreviated +tail very gently and carrying his drooping +ears very low, Scuffy at length walked slowly into +the room. Bucks hailed him with delight, and +Scuffy bounding forward crouched at his feet.</p> +<p>“I can’t do a thing with him over at the ranch,” +complained Scott, eying the dog with a secret admiration. +“He is eating the hounds up; doesn’t +give them a chance to pick a bone even after he’s +done with it.”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid there is nothing to do with Scuffy, +but to make a despatcher of him,” returned +Bucks, picking him up by the forepaws. “I can +see very plainly it’s going to be a dog’s life most +of the time.”</p> + +<!-- generated by ppg.rb version: ppg0809 --> +<!-- timestamp: Mon Aug 10 03:58:03 -0600 2009 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Mountain Divide, by Frank H. 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