n his hand till away
from the quarters, and then went to Buestom's house and began his
day's work by building fires, preparing the bath, and assisting in
the cuisine. He never ate his meals with the company--always served
himself in the kitchen or back yard of his master. Master? Yes;
for a more menial slave was never sold from the block.

When nothing else to engage him, he had his orders to take the mangy
dog out for a walk--and what a dog! What breed? Just dog--the yellow
kind. His comrades always spoke of these walks as "two curs out for
a constitutional." But that same dog was Daly's only friend, and he
no doubt enjoyed his society.

Then came the great railroad strike, and the tie-up of the mails. The
regiment was ordered out to open up the roads. To everybody's delight,
Buestom remained behind to take care of the post; but a greater
delight was when Daly asked to go with his company in the field,
for now he would get more than his share of duty to make good the
work thrown on his comrades while he was excused from everything. The
"non-coms" were "laying for him."

When it came to choosing tent-mates, Daly was left a widow, for even
Rassmussen the Swede--"Rouse mit 'em der sweet"--the worst reprobate
that ever wore a uniform, refused to pair with him; so he hied himself
to the nearest escort wagon and slept under it.

They marched past miles of obstructed railroad track to Patterson,
where the switches were crammed full of freight cars and "killed"
engines. The work of clearing the tracks went on for many days,
till finally they were cleared, and a train made up to take the
first mail through that had passed since the strike began. Soldiers
were everywhere--on the tops of cars, on the platforms, inside, on
the tender; and riding on the cow-catcher, loaded rifles in hand,
were Archie Fettin and "Cougar" Daly.

This heavily guarded train sped on at a lively rate, through tunnels,
over cuts and fills, coughing a continuous challenge to the groups
of strikers gathered along the way to watch it pass. On it went. The
soldier-engineer, taking courage from the docile attitude of the
strikers, pulled the throttle wide open, while the soldier-fireman
was heaving coal into the fiery furnace, even though the steam was
at the time "blowing off." The giant machine leaped forward like a
spurred stallion, easily making fifty miles an hour. Daly and Fettin
were holding on like grim Death, for the track was rough and the
spe