er," he said, and for the moment dropped Dave out of the
conversation.

But before noon he sent for him.

"I've heard from Crawford," he said, and mentioned terms.

"Whatever's fair," agreed Dave.

An hour later he was in the caboose of a cattle train rolling eastward.
He was second in command of a shipment consigned to the Denver Terminal
Stockyards Company. Most of them were shipped by the West Cattle Company.
An odd car was a jackpot bunch of pickups composed of various brands. All
the cars were packed to the door, as was the custom of those days.

After the train had settled down to the chant of the rails Garrison
sent Dave on a tour of the cars. The young man reported all well and
returned to the caboose. The train crew was playing poker for small
stakes. Garrison had joined them. For a time Dave watched, then read
a four-day-old newspaper through to the last advertisement. The hum of
the wheels made him drowsy. He stretched out comfortably on the seat
with his coat for a pillow.

When he awoke it was beginning to get dark. Garrison had left the
caboose, evidently to have a look at the stock. Dave ate some crackers
and cheese, climbed to the roof, and with a lantern hanging on his arm
moved forward.

Already a few of the calves, yielding to the pressure in the heavily
laden cars, had tried to escape it by lying down. With his prod Dave
drove back the nearest animal. Then he used the nail in the pole to twist
the tails of the calves and force them to their feet. In those days of
crowded cars almost the most important thing in transit was to keep the
cattle on their legs to prevent any from being trampled and smothered to
death.

As the night grew older both men were busier. With their lanterns and
prod-poles they went from car to car relieving the pressure wherever it
was greatest. The weaker animals began to give way, worn out by the
heavy lurching and the jam of heavy bodies against them. They had to be
defended against their own weakness.

Dave was crossing from the top of one car to another when he heard his
name called. He knew the voice belonged to Garrison and he listened to
make sure from which car it came. Presently he heard it a second time
and localized the sound as just below him. He entered the car by the
end door near the roof.

"Hello! Call me?" he asked.

"Yep. I done fell and bust my laig. Can you get me outa here?"

"Bad, is it?"

"Broken."

"I'll get some of the train hands. Wil