e changed
engines, and that'll be in about seven minutes."

"I'll not go with it."

"Suit yourself," said the officer jauntily, and turned away to talk with
the other man.

Dave walked to the dispatcher's office. The cowpuncher stated his case.

"Fix that up with the train conductor," said the dispatcher. "He can have
a siding whenever he wants it."

"But he won't gimme one."

"Not my business."

"Whose business is it?"

The dispatcher got busy over his charts. Dave became aware that he was
going to get no satisfaction here.

He tramped back to the platform.

"All aboard," sang out the conductor.

Dave, not knowing what else to do, swung on to the caboose as it passed.
He sat down on the steps and put his brains at work. There must be a way
out, if he could only find what it was. The next station was fifteen
miles down the line. Before the train stopped there Dave knew exactly
what he meant to do. He wrote out two messages. One was to the division
superintendent. The other was to Henry B. West.

He had swung from the steps of the caboose and was in the station before
the conductor.

"I want to send two telegrams," he told the agent. "Here they are all
ready. Rush 'em through. I want an answer here to the one to the
superintendent."

The wire to the railroad official read:

Conductor freight number 17 refuses me siding to reload stock in my
charge. Cattle down and dying. Serve notice herewith I put responsibility
for all loss on railroad. Will leave cars in charge of train crew.

DAVID SANDERS

_Representing West Cattle Company_

The other message was just as direct.

Conductor refuses me siding to reload. Cattle suffering and dying. Have
wired division superintendent. Will refuse responsibility and leave train
unless siding given me.

DAVE SANDERS

The conductor caught the eye of the agent.

"I'll send the wires when I get time," said the latter to the cowboy.

"You'll send 'em now--right now," announced Dave.

"Say, are you the president of the road?" bristled the agent.

"You'll lose yore job within forty-eight hours if you don't send them
telegrams _now_. I'll see to that personal." Dave leaned forward and
looked at him steadily.

The conductor spoke to the agent, nodding his head insolently toward
Dave. "Young-man-heap-swelled-head," he introduced him.

But the agent had had a scare. It was his job at stake, not the
conductor's. He sat down sulkily and sent the messages.

The c