s pistol. "Here, shoot me--with my own gun!"
he said hoarsely. "I deserve it."

Muskoka considered. "No," he decided at length. "Leave your gun as a
present for the kid, and," turning and indicating the door, "git!"

Thus was it the young "dude" operator proved himself, and came into
possession of a handsome pearl-handled Colt's revolver--and, early the
following morning, from a "committee" of the Bar-O cowmen, headed by
Muskoka Jones, a fine high-crowned, silver-spangled Mexican sombrero, to
take the place of the hat they had destroyed, and "as a mark of esteem
for the pluckiest little operator ever sent to Bonepile."

More important still, however, the incident won Wilson immediate esteem
at division headquarters, where one of the first of the operators to
congratulate him was Alex Ward.

XVI

A DRAMATIC FLAGGING

Since shortly following Jack Orr's appointment to Midway Junction Alex
had been "agitating," as he called it, for his friend's transfer to the
telegraph force at the division terminal. At length, early in the fall,
Alex's efforts bore fruit, and Jack was offered, and accepted, the "night
trick" at one of the big yard towers at Exeter.

Of course the two chums were now always together. And the day of the big
flood that October was no exception to the rule. All afternoon the two
boys had wandered up and down the swollen river, watching the brown
whirling waters, almost bank high, and the trees, fences, even occasional
farm buildings, which swept by from above. When six o'clock came they
reluctantly left it for supper, and the night's duties.

"Well, what do you think of the river, Ward?" inquired the chief night
despatcher as Alex entered the despatching-room.

"It looks rather bad, sir, doesn't it. Do you think the bridge is quite
safe?"

"Quite. It has been through several worse floods than this. It's as
strong as the hills," the despatcher affirmed.

Despite the chief's confidence, however, when about 5 o'clock in the
morning there came reports of a second cloud-burst up the river, he
requested Alex to call up Jack, at the yard tower which overlooked the
bridge, and ask him to keep them posted.

"Tell him the crest of this new flood will likely reach us in half an
hour," he added; "and that by that time, as it is turning colder,
there'll probably be a heavy fog on the river."

Twenty-five minutes later Jack suddenly called, and announced, "The new
flood's coming! There is a heavy mis