be seen on the window, crept to the little instrument
table and reached for the telegraph key. He opened, and pressed it down.
The sounder did not respond. He tried again, adjusting the relay, and
turned about in genuine alarm.

The wire had been cut! Some mischief was surely afoot.

From without came the crunch of stealthy footsteps. Springing to his
bunk, Wilson secured his revolver and belt--the same taken from the
would-be bullion thief he had captured at Bonepile--and stealing to the
rear door, slipped out and to the ground just as the strangers approached
the opposite side of the little car-depot.

The car was raised on a foundation of ties, and as the two men entered,
Wilson crept beneath.

"No one here," said a gruff voice. "Say, do you s'pose he saw us, and
sneaked?"

"Like as not. I told you to keep to the rails and come straight up,"
chided the other.

"Perhaps he will come back. We're in charge of the station anyway. That
was the real thing."

Wilson waited to hear no more. Creeping forth, he stole off toward the
ravine, intending to get out of sight in its shadows.

A short distance from the head of the viaduct was the green light of a
small target-switch. The head of the downward path lay just beyond, and
Wilson headed for the light. He reached it, and passed on.

Abruptly he halted and turned about. Like an inspiration had come the
remembrance of Alex Ward's signalling feat two years before at Bixton, of
which he had heard from Jack Orr. Could he not do the same? Try and
signal Alex or Jack, at the construction-train? Say, from one of the
box-cars at the farther corner of the yard?

Casting a glance toward the little station to assure himself that all was
quiet there, Wilson retraced his steps to the switch, removed the
lantern, and tucking it under his coat, was off between the material-cars
for the farthermost corner of the sidings.

The outermost car was a box-car. Climbing the ladder, with his
handkerchief Wilson tied the lantern to the topmost rung, the red light
out, and using his hat just as Alex had done, began flashing the call of
the construction-train,

"KX, KX, V! KX, KX, V!"

* * * * *

Since the construction-train had started from Yellow Creek Junction it
had been a center of attraction to coyotes for fifty miles around, and
one of the few recreations enjoyed by the men of the train had been
hunting them at night.

This Saturda