the report of the action of the Railroad upon hearing of the battle.

Instantly Bonneville had been isolated. Not a single local train was
running, not one of the through trains made any halt at the station. The
mails were not moved. Further than this, by some arrangement difficult
to understand, the telegraph operators at Bonneville and Guadalajara,
acting under orders, refused to receive any telegrams except those
emanating from railway officials. The story of the fight, the story
creating the first impression, was to be told to San Francisco and the
outside world by S. Behrman, Ruggles, and the local P. and S. W. agents.

An hour before breakfast, the undertakers arrived and took charge of the
bodies of Harran and Annixter. Presley saw neither Hilma, Magnus, nor
Mrs. Derrick. The doctor came to look after Hilma. He breakfasted with
Mrs. Dyke and Presley, and from him Presley learned that Hilma would
recover both from the shock of her husband's death and from her
miscarriage of the previous night.

"She ought to have her mother with her," said the physician. "She does
nothing but call for her or beg to be allowed to go to her. I have tried
to get a wire through to Mrs. Tree, but the company will not take it,
and even if I could get word to her, how could she get down here? There
are no trains."

But Presley found that it was impossible for him to stay at Los Muertos
that day. Gloom and the shadow of tragedy brooded heavy over the place.
A great silence pervaded everything, a silence broken only by the
subdued coming and going of the undertaker and his assistants. When
Presley, having resolved to go into Bonneville, came out through the
doorway of the house, he found the undertaker tying a long strip of
crape to the bell-handle.

Presley saddled his pony and rode into town. By this time, after long
hours of continued reflection upon one subject, a sombre brooding
malevolence, a deep-seated desire of revenge, had grown big within his
mind. The first numbness had passed off; familiarity with what had been
done had blunted the edge of horror, and now the impulse of retaliation
prevailed. At first, the sullen anger of defeat, the sense of outrage,
had only smouldered, but the more he brooded, the fiercer flamed his
rage. Sudden paroxysms of wrath gripped him by the throat; abrupt
outbursts of fury injected his eyes with blood. He ground his teeth, his
mouth filled with curses, his hands clenched till they grew white a