ow will Hepburn, the town marshal, stand?"

The trainmaster shook his head.

"I don't know. Jack's got plenty of sand, but he was elected out of the
shops, and by the railroad vote. If it comes to a show-down against the
men who elected him----"

"That is what I mean," nodded Lidgerwood. "It will come to a show-down
sooner or later, if we can't nip the ringleaders. Young Rufford and a
dozen more of the dropped employees are threatening to get even. That
means train-wrecking, misplaced switches, arson--anything you like. At
the first break there are going to be some very striking examples made of
all the wreckers and looters we can land on."

McCloskey's chair faced the window, and he was scowling and mouthing at
the tall chimney of the shop power-plant across the tracks. Where had he
fallen upon the idea that this carefully laundered gentleman, who never
missed his daily plunge and scrub, and still wore immaculate linen,
lacked the confidence of his opinions and convictions? The trainmaster
knew, and he thought Lidgerwood must also know, that the first blow of
the vengeful ones would be directed at the man rather than at the
company's property.

"I guess maybe Hepburn will do his duty when it comes to the pinch," he
said finally. And the subject having apparently exhausted itself, he
went about his business, which was to call up the telegraph operator at
Timanyoni to ask why he had broken the rule requiring the conductor and
engineer, both of them, to sign train orders in his presence.

Thereupon, quite in keeping with the militant state of affairs on a
harassed Red Butte Western, ensued a sharp and abusive wire quarrel at
long range; and when it was over, Timanyoni was temporarily stricken
from the list of night telegraph stations pending the hastening forward
of a relief operator, to take the place of the one who, with many
profane objurgations curiously clipped in rattling Morse, had wired his
opinion of McCloskey and the new superintendent, closely interwoven with
his resignation.

It was after dark that evening when Lidgerwood closed his desk on the
pencilled blotting-pad and groped his way down the unlighted stair to
the Crow's Nest platform.

The day passenger from the east was in, and the hostler had just coupled
Engine 266 to the train for the night run to Red Butte. Lidgerwood
marked the engine's number, and saw Dawson talking to Williams, the
engineer, as he turned the corner at the passenger-station