-all
necessaries for the up-keep of the road. The engine was at the rear end,
pushing instead of pulling; and at the extreme front end there was a
flat-car loaded with gravel. A number of laborers rode on this car,
among whom was Casey. In labor or fighting this Irishman always
gravitated to the fore.

All along the track, from outside of Benton to the top of a long, slow
rise of desert were indications of the fact that Indians had torn up the
track or attempted to derail trains.

The signs of Sioux had become such an every-day matter in the lives of
the laborers that they were indifferent and careless. Thus isolated,
unprotected groups of men, out some distance from the work-train, often
were swooped down upon by Indians and massacred.

The troopers had gone on with the other trains that carried Benton's
inhabitants and habitations.

Casey and his comrades had slow work of it going westward, as it was
necessary to repair the track and at the same time to keep vigilant
watch for the Sioux. They expected the regular train from the east to
overtake them, but did not even see its smoke. There must have been a
wreck or telegraph messages to hold it back at Medicine Bow.

Toward sunset the work-train reached the height of desert land that
sloped in long sweeping lines down to the base of the hills.

At this juncture a temporary station had been left in the shape of
several box-cars where the telegraph operators and a squad of troopers
lived.

As the work-train lumbered along to the crest of this heave of barren
land Casey observed that some one at the station was excitedly waving a
flag. Thereupon Casey, who acted as brakeman, signaled the engineer.

"Dom' coorious that," remarked Casey to his comrade McDermott. "Thim
operators knowed we'd stop, anyway."

That was the opinion of the several other laborers on the front car. And
when the work-train halted, that car had run beyond the station a few
rods. Casey and his comrades jumped off.

A little group of men awaited them. The operator, a young fellow named
Collins, was known to Casey. He stood among the troopers, pale-faced and
shaking.

"Casey, who's in charge of the train?" he asked, nervously.

The Irishman's grin enlarged, making it necessary for him to grasp his
pipe.

"Shure the engineer's boss of the train an' I'm boss of the gang."

More of the work-train men gathered round the group, and the engineer
with his fireman approached.

"You've got to h