d which, until now, he had carefully evaded. Yes,
he had found "Brand" Trevison a worthy antagonist--Braman had him
appraised correctly.

Corrigan's smile was bitter as he again walked into the rear room and
surveyed his reflection in the glass. Disgusted, he turned to one of the
windows and looked out. From where he stood he could see straight down the
railroad tracks to the cut, down the wall of which, some hours before,
Trevison had ridden the black horse. The dinky engine, with its train of
flat-cars, was steaming toward him. As he watched, engine and cars struck
the switch and ran onto the siding, where they came to a stop. Corrigan
frowned and looked at his watch. It lacked fully three hours to quitting
time, and the cars were empty, save for the laborers draped on them, their
tools piled in heaps. While Corrigan watched, the laborers descended from
the cars and swarmed toward their quarters--a row of tent-houses near the
siding. A big man--Corrigan knew him later as Patrick Carson--swung down
from the engine-cab and lumbered toward the little frame station house, in
a window of which the telegrapher could be seen, idly scanning a week-old
newspaper. Carson spoke shortly to the telegrapher, at which the latter
motioned toward the bank building and the private car. Then Carson came
toward the bank building. An instant later, Carson came in the front door
and met Corrigan at the wire netting.

"Hullo," said the Irishman, without preliminaries; "the agent was tellin'
me I'd find a mon named Corrigan here. You're in charge, eh?" he added at
Corrigan's affirmative. "Well, bedad, somebody's got to be in charge from
now on. The Willie-boy engineer from who I've been takin' me orders has
sneaked away to Dry Bottom for a couple av days, shovin' the
raysponsibility on me--an' I ain't feelin' up to it. I'm a daisy
construction boss, if I do say it meself, but I ain't enough of a fightin'
mon to buck the business end av a six-shooter."

"What's up?"

"Mebbe you'd know--he said you'd be sure to. I've been parleyin' wid a
fello' named 'Firebrand' Trevison, an' I'm that soaked wid perspiration
that me boots is full av it, after me thryin' to urge him to be dacently
careful wid his gun!"

"What happened?" asked Corrigan, darkly.

"This mon Trevison came down through the cut this mornin', goin' to town.
He was pleasant as a mon who's had a raise in wages, an' he was joshin'
wid us. A while ago he comes back from town, an' he