ere, by cribbing across the bottom, they got in a
temporary line.

Train movement was thrown into a spectacle of confusion. Upon the
incessant and well-ordered activities of the road the burning of the
bridge fell like the heel of a heavy boot on an ant-hill; but the
railroad men like ants rose to the emergency, and, where the possible
failed, achieved the impossible.

McCloud spent his days at the creek and his nights at Medicine Bend
with his assistant and his chief despatcher, advising, counselling,
studying out trouble reports, and steadying wherever he could the
weakened lines of his operating forces. He was getting his first taste
of the trials of the hardest-worked and poorest-paid man in the
operating department of a railroad--the division superintendent.

To these were added personal annoyances. A trainload of Duck Bar
steers, shipped by Lance Dunning from the Crawling Stone Ranch, had
been caught west of the bridge the very night of the fire. They had
been loaded at Tipton and shipped to catch a good market, and under
extravagant promises from the live-stock agent of a quick run to
Chicago. When Lance Dunning learned that his cattle had been caught
west of the break and would have to be unloaded, he swore up a horse
in hot haste and started for Medicine Bend. McCloud, who had not
closed his eyes for sixty hours, had just got into Medicine Bend from
Smoky Creek and was sitting at his desk buried in a mass of papers,
but he ordered the cattleman admitted. He was, in fact, eager to meet
the manager of the big ranch and the cousin of Dicksie. Lance Dunning
stood above six feet in height, and was a handsome man, in spite of
the hard lines around his eyes, as he walked in; but neither his
manner nor his expression was amiable.

"Are you Mr. McCloud? I've been here three times this afternoon to see
you," said he, ignoring McCloud's answer and a proffered chair. "This
is your office, isn't it?"

McCloud, a little surprised, answered again and civilly: "It certainly
is; but I have been at Smoky Creek for two or three days."

"What have you done with my cattle?"

"The Duck Bar train was run back to Point of Rocks and the cattle were
unloaded at the yard."

Lance Dunning spoke with increasing harshness: "By whose order was
that done? Why wasn't I notified? Have they had feed or water?"

"All the stock caught west of the bridge was sent back for feed and
water by my orders. It has all been taken care of. You sh