d Grant sat still, with care in
his face, staring straight in front of him.

XXIV

THE STOCK TRAIN

It was almost unpleasantly hot in the little iron-roofed room at the
railroad depot, and the agent, who flung the door open, stood still a
minute or two blinking into the darkness. A big lamp that flickered in the
wind cast an uncertain gleam upon the slushy whiteness under foot, and the
blurred outline of a towering water-tank showed dimly through the sliding
snow. He could also just discern the great locomotive waiting on the
side-track, and the sibilant hiss of steam that mingled with the moaning
of the wind whirling a white haze out of the obscurity. Beyond the track,
and showing only now and then, the lights of the wooden town blinked
fitfully; on the other hand and behind the depot was an empty waste of
snow-sheeted prairie. The temperature had gone up suddenly, but the agent
shivered as he felt the raw dampness strike through him, and, closing the
door, took off and shook his jacket and sat down by the stove again.

He wore a white shirt of unusually choice linen, with other garments of
fashionable city cut, for a station agent is a person of importance in the
West, and this one was at least as consequential as most of the rest. He
had finished his six o'clock supper at the wooden hotel a little earlier;
and as the next train going west would not arrive for two or three hours,
he took out a rank cigar, and, placing his feet upon a chair, prepared to
doze the time away, though he laid a bundle of accounts upon his knee, in
case anyone should come in unexpectedly. This, however, was distinctly
improbable on such a night.

The stove flung out a drowsy heat, and it was not long before his eyes
grew heavy. He could still hear the wailing of the wind and the swish of
the snow that whirled about the lonely building, and listened for a while
with tranquil contentment; for the wild weather he was not exposed to
enhanced the comfort of the warmth and brightness he enjoyed. Then, the
sounds grew less distinct and he heard nothing at all until he
straightened himself suddenly in his chair as a cold draught struck him. A
few flakes of snow also swept into the room and he saw that the door was
open.

"Hallo!" he called. "Wait there a moment. I guess this place doesn't
belong to you."

A man who looked big and shapeless in his whitened furs signed to somebody
outside without answering, and four or five other men i