bowl of the cutty, but Sammy
Durgan's attention was not on it.

Sammy Durgan, in a sort of strained way, descended the embankment. The
match burned his fingers, and Sammy Durgan dropped it. Sammy Durgan
rubbed his eyes--yes, it was still glistening away there in the
sunlight. He stooped, and from the grass, trembling a little with
excitement, picked up a heavy-calibered, nickel-trimmed revolver.

"Holy Christmas!" whispered Sammy Durgan, blinking fast. "'Tis the
same! There's no doubt of it--'tis the same that done the bloody deed!
And 'tis the first bit of luck I've had since I was born! Twenty-five
dollars reward!" He said it over very softly again: "Twenty-five
dollars reward!"

Sammy Durgan returned to the track, and resumed his way along it;
though, as far as his services to the road were concerned, he might
just as well have remained where he was. Sammy Durgan's thoughts were
not of loosened spikes and erring fishplates, and neither were his eyes
intent on their discovery--his mind, thanks to Labatt, of the Big Cloud
_Daily Sentinel_, teemed with scenes of violence vividly portrayed,
midnight murders, corpses in grotesque attitudes on gore-bespattered
compartment floors, desperadoes of all descriptions, train bandits and
train robbers in masks holding up trains.

"'Tis true," said Sammy Durgan to himself. "'Tis a lawless country,
these same Rockies. I mind 'twas only a year ago that Black Dempsey
and his gang tried to wreck Number Two in the Cut near Coyote Bend--I
mind it well."

Sammy Durgan walked on down the track. At intervals he took the
revolver from his pocket and put it back again, as though to assure
himself beyond peradventure of doubt that it was in his possession.

"Twenty-five dollars reward!" communed Sammy Durgan, grown arrogant
with wealth. "'Tis near a month's pay at a dollar-ten--and all for the
picking of it up. I called it luck--but it is not luck. An ordinary
track-walker would have walked it by and not seen it. 'Tis what you
get for keeping your eyes about you, and besides the twenty-five 'tis
promotion, too, mabbe I'll get. 'Twill show 'em that there's
track-walkers _and_ track-walkers. I'll say to Regan: 'Regan,' I'll
say, 'you've said hard words to me, Regan, but I ask you, Regan, how
many track-walkers would have brought a bloody murderer to justice by
keeping their eyes about them in the faithful performance of their
duty, Regan? 'Tis but the chance I ask. 'Ti