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“And whom may I say the message is from?”<br/></p>
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<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:30px;margin-top:20px;font-size:2.2em;'>WHISPERING<br/>SMITH</p>
<p class='tp' >BY</p>
<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;margin-bottom:40px;'>FRANK H. SPEARMAN</p>
<p class='tp' >ILLUSTRATED BY N. C. WYETH AND<br/>WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO-<br/>PLAY PRODUCED BY THE SIGNAL<br/>FILM CORPORATION</p>
<div style='margin:40px auto; text-align:center;'><ANTIMG alt='emblem' src='images/illus-emb.png' /></div>
<p class='tp' >NEW YORK</p>
<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.4em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p>
<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:30px;'>PUBLISHERS</p>
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<td> </td></tr>
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<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'>Published by Arrangement with Charles Scribner’s Sons</p>
<hr class='pb' />
<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-top:20px;'><span class='smcap'>Copyright, 1906, by</span></p>
<p class='tp' >CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p>
<hr class='p10' />
<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;margin-bottom:40px;'>Published September, 1906</p>
<div style='margin:10px auto; text-align:center;'><ANTIMG alt='emblem' src='images/illus-em2.png' /></div>
<hr class='pb' />
<p class='tp' style='margin-top:40px;'>TO MY SON</p>
<p class='tp' style='font-size:larger;'>THOMAS CLARK SPEARMAN</p>
<p class='tp' >IN MEMORY OF</p>
<p class='tp' style='margin-bottom:40px;'>A PIEDMONT WINTER</p>
<hr class='pb' />
<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>CHAPTER</span></td>
<td />
<td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:0.8em'>PAGE</span></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>I.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Wrecking Boss</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_I_THE_WRECKING_BOSS'>1</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>II.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At Smoky Creek</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_II_AT_SMOKY_CREEK'>10</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>III.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Dicksie</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_III_DICKSIE'>23</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>George McCloud</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_IV_GEORGE_MCCLOUD'>33</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>V.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Crawling Stone</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_V_THE_CRAWLING_STONE'>51</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Final Appeal</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_VI_THE_FINAL_APPEAL'>60</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>In Marion’s Shop</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_VII_IN_MARIONS_SHOP'>64</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>VIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Smoky Creek Bridge</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_VIII_SMOKY_CREEK_BRIDGE'>71</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>IX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Misunderstanding</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_IX_THE_MISUNDERSTANDING'>76</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>X.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Sweeping Orders</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_X_SWEEPING_ORDERS'>88</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At the Three Horses</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XI_AT_THE_THREE_HORSES'>93</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Parley</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XII_PARLEY'>103</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Turn in the Storm</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XIII_THE_TURN_IN_THE_STORM'>122</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Quarrel</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XIV_THE_QUARREL'>131</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Shot in the Pass</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XV_THE_SHOT_IN_THE_PASS'>141</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At the Wickiup</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XVI_AT_THE_WICKIUP'>148</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Test</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XVII_A_TEST'>155</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XVIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>New Plans</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XVIII_NEW_PLANS'>162</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XIX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Crawling Stone Rise</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XIX_THE_CRAWLING_STONE_RISE'>169</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At the Dike</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XX_AT_THE_DIKE'>179</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Supper in Camp</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXI_SUPPER_IN_CAMP'>197</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Talk With Whispering Smith</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXII_A_TALK_WITH_WHISPERING_SMITH'>207</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At the River</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXIII_AT_THE_RIVER'>217</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Between Girlhood and Womanhood</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXIV_BETWEEN_GIRLHOOD_AND_WOMANHOOD'>225</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Man on the Frenchman</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXV_THE_MAN_ON_THE_FRENCHMAN'>242</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Tower W</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXVI_TOWER_W'>256</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Pursuit</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXVII_PURSUIT'>262</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXVIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Sunday Murder</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXVIII_THE_SUNDAY_MURDER'>271</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXIX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Williams Cache</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXIX_WILLIAMS_CACHE'>281</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Fight in the Cache</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXX_THE_FIGHT_IN_THE_CACHE'>292</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Death of Du Sang</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXI_THE_DEATH_OF_DU_SANG'>305</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Mcloud and Dicksie</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXII_MCLOUD_AND_DICKSIE'>312</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Laugh of a Woman</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXIII_THE_LAUGH_OF_A_WOMAN'>320</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXIV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Midnight Visit</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXIV_A_MIDNIGHT_VISIT'>327</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>The Call</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXV_THE_CALL'>334</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXVI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Duty</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXVI_DUTY'>340</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXVII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Wickwire</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXVII_WICKWIRE'>346</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXVIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Into the North</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXVIII_INTO_THE_NORTH'>352</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XXXIX.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Among the Coyotes</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XXXIX_AMONG_THE_COYOTES'>361</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XL.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>A Sympathetic Ear</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XL_A_SYMPATHETIC_EAR'>373</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XLI.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Dicksie’s Ride</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XLI_DICKSIES_RIDE'>379</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XLII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>At the Door</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XLII_AT_THE_DOOR'>389</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XLIII.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Closing In</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XLIII_CLOSING_IN'>395</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XLIV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Crawling Stone Wash</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XLIV_CRAWLING_STONE_WASH'>403</SPAN></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign='top' class='chalgn'>XLV.</td>
<td valign='top' align='left' style='padding-right:4em;'><span class='smcap'>Back to the Mountains</span></td>
<td valign='bottom' align='right'><SPAN href='#CHAPTER_XLV_BACK_TO_THE_MOUNTAINS'>413</SPAN></td>
</tr>
</table>
<hr class='pb' />
<h1>Whispering Smith</h1>
<div class='chsp'>
<SPAN name='CHAPTER_I_THE_WRECKING_BOSS' id='CHAPTER_I_THE_WRECKING_BOSS'></SPAN>
<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
<h3>THE WRECKING BOSS</h3></div>
<p>News of the wreck at Smoky Creek reached
Medicine Bend from Point of Rocks at
five o’clock. Sinclair, in person, was overseeing
the making up of his wrecking train, and the yard,
usually quiet at that hour of the morning, was alive
with the hurry of men and engines. In the trainmaster’s
room of the weather-beaten headquarters
building, nicknamed by railroad men “The Wickiup,”
early comers––sleepy-faced, keen-eyed trainmen––lounged
on the tables and in chairs discussing
the reports from Point of Rocks, and among
them crew-callers and messengers moved in and
out. From the door of the big operators’ room,
pushed at intervals abruptly open, burst a blaze of
light and the current crash of many keys; within,
behind glass screens, alert, smooth-faced boys in
shirt sleeves rained calls over the wires or bent with
flying pens above clips, taking incoming messages.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_2' name='page_2'></SPAN>2</span>
At one end of the room, heedless of the strain
on the division, press despatches and cablegrams
clicked in monotonous relay over commercial wires;
while at the other, operators were taking from the
despatchers’ room the train orders and the hurried
dispositions made for the wreck emergency by
Anderson, the assistant superintendent. At a table
in the alcove the chief operator was trying to reach
the division superintendent, McCloud, at Sleepy
Cat; at his elbow, his best man was ringing the
insistent calls of the despatcher and clearing the
line for Sinclair and the wrecking gang. Two minutes
after the wrecking train reported ready they
had their orders and were pulling out of the upper
yard, with right of way over everything to Point
of Rocks.</p>
<p>The wreck had occurred just west of the creek.
A fast east-bound freight train, double-headed, had
left the track on the long curve around the hill, and
when the wrecking train backed through Ten Shed
Cut the sun streamed over the heaps of jammed and
twisted cars strung all the way from the point of
the curve to the foot of Smoky Hill. The crew
of the train that lay in the ditch walked slowly
up the track to where the wreckers had pulled up,
and the freight conductor asked for Sinclair. Men
rigging the derrick pointed to the hind car. The
conductor, swinging up the caboose steps, made his
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_3' name='page_3'></SPAN>3</span>
way inside among the men that were passing out
tools. The air within was bluish-thick with tobacco
smoke, but through the haze the freightman saw
facing him, in the far corner of the den-like interior,
a man seated behind an old dining-car table, finishing
his breakfast; one glimpse was enough to identify
the dark beard of Sinclair, foreman of the
bridges and boss of the wrecking gang.</p>
<p>Beside him stood a steaming coffee-tank, and in
his right hand he held an enormous tin cup that he
was about to raise to his mouth when he saw the
freight conductor. With a laugh, Sinclair threw
up his left hand and beckoned him over. Then he
shook his hair just a little, tossed back his head,
opened an unusual mouth, drained the cup at a
gulp, and cursing the freightman fraternally, exclaimed,
“How many cars have you ditched this
time?”</p>
<p>The trainman, a sober-faced fellow, answered
dryly, “All I had.”</p>
<p>“Running too fast, eh?” glared Sinclair.</p>
<p>With the box cars piled forty feet high on the
track, the conductor was too old a hand to begin
a controversy. “Our time’s fast,” was all he
said.</p>
<p>Sinclair rose and exclaimed, “Come on!” And
the two, leaving the car, started up the track. The
wrecking boss paid no attention to his companion
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_4' name='page_4'></SPAN>4</span>
as they forged ahead, but where the train had hit
the curve he scanned the track as he would a blue
print. “They’ll have your scalp for this,” he declared
abruptly.</p>
<p>“I reckon they will.”</p>
<p>“What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Stevens.”</p>
<p>“Looks like all day for you, doesn’t it? No
matter; I guess I can help you out.”</p>
<p>Where the merchandise cars lay, below the
switch, the train crew knew that a tramp had been
caught. At intervals they heard groans under the
wreckage, which was piled high there. Sinclair
stopped at the derrick, and the freight conductor
went on to where his brakeman had enlisted two of
Sinclair’s giants to help get out the tramp. A
brake beam had crushed the man’s legs, and the
pallor of his face showed that he was hurt internally,
but he was conscious and moaned softly.
The men had started to carry him to the way car
when Sinclair came up, asked what they were doing,
and ordered them back to the wreck. They hastily
laid the tramp down. “But he wants water,” protested
a brakeman who was walking behind, carrying
his arm in a sling.</p>
<p>“Water!” bawled Sinclair. “Have my men
got nothing to do but carry a tramp to water? Get
ahead there and help unload those refrigerators.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_5' name='page_5'></SPAN>5</span>
He’ll find water fast enough. Let the damned
hobo crawl down to the creek after it.”</p>
<p>The tramp was too far gone for resentment;
he had fainted when they laid him down, and his
half-glazed eyes, staring at the sky, gave no evidence
that he heard anything.</p>
<p>The sun rose hot, for in the Red Desert sky there
is rarely a cloud. Sinclair took the little hill nearest
the switch to bellow his orders from, running
down among the men whenever necessary to help
carry them out. Within thirty minutes, though
apparently no impression had been made on the
great heaps of wrenched and splintered equipment,
Sinclair had the job in hand.</p>
<p>Work such as this was the man’s genius. In
handling a wreck Sinclair was a marvel among
mountain men. He was tall but not stout, with
flashing brown eyes and a strength always equal
to that of the best man in his crew. But his inspiration
lay in destruction, and the more complete
the better. There were no futile moves under
Sinclair’s quick eyes, no useless pulling and hauling,
no false grappling; but like a raven at a
feast, every time his derrick-beak plucked at the
wreck he brought something worth while away.
Whether he was righting a tender, rerailing an
engine, tearing out a car-body, or swinging a set
of trucks into the clear, Sinclair, men said, had
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_6' name='page_6'></SPAN>6</span>
luck, and no confusion in day or night was great
enough to drown his heavy tones or blur his rapid
thinking.</p>
<p>Just below where the wrecking boss stood lay
the tramp. The sun scorched his drawn face, but
he made no effort to turn from it. Sometimes he
opened his eyes, but Sinclair was not a promising
source of help, and no one that might have helped
dared venture within speaking distance of the injured
man. When the heat and the pain at last
extorted a groan and an appeal, Sinclair turned.
“Damn you, ain’t you dead yet? What?
Water?” He pointed to a butt standing in
the shade of a car that had been thrown out
near the switch. “There’s water; go get it!”
The cracking of a box car as the derrick wrenched
it from the wreck was engaging the attention of the
boss, and as he saw the grapple slip he yelled to
his men and pointed to the chains.</p>
<p>The tramp lay still a long time. At last he began
to drag himself toward the butt. In the glare
of the sun timbers strained and snapped, and men
with bars and axes chopped and wrenched at the
massive frames and twisted iron on the track. The
wrecking gang moved like ants in and out of the
shapeless débris, and at intervals, as the sun rose
higher, the tramp dragged himself nearer the butt.
He lay on the burning sand like a crippled insect,
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_7' name='page_7'></SPAN>7</span>
crawling, and waiting for strength to crawl. To
him there was no railroad and no wreck, but only
the blinding sun, the hot sand, the torture of thirst,
and somewhere water, if he could reach it.</p>
<p>The freight conductor, Stevens, afraid of no
man, had come up to speak to Sinclair, and Sinclair,
with a smile, laid a cordial hand on his shoulder.
“Stevens, it’s all right. I’ll get you out of
this. Come here.” He led the conductor down the
track where they had walked in the morning. He
pointed to flange-marks on the ties. “See there––there’s
where the first wheels left the track, and
they left on the inside of the curve; a thin flange
under the first refrigerator broke. I’ve got the
wheel itself back there for evidence. They can’t
talk fast running against that. Damn a private
car-line, anyway! Give me a cigar––haven’t got
any? Great guns, man, there’s a case of Key Wests
open up ahead; go fill your pockets and your grip.
Don’t be bashful; you’ve got friends on the division
if you are Irish, eh?”</p>
<p>“Sure, only I don’t smoke,” said Stevens, with
diplomacy.</p>
<p>“Well, you drink, don’t you? There’s a barrel
of brandy open at the switch.”</p>
<p>The brandy-cask stood up-ended near the water-butt,
and the men dipped out of both with cups.
They were working now half naked at the wreck.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_8' name='page_8'></SPAN>8</span>
The sun hung in a cloudless sky, the air was still,
and along the right of way huge wrecking fires
added to the scorching heat. Ten feet from the
water-butt lay a flattened mass of rags. Crusted
in smoke and blood and dirt, crushed by a vise of
beams and wheels out of human semblance, and left
now an aimless, twitching thing, the tramp clutched
at Stevens’s foot as he passed. “Water!”</p>
<p>“Hello, old boy, how the devil did you get
here?” exclaimed Stevens, retreating in alarm.</p>
<p>“Water!”</p>
<p>Stevens stepped to the butt and filled a cup.
The tramp’s eyes were closed. Stevens poured the
water over his face; then he lifted the man’s head
and put a cupful to his lips.</p>
<p>“Is that hobo alive yet?” asked Sinclair, coming
back smoking a cigar. “What does he want
now? Water? Don’t waste any time on him.”</p>
<p>“It’s bad luck refusing water,” muttered Stevens,
holding the cup.</p>
<p>“He’ll be dead in a minute,” growled Sinclair.</p>
<p>The sound of his voice roused the failing man to
a fury. He opened his bloodshot eyes, and with the
dregs of an ebbing vitality cursed Sinclair with a
frenzy that made Stevens draw back. If Sinclair
was startled he gave no sign. “Go to hell!” he
exclaimed harshly.</p>
<p>With a ghastly effort the man made his retort.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_9' name='page_9'></SPAN>9</span>
He held up his blood-soaked fingers. “I’m going
all right––I know that,” he gasped, with a curse,
“but I’ll come back for you!”</p>
<p>Sinclair, unshaken, stood his ground. He repeated
his imprecation more violently; but Stevens,
swallowing, stole out of hearing. As he disappeared,
a train whistled in the west.
<span class='pagenum pncolor'><SPAN name='page_10' name='page_10'></SPAN>10</span></p>
<hr class='toprule' />
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<SPAN name='CHAPTER_II_AT_SMOKY_CREEK' id='CHAPTER_II_AT_SMOKY_CREEK'></SPAN>
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