The next second they came in sight and charged for the street. I aimed and fired; I hit this time; one of the horses went down and the man over his head. The other six came straight for the end of the street. I fired again, but saw no results. I counted on the drift stopping them. It did so less than I expected. Two went down in the snow; four came on. I fired and one man dropped off his horse. The hard crust was holding the other three. I fired again, but it did no good. Then the head one, on a pinto pony, went down like a flash out of sight, horse and man. He had gone into tunnel No. 3, leading to Townsend's store.

I fired three shots as fast as I could work the lever, without stopping to aim. Then I looked out. The other two riders had turned tail. The horse of one had gone down in the snow and he was running away on foot; the other had got off the drifts without going down. I thought it was Pike. It seemed a good time to shoot at him, and I did so, but without so much as touching him, as I think. The man in the tunnel got out and dodged around the corner of Townsend's store before I could do my duty by him. They were all the next minute at the depot, either in it or behind it.

This thing of their taking the depot was something which I had not thought of. They were now as well covered and protected as I; and it was still seven against one, because the man that I shot off of his horse got over with the others by the help of one whose horse went down in the drift. But their building was more exposed than mine, and they could do nothing about their robbery so long as they stayed there.

They now began to fire their first shots since the one which followed me into Townsend's store. They were well-aimed shots, too, and the bullets came through my window as if the planks were gingerbread. A splinter of wood struck my left eye and closed it up; but I had it shut most of the time anyhow, aiming with the other, so it didn't matter. However, I didn't like the place, and went back into the room in the northwest corner and got a range on them from one of the front windows. I thought their bullets would glance off of the planks here, and they did; however, the ones which struck the side came right on through, lath partitions and all; but I kept close to the floor. All the time Kaiser stayed close behind me, barking so that I thought he would tear himself to pieces, and with the hair on his back standing straight up.

I had two rifles and a hundred or more cartridges, and I began to give the depot a pretty stiff bombarding. I don't think I missed the building once, and I knew every ball went through the side; but what they did after that I couldn't tell. There were three windows in the depot on the side toward me, all close together near the east end, but none at all to the right of them. None of them were boarded up, and the robbers were pretty careful about showing themselves much at them. They gradually dropped off the platform on the other side and crawled under to the front from where I had watched the Indians that day. They were well protected here, but the wind swept across the west end of the square and blew such a spray of snow in their faces that they could not see to aim well. On the other hand the sun had now got up and the reflection came in my eyes and hurt my shooting. I wished that the horse was out of the way so I could get through tunnel No. 3 into Townsend's, where a side window, well planked, looked right down on the depot; but it was just as well that I couldn't, as I found out afterward.

They were still thinking that there was a large population in Track's End, and I could see splinters flying all over town where they were plugging away at windows and doors.

I soon noticed that they were not shooting quite so much, and thought some of them might be sneaking around and thinking of coming up from the west, so I went through to the bank once in a while, firing a few shots from its front window at the depot so as to keep up their large-population idea. At the third visit I looked out back and saw a man run from the coal-shed to behind the water-tank. I got ready and waited. Another ran across. I gave him a shot which made him jump. Then I fired half a dozen shots through the inclosed part below the tank, and if any of the balls missed the big timbers they must have gone through. I thought those fellows would keep awhile, and ran back to the hotel and began to pepper away at the depot again. This I kept up for an hour, I think, when I caught a glimpse of one of the men from the tank going back, and thought likely they had both gone.

The outlaws made just one more rally, and it was very well planned, and if I had not been expecting it it might, after all, have gone hard with the town of Track's End. All at once they began an uncommonly lively firing from under the depot platform. I thought this might mean a charge from the other side, so I started to see. Joyce's store ran back farther than any of the others on that side of the street, and had a side window near the back corner; so I went there instead of to the bank.

It was slow work crawling under the sidewalk and getting up through the trap-door, but I made it at last and ran to the window. Two of the men were charging straight across the square for the rear of Townsend's, carrying a big torch of sticks and twisted hay. The window was not boarded up, but I stuck my rifle barrel through the glass and fired at them. The bullet, I think, struck the torch, because I saw the fire fly in all directions. They dropped it and retreated in a great panic, while I shot again.

I ran back to the hotel and began shooting once more at the depot. They never fired another shot. I went over to the bank and from the back window I could see them going away to the southwest, keeping under cover of the tank and coal-shed. They came around up on to the grade a half-mile to the west. I had a look at them through the glass. Some were walking and some riding. There seemed to be two men on one horse. I think that more than one of them was wounded, but the drifting snow now made it hard to see. I went back through the hotel and down the street to watch them from the tower above the snow. The pony which had fallen into the tunnel was still there. I noticed it wore an expensive Mexican saddle, all heavy embossed leather, with a high cantle, silver ornaments, big tapaderos on the stirrups, and a horsehair bridle with silver bit. There was a red blanket rolled up and tied on behind the saddle.

As I went by Townsend's I saw that the window I wanted to get to was as full of holes as a skimmer, and I was glad the horse had blocked up my way. I noticed that the depot wasn't much better off, however, for holes. I went up the tower and watched the outlaws for half an hour. They stopped a few minutes at Mountain's to get their extra horses and then went on.

The wind was coming fresher all the time and I was pretty well chilled when I got down. I was hurrying along across the drifts to the hotel when I noticed the horse in the tunnel again. But his fine saddle and bridle were gone. I knew instantly that it must be the work of my unknown night visitor, who had not stolen anything for some time. This was the first thing that had been disturbed by daylight; it was growing bolder. My heart had behaved itself so well during the fight that I had forgotten that I had such a thing; now it started to thumping so hard that I thought it was all there was to me.



CHAPTER XVIII

After the Fight: also a true Account of the great Blizzard: with how I go to sleep in the Stronghold and am awakened before Morning.

So that is the true history of the fight, just as it all happened at Track's End, Territory of Dakota, on Saturday, February 5th; and thus, through good luck and being well intrenched behind my fortifications, and having plenty of Winchesters, I beat off the cutthroat outlaws and held the town. If they had waited one day longer for their coming they would have waited a good while longer; for the next day there came such a blizzard as I had never seen before nor since, which roared without ceasing six days, lacking twelve hours; and for two weeks more the weather stayed bad, and seemed to have relapses, as they say of a person sick. No robbers could have come through it, but the ones that had come got back to their headquarters through the first of it, as I have good reason to know.

And for almost six weeks after the fight I lived regularly and without much disturbance, with Kaiser and the other animals for company by day and the howling of the wolves and my own thoughts by night. If the thoughts had given me no more trouble than the wolves I should have been happy, for I think I had got so that I could not sleep unless there was a wolf howling somewhere about in the neighborhood. The loneliness, the dread of the outlaws coming back, the mystery of what or who was in or near the wretched town besides myself, all kept with me and made me wish ten thousand times that I had never heard of the place, or of any place except home.

Though of course I did not keep so miserable all the while. There was plenty of work to be done, and I kept at it most of the time. My eye soon got well. The day after I beat off the outlaws and had a little recovered from the work and strain of that and of the strange start the disappearance of the saddle gave me, I found so many things waiting to be done that I scarce knew what to turn my hand to first. But I had thought the poor pony in the tunnel deserved to be got out before anything else was done; and this I attended to an hour after the robbers had gone. I went out half expecting to find it gone, too, with its saddle; but it was not.

It was quite tired out and stood hanging its head. To get it out the way it had tumbled in would take a great amount of shoveling in the hard snow, I soon saw, so I decided I would try to lead it through the tunnel and on out by way of the hotel, though it seemed an odd thing to do. So I put a halter on it and tried that plan, and though its back scraped a little in places, what with me ahead and with Kaiser behind barking a good deal, we got it along and into the office and then on through the storeroom and kitchen and out to the barn. Dick and Ned were much excited by the new arrival, and so for that matter was Blossom; and Crazy Jane was like to have cackled her head off. The poor things were the same as I, half dead from lonesomeness.

Then I straightened up things about town which had been put out of order by the fight, fixed the fires again and cleaned up the guns. I didn't forget to go up the windmill tower several times to have a look for the outlaws, but I saw no more of them. Another thing I did was to lay some big slabs of frozen snow over the hole in the tunnel where the pony fell through, and it was a good thing I did this or I believe the blizzard would have gone near to filling the whole tunnel system. As it was it piled on more snow and covered all trace of the robbers' charge on the street.

I think it would not be possible for me to make you understand what a blizzard that was, which began the next day and kept up for the best part of a whole week. All day and night it roared and pushed at the windows and drove the snow in every crack and hole; here piled it up and there swept it away clean down to the ground. Not once did I go out beyond the tunnels. The fire at the depot I let go out, and the others I kept up more to have something to do than for any use they were, because I knew no outlaws could ever come in such a storm.

While the blizzard lasted I had a hard time to find enough to do to keep my mind off of my troubles. In an old recipe-book, which I found in the closet under the stairs, it told how to tan skins, so I began tanning my wolf-skins. I whittled out some puzzles, too, and made a leather collar for Pawsy; but she would not wear it. I forgot to say that after the fight I found her in her old place over the door. I taught Kaiser some tricks, too, and gave the cat a chance to improve herself in the same way, but she refused the opportunity.

I did some reading, too, during these days. There was little to read in the Headquarters House, but among Tom Carr's things I found a book by Doctor Kane, telling of his life in the arctic regions, and this I enjoyed a great deal, feeling that I was in a country not much warmer, and that I must be more lonely than he was, since he always had human companions, while I had not one. In Mr. Clerkinwell's rooms over the bank I found some other books, all with very fine leather covers. Some of these I took the liberty of borrowing, but was very careful of them. One was The Pilgrim's Progress, and I liked most of it exceedingly, especially the fight in the king's highway which Christian had with Apollyon. Another book was a story, very entertaining, by Charles Dickens, about little Pip and the convict who came back from Australia; I felt very sorry for Pip when he had to go out on the wet marshes so early, he being so little and the marshes so big.

There was another thing that I tried to amuse myself with, being nothing less than music. I found an old banjo belonging to Tom Carr and an accordion which Andrew had left behind. The banjo I could not do much with, but when I saw the accordion I said to myself that if I could blow the bellows in my father's forge, I ought to be able to work an accordion. So I went at it, hammer and tongs, and soon could produce a great noise, though mighty dismal, I think, and maybe what you would (had you heard it) have called heartrending, since whenever I started up Kaiser would point his nose to the ceiling and howl, very sad indeed. I think when one of our concerts was going on that could a guest have arrived at the Headquarters House he would have thought he had found a home for lunatics and not a hotel for an honest traveler who could pay his way.

During the blizzard also I drew up in black and white a programme for each day which I decided I must follow out when the weather became better; though I had lived up to most of it from the first. Thus it was:

Five o'clock—Get up, start fire in hotel and make cup of coffee.

Five-thirty—Inspect fires in bank and three stores.

Six o'clock—Feed horses and cow and chickens, and milk cow.

Six-thirty—Get breakfast for self and Kaiser and Pawsy (which included washing the dishes, a hard job).

Seven-thirty—Inspect depot fire and climb windmill tower and look over country with glass.

Eight o'clock—Finish work at barn; and for two hours such miscellaneous work as might be doing, as tunnels or other fortifications.

Ten o'clock—Windmill mounting again; miscellaneous work for two hours.

Noon—Dinner for family and work at barn.

One-thirty—Inspection of fires and windmill mounting; followed by miscellaneous work.

Three o'clock—Windmill mounting; miscellaneous work.

Four-thirty—Final daylight inspection of country from windmill; miscellaneous work.

Six o'clock—Supper and work at barn.

Eight o'clock—General inspection of fires and town, including observation from windmill for lights or fires.

Nine o'clock—Bed.

This system I followed out pretty closely whenever the weather was at all fair. When there was no miscellaneous work I would practise on the skees, shoot at the target, or something of this sort. Quite often on days when the weather would allow (though there were few enough of them) I would go up around and beyond the Butte on a little hunt. I got several jack-rabbits and three more wolves. One of the wolves I left outside the shed, forgetting it. In the morning it was gone. There were not many thefts, however, and the shed was not broken into any more; though, to be sure, I had made the door twice as strong as it was before, and kept everything about town carefully and strongly locked, especially the buildings where the guns and ammunition were.

During the worst storms I used to sleep on the lounge in the hotel office, but at other times I always retired to the other building and took in the drawbridge. Two or three times, just for a change, I took Kaiser and slept in the fire stronghold. Kaiser and Pawsy still remained as much company for me as they had been from the first. What I should ever have done in that solitude without them I don't know. The great bushy wag of Kaiser's tail, and the loud purr of the cat, were the two things that cheered me more than anything else. I do believe that cat to have had the loudest purr of any cat that ever lived. A young tiger need not have been ashamed of it. And as for the grand wave and flourish of Kaiser's tail, it is beyond all description.

On one of my rabbit-hunting trips, about a week after the big blizzard, I very foolishly got both of my feet frost-bitten and paid the full penalty. The day seemed not quite so cold, and I did not put on the heavy pair of woolen stockings which I commonly wore outside of my shoes and inside of my overshoes. I crouched behind a snowbank beyond the Butte for some time waiting for a rabbit which I saw to come within range, something which he did not do, and was so interested in this that I did not notice what was happening to my feet. But what had happened was quite plain enough when I got home and a great ache set up in my toes. I got the dish-pan full of snow and thrust my feet in, to draw out the frost gradually; but this did not save me.

Two days later I was fairly laid up. One whole day I could scarce crawl about the hotel office and keep the fire going. I could not get to the barn to feed the animals, though they were suffering for food and water; and what I called my war-fires in the other buildings I knew were out. My feet were much swollen, and the pain and the worry must have brought on a fever, and I lay on the lounge all day expecting nothing less than a fit of sickness; and what will become of me? I asked myself. I had no appetite for food, which alarmed me very greatly. I remember no day of my life at Track's End which seemed darker to me.

Toward night I fell asleep, and awoke with Kaiser licking my face and whining. I remembered that I had seen in the pantry a package of boneset, an herb by which my father set great store, holding it a sovereign remedy for all common complaints. I roused up, and by clinging to the back of a chair hobbled after it, and steeped myself a large mugful, very hot, and I believe it did me good. Be this as it may, as the saying is, I was better the next day, and managed to feed the poor, hungry creatures at the barn; and the day after I was able to start the fires. But for a week my feet were very painful, and I suffered much.

It was a little more cheerful as the days began to get longer as February went on, and in the latter part of the month I thought the weather seemed to grow slightly better on the whole. For three days after the big blizzard the thermometer had stood from forty to forty-five below zero each morning, and it did not get up much higher at any time during the day. On the last two days of February it thawed a little in the afternoon, and on March 2d the snow was soft enough so I could make snowballs to throw at Kaiser; but it soon turned cold again.

There were northern lights many nights, flaming all over the heavens, like long swords, and on the night of February 15th there were some more prodigious than I would believe were possible had I not seen them with these eyes. They hung, wavering and trembling, over the whole northern sky almost to the zenith, like the lower edges of vast, mighty curtains, swaying and moving, now here, now there, and with all colors, yellow, violet, scarlet, blood red, as if the whole heavens were going to burn up, the thing being so marvelous that had I not seen lesser displays before I should have thought the world were at an end, no less, and have died, I do believe, of terror. As it was I stood in the snow by the barn gazing till my feet were like blocks of ice and I knew not if I were in Track's End or in the moon. Kaiser at first barked at the sight, then growled, then whined, and next ran yelping away to the shed, where I found him crept beneath a bench. Never in my life before nor since have I seen anything to equal the heavens that night. Early on the morning of February 24th I saw a beautiful mirage. I could see plainly, high in the air, the timber and bluffs along the Missouri, and the Chain-of-Lakes and coteaux. It lasted for a full half-hour.



It happened on the night of March 14th that I took it into my head to sleep another night in the stronghold with Kaiser, and so brought about one more startling thing. It seemed that I must always be doing something instead of staying content with things as they were. It had been thawing a little for several days and I was beginning to wonder if I could not hope for such weather that the train might get through before long and release me from the awful place; though I knew the snow was packed in the cuts all along the line to the east like ice, and that it would take a great thaw to make any impression on it.

About nine o'clock I left the hotel, after carefully locking everything, and went through the tunnel to the barn with Kaiser, my rifle, and the lantern. I locked all the doors behind me, and then we crawled through the small door under Ned's manger, and that I fastened also. In the stronghold I rolled up in a blanket and the buffalo-robe with Kaiser beside me. I left the lantern burning in the tunnel just beyond my feet at the edge of the stack. Kaiser barked at something when we first got in; later I heard wolves sniffing about on the roof; then we both went to sleep.

Some time in the night I awoke; what woke me I suppose I shall never know. But when I awoke I sat up suddenly as if I had never been asleep. I was face to face with the worst-looking creature I had ever seen in my life, black and blear-eyed and ugly, on his hands and knees in the tunnel beyond the lantern drawing my gun toward him by the stock. Then Kaiser sprang up like any wild beast; but I held him back by the collar.



CHAPTER XIX

I find out who my Visitor is: with Something about him, but with more about the Chinook which came out of the Northwest: together with what I do with the Powder, and how I again wake up suddenly.

When I sat up there in the stronghold and saw that creature with the glare of the lantern on his hideous face I knew two things, and these were, first, that it was an Indian, and, second, that he was the thief who had made me so much trouble, though how I knew this latter I can't say. I knew, too, that I was at his mercy.

What I should have done first I don't know if it had not been for Kaiser, but he acted so that it took all my strength to quiet him. I saw it would not do to let him spring at the wretch, who was now squatting in the snow at the mouth of the tunnel with my gun on his knee, the muzzle pointed straight at me.

When at last Kaiser began to act like a reasonable being, I said to the Indian, pretty loud and sharp, so he wouldn't know I was scared:

"What do you want?"

He grunted and made a noise down in his throat, which I couldn't see meant anything. So I said:

"Don't understand. Where'd you come from?"

He only grunted again. I knew that a great many times an Indian will pretend he can't talk English when he can, so I kept at him.

"What you going to do with the gun?" I next asked him.

This seemed to interest him. He looked down at it over his thick eyelids and said in very good English:

"Shoot thieves. Steal Indians' ponies."

It flashed upon me that perhaps I could make him help me after all, though I could see that he was a renegade and a drunkard.

"Did you see the fight?" I asked, beginning vaguely to suspect the truth.

He gave a grunt which meant yes. "Heap good fight," he added.

"Will you help fight if they come again?"

He said nothing, but sat looking at Kaiser, who was still growling, and only kept back because I held him by the collar.

"Where do you stay?" I asked. He made no answer.

"How did you come here?" I went on.

"Other Indians," he said. "Long sleep—gone when wake up."

I thought I saw through the whole thing.

"Did you see face—all fire—looking at you down in cellar?"

He only gazed at me out of his little black eyes. I guessed that he had drunk more than the others and had gone to sleep before the bad spirit looked in at the window, and so had not seen it and had been left behind.

"Did you see barn burn—big fire?" I asked.

He made not a sound in reply to this.

"Give me the gun," I said.

He gave his head a little shake and jerked out a sharp grunt.

"Give it to me and I give you another to-morrow."

He made not a movement or sound. I could see that he had no intention of giving it up.

"Do you live in cellar?" I asked. He made the sound that seemed to mean yes. I remembered that I had not gone down into Fitzsimmons's cellar after the Indians went away because things were in such confusion that I saw I could do nothing with them. Since that I had had no occasion to go into the store at all. I had no doubt that he had stolen everything I had missed, but had been unable to get a gun before, because I had kept them very carefully under lock and key. I thought from his looks that he had probably lived principally on the liquor in the cellar, with the groceries that were in the store and what meat he had stolen from me. I could feel that it was getting colder in the stronghold, and guessed that he had broken open the tunnel, either purposely, after hearing Kaiser bark, or by accident when walking over it, as the thaw had weakened the roof a good deal.

"Want to get out," I said. "Go first!"

He pressed back close to the wall of the tunnel. "You go—take dog," he said. I made Kaiser go ahead, took the lantern and followed, saying "Come" to the Indian. He did so, simply stooping down, though I crawled on my hands and knees. Sure enough, the tunnel was broken down near the barn. We got out through the hole and went across the drifts to the open place back of the hotel. I tried again to get the gun away from him, but he hung on to it tighter than ever. I asked him if he were hungry, and he forgot to grunt and said "yes."

I brought out some food for him, and he stood in the shed and ate it like a hungry wolf. He gave a satisfied grunt when he got through, and I once more tried to get him to let me have the gun, but he hung to it without even a grunt, and started in the direction of the Fitzsimmons building. I went with him, as I could not understand how he had gone in and out for so long without my seeing some traces of it.

He stalked on in silence, his moccasins not making a sound on the hard snow. There was a well with a high curb a few feet behind the Fitzsimmons building and directly opposite the window through which I had shown the jack-lantern. There was now a big bank of snow as high as the well curb from it to the building. He stepped over in the well curb, and, without looking back, disappeared through a hole in the side of it where he had pried off some of the boards. He had borrowed one of my ideas and made a tunnel between the well and window.

I went back to the hotel, and though I did not like the notion of his having the gun, there was a great load gone from my mind. I saw that every mysterious happening could be explained by the presence of the Indian. I made no doubt he had set the livery stable on fire by using matches when visiting it to find something to steal. A few sounds and part of the glimpse I got of him that night when I watched in the shed would have to be charged to my imagination; but I guess it could stand it. I had to laugh at myself when I remembered how I had thought I heard strange noises before the Indians came at all.

I think I slept better the rest of the night (though it was only a few hours) than I had for a long time, notwithstanding the shock I got when I sat up and saw the Indian, when my heart, instead of beating too much, just stood still and didn't beat at all.

I saw nothing of the Indian the next morning, and after breakfast went to the Fitzsimmons store. I took the lantern and went down cellar. Everything was still in the greatest disorder. Boxes of groceries had been broken open, and empty cans were scattered everywhere. The missing saddle lay in one corner. I looked about for the Indian, and at first thought he was gone. But at last I found him half in a big box turned on its side, rolled up in blankets, some of which he had stolen from the bed in the hotel. One was a horse-blanket which I was sure came from the livery stable, so I now felt certain that he had been responsible for the fire. He was sound asleep. I poked him with my foot, but he did not move. I instantly knew that he had been drinking more of the whiskey and was sleeping off its effects. I picked up a hatchet, knocked off the spigot, and let the contents of the barrel run on the ground.

I took my lantern and started for the cellar-stairs. I glanced back at the Indian, and just as I did so he moved one foot a trifle and I saw something under it. I went back and looked closer and saw that it was the stock of my rifle, of which I had not once thought that morning. I instantly decided that I must get it away from him.

I stood my lantern in line with the foot of the stairs, knelt down and very slowly and cautiously began to pull the gun from beneath the Indian. He was lying on it full length, and I knew there was vast danger of waking him. He was much larger than I, and I made no doubt three times as strong. I fairly held my breath as the weapon slowly yielded to my efforts. I got it perhaps a third of the way out when it stuck fast, caught, perhaps, on some of the Indian's clothing. I pulled as hard as I could. It disturbed him, and he moved his feet, and then with one arm threw off the blanket from his shoulders. Like a flash I made up my mind to have that gun regardless of anything.

I jumped forward, and with my knees and hands rolled that savage over as if he had been a log of wood, grabbed the rifle, and started for the stairs. I snatched at the lantern, but missed it and knocked it over. The flame wavered for an instant and went out. Up the stairs in total darkness I swarmed on all fours, dragging the gun by the muzzle, so that had the hammer caught on anything I am sure the bullet had gone clean through my body. I slammed the door at the top, scrambled out a side window where I had got in, and ran across the drifts to the hotel like a scared coyote, sitting down in the office weak as a cat. I expected no less than that he would follow me, but he did not, and I question if he roused up further from his drunken stupor. Looking back I see what a coward I showed myself; but it seemed quite natural at the time.

It was this day, March 15th, that there began the big thaw. I could not hope spring had come to stay, and that there would be no more winter weather, but it gave me hope that a train might get through. I needed hope of some kind to keep up my spirits, because I felt that with a little good weather I could look for the Pike gang again. If I could have been sure that the train would come first I should have been gladder to see the thaw than anything else in the world; as it was I wished it might hold off till I could feel that spring had come in earnest.

The 15th was warm, but the snow melted very little. The next morning came the chinook. It was straight from the northwest, where all the blizzards had come from, but it was warmer than any south wind. All day it blew, and the snowbanks disappeared as if they were beside a hot stove. Before night there was a hole in the roof of tunnel No. 3. When I went to bed there were patches of bare ground and pools of water in the square.

The next morning the chinook was still blowing. It had been eating away at the snowbanks all night. I saw the top of the stronghold haystack from my bedroom window. Tunnel No. 1 had caved in. All day the wind kept up. By night the tunnel system was nothing but a lot of gaping cuts in the snow. The drifts had settled so much that the windows and doors were exposed, and it would soon be possible to ride on horseback along the street.

I had never seen a chinook wind before, of course, but Tom Carr had told me about them. This one was a strong, steady wind sweeping all day and all night straight from the northwest, and seemed to blow right through the drifts. I had rather have seen the snow going in any other way, because I knew this wind only followed the valley of the Missouri River and I was afraid that it did not reach far enough east to thaw out the cuts on the railroad so that the longed-for train could get through. But on the other hand it of course covered all of the country between Track's End and the outlaws' headquarters, and I knew that there was now nothing to hinder their coming; and I was afraid that if they did come I could not keep them off. This day the Indian came out for the first time. I tried to talk with him some more, but could not get much out of him. He cast some very black looks at me, as I supposed for my taking away the gun and, more important, probably, knocking the spigot off of that barrel.

This night I felt sure the outlaws would come again, and I did not go to bed at all. I stayed all night in Townsend's store, thinking to give them as warm a reception as I could. The next morning, the 18th, the chinook had stopped, but it was still thawing, though not so fast. There was scarcely any wind, but the sun was warm. I tried to take a nap after dinner, but I was too nervous. The prairie was half bare. The little drifts were all gone and the big ones had shrunk to little ones. There was a good deal of snow in the street yet, but it would be easy to ride through it. I walked about all day trying to think of what was best to do. I knew that I could not keep awake another night. At last I decided to try putting the Indian on guard part of the night. He had said (I thought that was what he meant) that the outlaws had stolen ponies from his tribe, and I concluded he could have no love for them, even if he had none for me. I found him in the store, but he was still sullen about the spigot.

"Want you to watch to-night for robbers," I said to him.

He only looked at me, so I repeated it, and added: "I will give you rifle, shoot if they come."

At this he grunted and said, "All right." He waited a moment and seemed to be thinking; then suddenly he raised his left hand tightly shut above his head, looked at it with half-closed eyes, and said, "Ugh! scalp 'em!"

It made my blood run cold to see that big savage standing there within arm's-length gloating over an imaginary scalp, knowing as I did that he would probably enjoy scalping me quite as much. But I said nothing except to make him understand that he could go to bed if he wanted to, and I would wake him when it was time. I thought I would stay up as long as I could myself.

Twenty times that day I climbed the windmill tower and looked one way for the outlaws and the other for the train, but got no sight of either. The track was mostly bare as far as I could see, but I knew that even if the chinook had reached so far east many cuts around where Lone Tree had been and west even as far as the last siding, No. 15, would still be half full of snow and ice which would need a vast deal of shoveling and quarrying before any train could come through.

It was growing colder, and after the sun went down it began to freeze. I thought I could easily sit up till midnight, and after it was dark began patrolling the sidewalk like a policeman. The Indian had gone to sleep in his cellar. There was an east wind which felt as if it might bring snow. I was getting so tired that I could scarce drag my feet and was having another fit of the shivers thinking about the outlaws, when suddenly, as I stood in front of Taggart's, something popped into my head which I had not thought of for almost three months. This was the big can of powder inside the store.

I forgot my shivers and ran to the hotel for the lantern. Then I had another look at the powder-can. It was like any tin can, only big, almost, as a keg. There was an opening in the top with a cover which screwed on. I was wondering if there was not some way that I could put the can under the floor of the bank and blow up the robbers if they tried to open the safe. I felt that the chances for beating them off again in a fight, with no fortifications, were very slim. You may think it strange that I felt so sure the robbers would come again, after having been beaten off once. I was not certain of it, of course, but I knew Pike was not a man to give up easily, and that he must have fully understood how much the snow helped to defeat them. I knew that since the weather had moderated a spy might have come in the night and discovered that I was alone and how defenseless the town was.

I had heard of fuse, but it happened that I had never seen any in my life. I remember I thought it must be white and soft like the string of a firecracker. So I began to rummage through all the drawers and boxes for fuse. One of the first things I came across was a coil of black, stiff, tarry string, but I threw it to one side and went on looking for fuse. After I had hunted half an hour and found none, I gave up. As I stood there thinking, a good deal discouraged, my eye lighted on the black coil again. My curiosity made me pick it up, and on looking at one end closely I thought I could see powder. I cut off about six inches of it and touched one end to the lantern flame. There was a little fizz of fire and I stood holding it in my hand and wondering what it was doing inside, when suddenly there was a bigger fizz at the other end and a streak of fire shot down inside my sleeve to my elbow. I concluded that I had found some fuse.

In five minutes I had the powder and fuse in the bank. Then the hopelessness of putting it under the floor dawned upon me. I looked under the building and found a solid square of stones laid up beneath where the safe stood to keep the floor from settling. Everywhere else the water was six inches deep. I went back into the bank. Eight or ten feet in front of the safe was a high counter running straight across the room. Under it was a waste-basket, a wooden box of old newspapers, a spool-cabinet for legal papers, a copying-press, and some other stuff.

I stood the can of powder in the waste-basket. It was a good fit, with room enough around the outside to stuff in some paper to hide it. Then I put the basket in the box of newspapers. I cut the fuse in two in the middle, unscrewed the cover and put the ends of the two pieces down in the powder, balancing the copying-press on top to hold them in place. I covered the whole thing up with newspapers. Then I brought an auger from Taggart's and bored a hole a little above the floor through the side of the building, and right on through the side of the building to the south, which stood so close that it almost touched the bank. There was nothing to either except a one-inch board and a thickness of lath and plastering. I passed the two lines of fuse through the two holes, and into the other building, which was a drug store. In the other building I tied a loose knot in the ends of the fuse and left it lying on the floor behind the counter and covered with a door-mat.

Ten minutes later I had my Indian ally posted on the platform of the depot with his gun.

"If pony thieves come, shoot at them," I said to him. "I'll get up and shoot at them too."

"All right, me shoot," he said; "take plenty scalp."

I went back to the drug store feeling better. There were now two chances for defeating the outlaws if they came; to beat them off, or blow them up with the powder. I lay down on the floor back of the counter with my head on the door-mat. The windows were boarded up, and I felt sure that even if they came they would never find me here.

I woke up three hours later, as I had that first night six months before in the Headquarters House, with Pike hold of my ear, and a man pushing a smoky lantern in my face.



CHAPTER XX

What the Outlaws do on their second Visit: with the awful Hours I pass through, and how I find myself at the End.

The first thing I heard was a loud laugh, and then:

"How are you, Jud?" said Pike. "Back again, you see. Hope yer feeling all right."

I saw I might as well make the best of it, though you may be sure I was half scared to death.

"Yes, I'm feeling pretty well," I said. "I was able to be about the last time you were here, maybe you remember."

Pike scowled at me. "Yes, that's so, you was," he said. "You stood us off in pretty good shape that time—you and the snow. We were fools not to find out that you were all alone. But we app'inted an investigating committee this time, and we're onto your game. Just excuse me, but I'll have to ask you to wear a little of Taggart's jewelry while we tend to some important business."

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and slipped one of them around my wrist and shut it up so tight that it pressed into the flesh. Then he led me in front of the counter, slipped the other cuff through a brace under the front edge of the counter, and then clasped it around my other wrist, leaving the short chain which connected the cuffs behind the brace, so that I was a prisoner. He pushed up a chair and said:

"Set down and make yourself comfortable, Jud. I'll see if I can't find a handful of buttons for you, and you can put 'em on the counter and play checkers with your nose."

The men laughed at this, and Pike went on:

"We met your pardner out here, the dark-complected feller. He was a-riding off our pinto that we left here by mistake last winter, with our saddle and things, and a-leading your two broncs, so we just stopped him and gathered 'em in, and I reckon they're all our'n now, most of 'em, anyhow. And in consideration of our only shooting him around the edges careful like, he give us some valuable information, such as just where you was a-sleeping, Jud, and where we'd find the blacksmith tools, and so forth. That's the way to get along with an Injun and have everything all easy-going—shoot 'im, very careful, around the edges."

Again they all laughed, and then went out the back door, which, I noticed, had a small hole cut in it over the bolt big enough to let in a man's hand. There were five of them, counting Pike. The windows were boarded up and it was dark in the store, but as the door opened I saw that it was quite light outside and that it was snowing.



As I sat there in the dark unable to move and with the handcuffs cutting into my wrists you may believe I was miserable enough. I expected nothing short of being killed by the gang before they left. I saw what a fool I had been to trust the scoundrelly Indian even as much as I had. It was a little satisfaction, however, to know that he had failed to get off with his stolen property even if it had fallen into the hands of a worse set of thieves. I soon heard them at work on the safe in the bank. Of course I thought of my fuse, but it was a dozen feet away, the other side of the counter, and I could see not a shadow of hope of getting at it.

I think I sat there as much as two hours, listening to the noise in the next building, when Pike came in and said:

"You'll be glad to hear, Jud, that we're getting along beautiful on that safe. We're a-going to blow the stuffing out of it the next thing you know. Reckon if you ain't particular we'll just borrow a sleigh we see out here and a set of Sours's harness for a couple of our horses when we go away, 'cause we think the specie may be a little heavy. Besides, we're calculating there may be some other stuff around town worth taking off—Winchesters and such agricultural and stock-raising implements," and he laughed. He seemed to be in very good humor.

He went back, and for another long while I heard nothing but steady drilling on the safe and a little of their talk, though I could not catch much of that. Sometimes, too, I could hear Kaiser barking. He was locked in the hotel, and I thought he knew I was in trouble and wanted to get out and help me.

After what seemed hours Pike came in again.

"We blow 'er open now very shortly," he said. "A reg'ler little Fourth o' July celebration of our own, hey, Jud?" Then he laughed and went on: "We need that money and you bet it's going to come handy." He looked at me, came closer with the lantern, and said:

"Jud, what d'ye say to coming in with us and having your share like a man? You're a good one, if you are young, and we can find plenty of work for you, and always you get your share."

"No," I said, "I don't care to."

He looked at me sharply a moment and then went on:

"Just as you please, of course. But me and the boys was talking it over and we calculated it was the best way to dispose of you, a pile the best for you and some better for us."

I had kept looking straight into his eyes, under his big eyebrows. "No," I said, "I won't do it."

"Oh, take your choice," he answered, "take your choice. Just as you think best, of course. Only you know the old saying about how dead men don't tell any tales. And if you come in with us you get your share, just the same as if you'd done your part of the work."

I said nothing. He waited a minute, then went out and shut the door. I sprang up and pulled and wrenched at the brace with all my strength. The handcuffs cut into my wrists, but I did not feel it. The brace stayed as firm as ever. I sat down weak and trembling with my last hope gone. A minute later there was a loud explosion in the bank, which shook the building I was in. Next came a cheer from the men. Then voices, and I heard Pike shout:

"It's all afire here—bring a pail of water, Joe!"

The well windlass creaked and I heard a man start in from the back. Next I heard Pike say, "We'll soon fix that fire," then came an explosion and a crash, like an earthquake, and the wall came down upon me, and the counter came over and I was half under it. I heard the cries of the men, and, wriggling about, I got out from under the counter and found my hands free from the brace, and the snowflakes coming in my face through where half the side of the building had been blown away.



CHAPTER XXI

After the Explosion: some cheerful Talk with the Thieves, and a strange but welcome Message out of the Storm.

As I struggled to my feet out of the wreck I was so dazed that I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. I felt something running down my face and at first wondered what it was; then I saw it was blood. One of my arms felt numb and I was afraid it was broken; and my hands were all torn and bruised. I could not see into the other building for the smoke and falling snow, but I could hear the groans and curses of the men. I thought that if any of them were able they might come to take revenge on me, and that I best go away, especially as I was helpless with the handcuffs still on my wrists. I managed to pull open the front door and ran to Taggart's, thinking that I might get the handcuffs off in some way.

I found the box from which Pike had got them. There were two other pairs, with keys. I took the keys in my teeth and tried, but neither would fit mine. Then I went to the tin shop up-stairs. There was a file on the bench and I managed to get this into the vise and began rubbing the chain up and down on the edge of it. It was the hardest work I ever did, but I soon saw that I could get my hands free in time if I kept on. Once or twice I heard Pike shouting something and I could still hear Kaiser barking in the hotel.

I don't know how long it took, but at last I got my hands separated, though of course the clasps were still tightly around my wrists. I looked out of the window and saw that the sleigh was in front of the bank with a pair of the outlaws' horses hitched to it. I was afraid that the safe had been blown open with the first explosion and that they were getting the money after all. I ran out the back door and along behind the buildings to the hotel. Kaiser bounded around me, and Pawsy was again in her old place over the door.

I peeped through the cracks in the boards over one of the front windows. The whole front of the bank was blown away, but I could just make out through the snow that the inner door of the safe was still closed. Two of the men were lying in the bottom of the sleigh, motionless, whether dead or alive I knew not. Pike was on the floor of the bank, propped up on one elbow, giving orders to the one they called Joe, who was helping the fifth man into the sleigh, who seemed badly wounded and sat in the bottom of the box.

Then Joe went back to help Pike. He took him by the arms and was dragging him toward the sleigh, when I suddenly made up my mind that I would keep Pike. I went to the closet and got Sours's double-barreled shot-gun. I knew there was no weapon that they would fear so much at close range. I opened the door and walked out into the street with it.

"Just leave Pike right here," I said. "I'll take care of him. The rest of you go on."

I guess they thought I was buried under the rubbish in the drug store, because I have seldom seen men more astonished. I walked up closer. Even Joe looked half wrecked, and his face was all blackened with powder.

"Hello, Jud," called Pike. "You ain't a-going to strike a man when he's down, be you, Jud? I might 'a' been harder on you many a time than I was, Jud."

"No, I won't hurt you, but you've got to stay, that's all," I said. "Help him over to the hotel and then go on with the others and don't come back," I added, looking at Joe.

There was nothing for him but to do as he was told, because I held the gun on them both, and they had heard the click as I drew back the hammers. Pike's left leg seemed to be broken and he was all burned and blackened with the powder. I sent Joe for a mattress, which he put on the floor of the office and rolled Pike on it. Then he drove off with the others.

So that is the whole account of the second visit of the outlaws to Track's End, just as it all happened, Saturday, March 19th.

"Now, Pike," I said, after Joe had gone, "the first thing—out with that handcuff key!"

He took it from his pocket and gave it to me. I unlocked each of my bracelets. They left deep red marks around my wrists. Pike asked for a drink of water and I got it for him. I could see that he was in pain.

"You've played it on us again, Jud, I'll be hanged if you ain't," he said to me. "What'd you have under that counter, Jud?"

"A can of blasting-powder," I answered.

"Dangerous place to store it when there's explosions, and kerosene lamps and hot stoves, and fires, and such truck around. It done us fellers up, and that's a fact."

"Well, I wasn't trying to make you feel at home," I replied. "How did you happen to be blowing open other folks's safes?"

"Oh, it's all right, Jud, it's all right," he said. "I ain't finding no fault. Only I think you'd 'a' done better to join us and get your share."

Though I still felt pretty dizzy and weak I started out to look about town. I found that the inside door of the bank safe was still tight shut, though the outer one was blown off. The building was wrecked and the drug store was not in much better shape. I could see that the bank had been afire, but that Joe had put it out with water from the well.

Outside the barn I found Dick and Ned and the pony the Indian had taken, with three of the gang's horses which had been left behind, huddled together trying to keep out of the snow, which was still coming down at a great rate and was being swirled about by the wind. I let them in, and they were all very glad to get some feed, as were likewise the cow and chickens. I found that the Indian had pried open the back door with a crowbar from among the blacksmith's tools.

Night was already coming on and I was so tired and sleepy that I could scarce keep up. So I made Pike as comfortable as I could, and went to bed and slept like a log.

The first thing I knew in the morning was that the storm had turned into a raging blizzard. It was not yet very cold, but the snow was drifting as fast as it had any time during the winter. I found Pike more comfortable. I had hoped for the train, but the storm discouraged me. I began to wonder what I was going to do with him. That his leg was broken was certain, and I almost wished that I had let him go with the others.

It was Sunday, and the first thing I did after breakfast was to write my regular letter to my mother, telling her all that had happened the past week; and it was a good deal. Then I started out to take another look around town. My sleep had done me a world of good, though I still felt stiff and lame.

It was impossible to do much in the storm, but I covered up the bank safe with some blankets, and nailed boards over some windows in other buildings which had been broken by the explosion. I finally turned up at the depot and went in to see about the fire.

As I opened the door I was astonished to hear the telegraph instrument clicking. I knew the line was down and could not make out what it meant. I understood no more about telegraphing than Kaiser, but in visiting Tom Carr during the fall I had learned to know the call for Track's End, which always sounded to me like clicket-ty-click-click, clicket-ty, over and over again till Tom opened the switch and answered. Well, as I stood listening I heard this call for Track's End, clicket-ty-click-click, clicket-ty. Then I saw that the line must have been repaired; but if this were so a train must have come nearly through; otherwise the repairmen could not have reached the break, which, I remembered, Tom said was just beyond Siding No. 15, fourteen miles east of Track's End.

I went to the table and sat down and listened to the steady clicking, the same thing, nothing but the call. It gave me a good feeling even if I didn't know where it came from. I could not understand why any other office should be calling Track's End, as they must all know the station was closed for the winter. Then it came to me that a train must be on the way, and somebody thought it had got here.

Just to see if I could, I reached over, opened the switch and tried giving the Track's End call myself. Of course I did it very slowly, with a long pause between each click; but I thought I would show the fellow at the other end that Track's End wasn't quite dead after all. Then I closed the switch, and instantly was surprised to hear the call repeated, but just as slowly and in the same way that I had given it. It came this way two or three times, then I gave it as best I could, then it came the same way once more.

After this there was a long pause, and then it began to click something else, very slowly, dot, dash, dash, dot, and so forth, with a long stop between each. I picked up a pencil and marked it down, slowly, just as it came. Every two or three clicks there was a very long pause, and I would put down a monstrous big mark, thinking it might be the end of a letter; and when it stopped this is what I had, just as I wrote it down (I have the paper to this day), though it might as well have been Greek for all I knew of its meaning:

[Transcriber's Note: an image of a series of handwritten dots, dashes, vertical marks, and other marks appears here in the text.]

After a minute or two it began again, but I soon saw that I was getting the same thing. I leaned back in the chair and wished that I could read it. Then I sat up with sudden new interest, wondering if I could not find a copy of the Morse code somewhere and translate the message. It didn't seem likely that Tom would have one, as he was an old operator; but I began rummaging among his books and papers just the same. I had not gone far when I turned up an envelope directed to him on which was some printing saying that it contained a pamphlet about books for telegraphers. I opened it, and on the first page, as a sort of trade-mark, was what I wanted. In ten minutes I had my message translated. It read: "Starving. Siding fifteen. Carr."



CHAPTER XXII

The last Chapter, but a good Deal in it: a free Lodging for the Night, with a little Speech by Mr. Clerkinwell: then, how Kaiser and I take a long Journey, and how we never go that Way again.

When I knew what the message said I saw that a train must have got to No. 15, and I jumped up and started for the door; then I ran back again and slowly spelled out O. K. on the instrument, and without waiting to see what came in reply hurried over to the hotel as fast as I could go.

It was now eleven o'clock, and though the storm was as furious as ever I was determined to set out and try to reach the siding. If it had been before the thaw, with all of the winter snow on the ground, I never should have thought of doing it, but most of the old drifts were either gone or frozen so hard that they could be walked over without the least fear of breaking down; and as for the new drifts they were soft and not yet deep. I first thought of taking the horses and large sleigh and of keeping on the railroad track, but I remembered that there were a good many culverts and little bridges which I could not cross that way, and I knew to leave the track would mean to be lost instantly. So I saw that the best I could do was to take Kaiser and the small sled.

I soon had this loaded with all the provisions that I thought we could get through with, though the selection was poor enough. But I got a lot of coffee from the store, with bacon and canned Boston baked beans and other such things. There was a little of the buffalo meat left, and as I had kept it buried in the snow during the thaw it was still as good as ever. This, with what eggs and other things in the hotel which I had, I put on, covered it all snugly with a blanket, tied the load firmly and was ready. I told Pike where I was going, though the next moment I saw from the look on his face that I should not have done so. Still, I could not see what harm he could do with his bruises and broken leg. I left food and water where he could reach them, and started out, walking beside Kaiser and helping him drag the load.

It was just noon when I got off. We went to the station and started down the track. It was impossible to see more than a few rods, but the wind, which all along had been in the northeast, had now shifted to the northwest, so it was partly in my back. It was both snowing and blowing, and we waded through the damp, heavy, new snow, and slipped and stumbled over the old drifts. I soon saw that there was a big job before us; and I had not expected any pleasure excursion.

The first accident was when I fell through between the ties over a culvert up to my chin. It was too high to get back that way, so I went on down and floundered out at the end and so fought my way back up. We soon got used to these, and generally I told where they were by the lay of the land, and either we went round them or walked carefully over on the ties. But before I had gone three miles I saw that my only hope of reaching the siding that night was in the wind going down; but it was all the time coming up.

But we plodded on, in some places making pretty good time; but on the other hand we often had to stop to rest. Kaiser seemed not the least discouraged, and when we stopped even tried to wag his tail, but it was too bushy a tail to wag well in such a wind. After a while the blizzard became so blinding and the track so deep with snow that we had to leave it and follow the telegraph poles on the edge of the right of way, stopping and clinging to one pole till a little swirl in the snow gave me a glimpse of the next one; then we would plunge ahead for it, and by not once stopping or thinking I would usually bump up against it all right; though when I had gone fifty steps if I did not find it I would stop and stand still till a little lull made it so I could see the pole, and then sometimes I would find that I had passed it a few feet to one side.

At last (but too soon) I thought I noticed that the light was beginning to fail; and it was certainly all the time growing colder. A little farther on we came to a deep cut through a coteau. The cut was so filled with new snow that we could not wade through, and the side of the hill was covered with the old snow and so slippery that we could not scramble over. The only thing to do was to go around it. This I thought we could do and not get lost by keeping close to its foot all the way around.

We started and plowed on till I thought it time to see the telegraph poles again. We went on, but I saw the hill was not leading us right, and turned a little the other way. Another coteau was in our path and I turned to avoid it. For another five minutes we went on. I turned where I was sure the railroad must be, when suddenly it seemed as if the wind had changed and was coming out of the south. I knew it undoubtedly had not, but by this sign I understood that I was lost. I felt dazed and bewildered and was not sure if I were north or south of the track. But for another fifteen minutes we struggled on. I had lost all sense of direction. I stopped and tried to think. Every minute it was growing colder; how long I stood there I don't know, but I remember that I heard Kaiser whine, and started at it, and realized that I was growing sleepy. I knew what the sleepiness which comes on at such times means, and I turned around square to the wind and started on.

A dozen steps away we came face to face with a big new snow-drift, its top blown over like a great white hood. I guessed that there was an old bank under this one. I took a stake from the sled, dropped on my hands and knees and began to poke about for it. I soon found it, broke through the frozen crust with the stake and began pawing out a burrow with my hands. I dug like a scared badger and in a few minutes had a place big enough. I wriggled out, pushed Kaiser in, took the blanket from the sled, backed into my snow cave again and rolled up as best I could in the blanket. In five minutes the mouth of the burrow was drifted over and we were in total darkness.

I was not afraid to sleep now, as I knew, what with the snow, my big coat, and the blanket, not to mention Kaiser, I would be safe enough from freezing; so that is what I did till morning, scarce waking once. When I did wake, though I knew no more than anything if it were morning, I could no longer hear the wind roaring, so I burrowed out; which was no small job, either, since I had to dig through a wall of snow, packed solid as a cheese.

But when Kaiser and I burst out, like whales, I guess, coming up to breathe, we found it clear and calm, with the sun just peeping up above a coteau and the frost dancing in the air. And we were not five rods from the railroad, though in that blizzard we could no more see it than we could Jericho. It took half an hour to dig out the sled and get started, with Kaiser barking, and his breath like a puff of a locomotive at every bark, it was so cold. I put on the skees now (which I had had tied on the sled) and off we went over the drifts, now packed hard, at a good rate.

It was no more than ten o'clock when I saw a white cloud of smoke far ahead and knew we were coming to the siding; and Kaiser saw it too, I think, and we both started to run and couldn't help it. And half a mile farther we saw a man coming slowly; and who was it but dear old Tom Carr!

I think I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. The poor fellow was so weak that he could hardly stand, but he was making a start for Track's End.

"Jud," he said, "we started out Wednesday, with a dozen passengers, as many shovelers, and three days' food. We got to No. 15 Saturday. Then the storm came and the food was about all gone. Yesterday the storm kept up and the men could have done nothing even if they had had food. This morning they are at it, but they are so weak that they can't do much, but with what you've got on your sled we'll get through."

He went back with me, and there were Burrdock and Sours and Allenham and some others, all shoveling at the cut with the men; and in the car was Mr. Clerkinwell, now recovered from his sickness, but weak from the lack of food. I won't try to tell how glad they were to see me; but I was gladder to see them. I felt that I was out of the prison of Track's End at last; and so many times I had thought I never should get out alive!

"And why didn't you die a thousand times from loneliness," cried Mr. Clerkinwell, after he had talked a few minutes, "if from no other cause?"

"Oh," I answered, "I had some company, you know; then there were callers, too, once in a while." Then I said to him that "I wrote every Sunday to my mother," at the which he patted me on the head, just as if I weren't taller than he!

The men all came in and we got up a sort of a meal; at least there was plenty of coffee, bacon, and beans. Then they went at the shoveling again, the engineer got up steam, and soon we left the short platform and little cube of a house at the siding behind. There was a snow-plow on the engine, and the men now worked with so much energy that we bucked along through the cuts, and before sundown were at Track's End. So, on Monday, March 21st, the train which had gone away on Friday, December 17th, was back again, with a long whistle and a cheer from every man, and barks from Kaiser which lasted longer than all.

I had told part of my story, and we all went over to the Headquarters House, Allenham to arrest Pike. He was gone. The barn had been broken open that morning and one of his ponies taken out. How he ever did it with his broken leg was more than any of us could tell, but he had done it, and it seemed no use to try to follow him. I saw my mistake in telling him so much; but it was too late to remedy it.

The next day another train came, bringing a whole crowd of Track's-Enders; and that night they held a little meeting at the hotel and were for giving me a reward for what I had done (which was no more than I had been left to do); but I told them, No, that Mr. Sours had paid me my wages according to agreement and that I couldn't take any reward; but when Mr. Clerkinwell got up and took off his watch and chain (gold they were, you may be sure) and said I must take that whether or no, so that when I "looked for the time o' day I would always remember that a townful of people, and especially a certain old gentleman, thanked me and did not forget what I had done"—when Mr. Clerkinwell did this, I say, and I guess there were tears in his eyes, what could I do but take it? and take it I did, and wear it to this day.



Mr. Clerkinwell told me afterward that there was a full $20,000 in the safe.

So that is all there is to tell of my strange winter at Track's End, so many years ago. Three days later the regular trains began to run, and the first one took all of my letters to my mother; and no more than two days after she got them I was there myself, bringing only one important thing more than I had taken away (besides experience), and that was Kaiser. I had asked for him and got him; first I had thought to take away Pawsy, too, but concluded to leave her with Mrs. Sours, where she could get on the door in case of trouble. And since, though I have done my share of wandering about the world (and perhaps a little more than my share), I have never again visited Track's End; nor do I think I want to go back where the wolves howled so many dismal nights, and where the other things were worse than the wolves.

THE END