And that spot was haunted.

29

Casey left Benton on the work-train. It was composed of a long string of box--and flat-cars loaded with stone, iron, gravel, ties--all necessaries for the up-keep of the road. The engine was at the rear end, pushing instead of pulling; and at the extreme front end there was a flat-car loaded with gravel. A number of laborers rode on this car, among whom was Casey. In labor or fighting this Irishman always gravitated to the fore.

All along the track, from outside of Benton to the top of a long, slow rise of desert were indications of the fact that Indians had torn up the track or attempted to derail trains.

The signs of Sioux had become such an every-day matter in the lives of the laborers that they were indifferent and careless. Thus isolated, unprotected groups of men, out some distance from the work-train, often were swooped down upon by Indians and ma.s.sacred.

The troopers had gone on with the other trains that carried Benton's inhabitants and habitations.

Casey and his comrades had slow work of it going westward, as it was necessary to repair the track and at the same time to keep vigilant watch for the Sioux. They expected the regular train from the east to overtake them, but did not even see its smoke. There must have been a wreck or telegraph messages to hold it back at Medicine Bow.

Toward sunset the work-train reached the height of desert land that sloped in long sweeping lines down to the base of the hills.

At this juncture a temporary station had been left in the shape of several box-cars where the telegraph operators and a squad of troopers lived.

As the work-train lumbered along to the crest of this heave of barren land Casey observed that some one at the station was excitedly waving a flag. Thereupon Casey, who acted as brakeman, signaled the engineer.

"Dom' coorious that," remarked Casey to his comrade McDermott. "Thim operators knowed we'd stop, anyway."

That was the opinion of the several other laborers on the front car. And when the work-train halted, that car had run beyond the station a few rods. Casey and his comrades jumped off.

A little group of men awaited them. The operator, a young fellow named Collins, was known to Casey. He stood among the troopers, pale-faced and shaking.

"Casey, who's in charge of the train?" he asked, nervously.

The Irishman's grin enlarged, making it necessary for him to grasp his pipe.

"Shure the engineer's boss of the train an' I'm boss of the gang."

More of the work-train men gathered round the group, and the engineer with his fireman approached.

"You've got to hold up here," said Collins.

Casey removed his pipe to refill it. "Ah-huh!" he grunted.

"Wire from Medicine Bow--order to stop General Lodge's train--three hundred Sioux in ambush near this station--Lodge's train between here and Roaring City," breathlessly went on the operator.

"An' the message come from Medicine Bow!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Casey, while his men gaped and muttered.

"Yes. It must have been sent here last night. But O'Neil, the night operator, was dead. Murdered by Indians while we slept."

"Thot's h.e.l.l!" replied Casey, seriously, as he lit his pipe.

"The message went through to Medicine Bow. Stacey down there sent it back to me. I tried to get Hills at Roaring City. No go! The wire's cut!"

"An' shure the gineral's train has left--wot's that new camp--Roarin'

wot?"

"Roaring City.... General Lodge went through two days ago with a private train. He had soldiers, as usual. But no force to stand off three hundred Sioux, or even a hundred."

"Wal, the gineral must hev lift Roarin' City--else thot message niver would hev come."

"So I think.... Now what on earth can we do? The engineer of his train can't stop for orders short of this station, for the reason that there are no stations."

"An' thim Sooz is in ambush near here?" queried Casey, reflectively.

"Shure thot could only be in wan place. I rimimber thot higher, narrer pa.s.s."

"Right. It's steep up-grade coming east. Train can be blocked. General Lodge with his staff and party--and his soldiers--would be ma.s.sacred without a chance to fight. That pa.s.s always bothered us for fear of ambush. Now the Sioux have come west far enough to find it.... No chance on earth for a train there--not if it carried a thousand soldiers."

"Wal, if the gineral an' company was sthopped somewhere beyond thot pa.s.s?" queried Casey, shrewdly, as he took a deep pull at his pipe.

"Then at least they could fight. They have stood off attacks before.

They might hold out for the train following, or even run back."

"Thin, Collins, we've only got to sthop the gineral's train before it reaches thot dom' trap."

"But we can't!" cried Collins. "The wire is cut. It wouldn't help matters if it weren't. I thought when I saw your train we might risk sending the engine on alone. But your engine is behind all these loaded cars. No switch. Oh, it is d.a.m.nable!"

"Collins, there's more domnable things than yez ever heerd of.... I'll sthop Gineral Lodge!"

The brawny Irishman wheeled and strode back toward the front car of the train. All the crowd,--to a man, muttering and gaping, followed him.

Casey climbed up on the gravel-car.

"Casey, wot in h.e.l.l would yez be afther doin'?" demanded McDermott.

Casey grinned at his old comrade. "Mac, yez do me a favor. Uncouple the car."

McDermott stepped between the cars and the rattle and clank of iron told that he had complied with Casey's request. Collins, with all the men on the ground, grasped Casey's idea.

"By G.o.d! Casey can you do it? There's down-grade for twenty miles. Once start this gravel-car and she'll go clear to the hills. But--but--"

"Collins, it'll be aisy. I'll slip through thot pa.s.s loike oil. Thim Sooz won't be watchin' this way. There's a curve. They won't hear till too late. An' shure they don't niver obsthruct a track till the last minute."

"But, Casey, once through the pa.s.s you can't control that gravel-car.

The brakes won't hold. You'll run square into the general's train--wreck it!"

"Naw! I've got a couple of ties, an' if thot wreck threatens I'll heave a tie off on the track an' derail me private car."

"Casey, it's sure death!" exclaimed Collins. His voice and the pallor of his face and the beads of sweat all proclaimed him new to the U. P. R.

"Me boy, nothin's shure whin yez are drillin' with the Paddies."

Casey was above surprise and beyond disdain. He was a huge, toil-hardened, sun-reddened, hard-drinking soldier of the railroad, a loquacious Irishman whose fixed grin denied him any gravity, a foreman of his gang. His chief delight was to outdo his bosom comrade, McDermott. He did not realize that he represented an unconquerable and unquenchable spirit. Neither did his comrade know. But under Casey's grin shone something simple, radiant, hard as steel.