It grew dreadfully monotonous by nine o'clock, however. Grizzly grumbled while getting a heap of work out of the way, Mason went to sleep and snored in his chair by the stove. A sudden diversion, however, aroused him. There was the sound of the lower outside door slamming shut. Ralph could look down at the stairway. Someone had appeared ascending it. Grizzly heard the footsteps, warning him of an intruder, and rushed at Mason shaking him vigorously with the sharp mandate: "Bolt!" A minute later, peering within the operating room, Ralph saw the intruder enter. Mason had got to cover and Grizzly back to his instrument. The intruder suggested some half tipsy ranchman, who staggered into the room shaking the snow from his garments. "Hi, there, young man," he hailed familiarly to Grizzly. "I want to send a message to Wayne." "Sorry, but it's too late." "Too late for what?" growled the intruder, looking skeptical and ugly. "All the instruments cut out that way and we won't have Wayne till six o'clock in the morning." "Won't, eh? Well, you've got to, that's all," observed the man, coming nearer to the operating table. "Come around in the morning and some of the day force will send the message for you." "No. I've got twenty-six cars of cattle out here that are going there tomorrow, and I want to notify my agents." Grizzly shook his head and turned to his table. The stranger bolted up against him with a savage face. "Say," he said, "you send this message or there is going to be trouble." "Not much, I won't send your confounded old message; get out of this office." There was a swift movement on the part of the ranchman, then an ominous click, and Grizzly was looking down the barrel of a revolver. "Give me your blamed old message and I'll send it for you," growled the scared operator, though there was not a wire anywhere near Wayne at the time, but Grizzly had a scheme to stave the fellow off. He took the paper from the man, went over to the switchboard, fumbled at a local instrument, and, as Ralph discerned, went through the form of sending a message. The stranger watched him furtively, pistol in hand, swaying to and fro like a reed in the wind and grinning like a monkey. "There, I hope you're satisfied now," muttered Grizzly. "Of course I am," chuckled the ranchman; "only I rushed a dodge on you, for the pistol isn't loaded. You bit like a fish." It was the turn of Grizzly to chuckle, however. As the fellow disappeared Mason came into sight again, and the twain chuckled over the deluded ranchman whose message would not go over the wires for many hours to come.