It was the record trip for eight miles in a wagon in that country. The driver stood up, a foot braced on either side, the reins thrown loose, the whip plied hard, and every urging that voice could give shrieked out by his powerful lungs. It was like the rush of a fire-engine, plus twice the speed, and twenty times the danger. Above the pounding of hoofs, the din of rattling metal, the crash, smash and roar of the wheels and the yells of the driver could be heard the man Pete, ex-cowpuncher, cheerfully singing, "Roll your tails, and roll 'em high, We'll all be angels by-and-by." Braced in the back corner sat Captain Hanrahan, his leg keeping some of the tools from going overboard, holding Ches in his arms. "Curse it all, Billy!" he screamed to the driver, "miss _some_ of them bumps, will you? I've got on a new pair of pants." "I'll take 'em clean off you the next time, Cap!" retorted the driver. They joked, which may seem heartless; but they risked their necks a hundred times, and that isn't very heartless. "That's the place, I reckon, Cap!" said the driver, pointing. "Somebody working there now!" "Give 'em a hoot!" replied the captain. Bud stepped out and held up his hand in answer to the yell. The wave of thanksgiving at the sight of this most efficient help took all the stiffness out of the knees of the mail-rider. The tears rolled down his face unnoticed. "You're welcome, boys," he cried, as the driver sawed the frenzied team to a standstill and the men sprang out. "Reckon we are," said the captain. "Now what's up?" "Is the boy hurt? Good God! He ain't hurt himself, has he?" "Naw; pore little cuss is used up, that's all. He'll be around all right in a minute. Now tell me, what's loose." Bud answered briefly, but completely. "Pete and Billy, get to cutting wood--the rest of you come here," commanded the captain. "You ain't going to stop to timber, are you?" asked Bud in an agony of haste. "I sure am," replied the captain. "All this trouble's come of carelessness. Now you just keep your clothes on, and let me run this thing. "We'll have your friend out in no time, and there won't be no more men stuck in there with a hill a-top of 'em in the doing of it. What you've done there is a help all right, but it might easy have meant that we'd had two men instead of one to hunt for." "You're dead right," said Bud. "Tell me what I'm to do." The captain took hold as only a man can who has the genius for it. He knew by long practice what size of a relief tunnel meant real speed of progress--the least dirt to be removed to make it possible that men could work to advantage. And his tunnel, safely rough-ceiled, went in at the rate of a foot a minute.