At the railroad head-quarters Stanley, before daylight, was directing the resumption of operations so interrupted by the three days of anarchism on the mountain division. New men were added every hour to the pay-roll, and the smaller tradesmen of the town, ruined by the riots, were given positions to keep them until the town could be rebuilt. The pressure on the operating department increased twofold with the resumption of traffic. Winter was now upon the mountains, but construction could not be stopped for winter. The enormous prizes for extending the line through the Rockies to meet the rival railroad heading east from California, spurred the builders to every effort to lengthen their mileage, and something unheard of was attempted, namely, mountain railroad-building in midwinter. Levake, the leader among the mountain outlaws, was nursed back to life by the surgeon he had so nearly murdered. But his respite was a brief one. When new officers of the law were elected in Medicine Bend, the murderer was tried for one of his many crimes and paid on the scaffold the penalty of his cold-blooded cruelty. Rebstock, the fox, and his companion Seagrue escaped the exterminating raid of the vigilantes but fought shy of Medicine Bend for long afterward. A few days after the riots Stanley sent for Bucks, who was holding a key among the operators downstairs, to come to his office. "How long have you been a telegraph operator, Bucks?" he asked. Bucks laughed in some embarrassment. "Since I was about twelve years old, sir." "Twelve years old!" echoed Stanley in amazement. "Where did you learn to telegraph at twelve?" Bucks hesitated again. "I never learned, sir!" "What do you mean?" "I used to sit in the telegraph office of the road when my uncle was superintendent, and I got used to hearing the sound of the instruments. I just woke up one morning and found I could telegraph. I couldn't the night before. That's the only way I ever learned, sir." Stanley regarded the boy with interest. "How old are you now?" "Seventeen." "Very well. When you went to bed last night you were not a train despatcher: this morning you are." Bucks started. "If any one ever asks you," continued Stanley dryly, "how you learned to be a train despatcher, tell them just that." "I don't want you to think you are old enough to be a despatcher," continued Stanley, as Bucks stammered his thanks, "for you are not. And I don't want you to think I like to make you one. I don't. Neither for your sake nor mine. I don't like to impose the responsibilities of a man on a boy. But I can't help it. We haven't the men, and we can't get them--and we must all, men and boys, pull together and just do the best we can--do you understand?" "I understand everything, Colonel Stanley."