By this time the chief engineer of the S. & W. had got his big frame to the ground. He bore unmistakable evidences of long and hard riding. Even in that dim light they could see that his face was seamed with the marks of exhaustion. “Haven’t got a wee bit drappie, have you?” he asked. “I certainly have,” Young Van replied. “Come right in.” Tiffany tossed his hat on the table, reached out for the flask and tumbler, and tossed down a drink which would have done credit to the hardiest Highlander of them all. “Now show me the stable,” he said. “Want to fix my horse for the night. I’ve half killed him.” A quarter of an hour later the three men were back in the headquarters tent. “How did you get through, Mr. Tiffany?” asked Young Van. “Came out on the first train to Barker Hills. Bourke’s holding the station there. He had a couple of our engines, and was working east, but we stopped that. Peet’s there now with Sheriff McGraw and a bundle of warrants and a hundred and fifty men--more, I guess, by this time. Just another thimbleful o’ that-- Thanks! We’ve got Bourke blocked at Barker Hills, all right. Before the week’s out we’ll have the track opened proper for you. Mr. De Reamer’s taken hold himself, you know. He’s at Sherman, with some big lawyers--and maybe he ain’t mad all through!” “Then Commodore Durfee hasn’t got the board of directors?” “Not by a good deal! I doubt if even General Carrington’s votes would swing it for him now. But then, I don’t know such a heap about that part of it. I was telling you--I’ll take a nip o’ that. Thanks!--I was telling you. We come along the Middle Division, running slow,--we were afraid of obstructions on the track,--” “Did you find any?” “Did we find any?--Well I guess.” He held out a pair of big hands, palms up. “I got those splinters handling cross-ties in the dark. And about the middle of the Barker Hills division--at the foot of Crump’s Hill,--we found some rails missing. “Well, sir, I left ’em there to fix it up--we had a repair car in the train--and got my horse off and rode around south of the station. Had some sandwiches in my pocket, but didn’t get a drop of water till I struck your first well, last night. You ain’t using that now?” “No, we’ve moved up to two and three--this way.” “There was a blamed fool tried to stop me, a mile south of Barker Hills Station--yelled at me; and fired when I didn’t answer.”-- Tiffany paused with this, and looked grimly from one to the other of the young men. Then he drew a big revolver from his belt, opened it, and exhibited the cylinder. One chamber was empty. They were silent for a time. “You’ll find Mr. Carhart’s cot all ready for you, Mr. Tiffany,” said Young Van, at length.