everything or nothing to Paul Carhart. Once Byers, not observing his abstraction, spoke, “That was hard luck, Mr. Carhart, getting cut off from Sherman this way.” “Think so?” the chief replied, and fell back into his study. Byers looked puzzled, but he offered nothing further. Carhart was for a moment diverted along the line suggested by him of the long nose. “Hard luck, eh?” he was thinking. “It’s the first time in my life I was ever let alone. I only hope they won’t clean Bourke out and repair the wires before I get through.” * * * * * The white spot on Bourke’s long blueprint of the High, Dry, and Wobbly, to which was attached the name of “Durfee,” might have seemed, to the unknowing, a town or settlement. It was not. It was a station in the form of an unpainted shed, a few huts, and a water tank. Besides these, there were heaps of rails and ties and bridge timbers and all the many materials used in building a railroad. “The end of the track,” or rather “Mr. Bourke’s camp,” which marked the beginning of the end, lay some dozen miles farther west. Out there, men swarmed by the hundred, for work had by no means been discontinued on the H. D. & W. But here at “Durfee” there were only an operator, a train crew or so, a few section men, and a night watchman. And on that late evening when a train of wagons rolled along on well-greased wheels beside the track and stopped at the long piles of firewood which were stored there within easy reach of passing locomotives, all these worthy persons were asleep. What few words passed among the invaders were low and guarded. Everything seemed to be understood. Of the two men on each wagon, one dropped his reins and stood up in the wagon-box, the other leaped to the ground and rapidly passed up armfuls of wood. Of the horsemen, three out of every four dismounted and ran off in a wide circle and took shelter in shadowed spots behind lumber piles, or dropped silently to the ground and lay there watching. Out on the track a deep-chested, hard-faced man, who might perhaps have answered to the name of “Dimond,” took up a post of observation. On that side of the circle nearest the station and the huts, two men who had the manner of some authority moved cautiously about. Both wore spectacles and one had a long nose. Through the still air came the champing of bits and the pawing and snorting of horses. The man with the spectacles and the less striking nose seemed to dislike these noises. He drew out a watch now and then, and held it up in the moonlight. The work was going on rapidly, yet how slowly! Once somebody dropped an armful of wood, and every man started at the sound.