The wrecking train's speed rapidly closed the gap of miles separating us
from our reservation, and when at last--at about supper time--we entered
upon our own section, we noted a satisfied sparkle in Foreman McDonald's
eyes, when the cars, which had heretofore been lurching like ships at
sea, spun with hardly a perceivable motion over the well attended road
bed. Now the whistle blew for our section house; the brakes gripped the
flanges of the wheels, and we gathered our belongings so as not to
unnecessarily delay the others, and when the train stopped we soon had
our track tools piled in front of our tool house. Then the wrecking
train continued its journey, and while we stored our tools away we noted
the disappointed look in our foreman's face when neither his wife nor
any of his children came to greet him, or at least inquire as to the
extent of the wreck, a most interesting item of gossip, considering the
lonely location of our reservation.

When we had finished our task and the foreman had carefully locked the
tool house, and while he walked towards the "big" house where not yet a
single soul had opened the door to give him the usual glad greeting,
although by the lamp that was illuminating the parlor we could see Mrs.
McDonald and her children sitting about the heater, we hustled over to
the bunk house, in which we quickly kindled a fire and then brought
order out of the chaos we had left behind when we had been so
unexpectedly called away to clear the track.

While we were thus busily engaged, our work was suddenly interrupted by
several almost demoniacal shrieks that seemed to belong to Hades, and as
if driven by some common impulse, we rushed pell mell out of doors and
towards the "big" house. But before we could even reach it, we stopped
short as if rooted into the ground, for there upon the front porch, with
his face uplifted towards the starry firmament above him, stood