For want of something better I resolved to await the return of the
section crew from their day's work, and walked back to the front of the
house and took a seat upon the steps. I casually glanced across the
tracks to where my pal, Peoria Red, was sleeping his eternal sleep, and
I was almost stunned by surprise when instead of the three crosses which
I had left behind when in the Spring I drifted to the Southland, I
counted five of those ill-omened messengers of death. In vain I tried to
solve the riddle of these added graves, and was about to cross over to
the grave plot beyond the tracks, hoping to find some inscriptions upon
the new crosses that would give me a key to the new tragedies that I
knew must have caused their presence, when the hand car with the
returning crew came into view, and forgetting all other matters, I
walked down to the tool house to meet it and was soon cordially welcomed
by my old comrades who had "held down" their jobs through the hot summer
months.

The same foreman, who had taken Foreman McDonald's place was still in
charge of the section reservation, and he good naturedly ordered the
crew to take proper care of me at the bunk house, where quickly a hot
supper, which the laborers cooked and served themselves, was made ready,
a welcome meal for a man who had not tasted a mouthful since the early
morning.

After supper had been cleared away and everything had been made snug
about the house, my chance came to inquire why I had found everything
about the reservation topsy-turvy, as compared with former days, and I
especially inquired as to the well-being and whereabouts of Mrs.
McDonald and her three youngsters, and the following is the
information one of the laborers gave me: