Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-10-05
CHAPTER III.-Continued.

his delayed after-breakfast cigar. and
timing the up-coming passenger train.
watch in hand. Carter was ten minutes.
to the exact second, behind his schedule
time when the train Numbered past on
the main track, and LidEerwood pocketed
l is watch with a smile of satisfaction
paigu for reform.
Later, however, when the special was
once more in motions westward, the desert
laid hold upon him with the grip which
hrsts benumbs. then breeds dull rage
and finally makes men mad Mile after
mile the glistening rails sped backward
into shimmering haze Of red dust The
glow Of the GREATNESS forenoon was like
the binding brightness Of forge fire
To right and left the great treeless plain
rose TO bare buttes, backed by still barer
mountains. Let the train speed as il
would. there was always the same weary
ing prospect. devoid of interest empty of
human landmarks. Only the blazing sun
swung from side to side with the slow
veerings of the track: what answered for
a horizon seemed never to change, never
to move.
At long intervals a siding. sometimes
with Its waiting train. but oftener empty
and deserted, slid into view and out
again Still less frequently a telegraph
station. with it's red, iron-roofed office
its water-tank cars and pumping ma
chinery. and it's high-fenced corral and
loading chute. moved up out OF the dis
tortlng heat haze ahead and was lost
In the dusty mirages to the rear. But
apart from the crews of the waiting
trains, and now and then the desert-so-
bered face of some telegraph operator
staring from his window at the passing
special. there were no signs Of life: no
cattle upon the distant hills, no loungers
on the station platforms.
Lidgerwood had crossed this arid, life
less plain twice within the week on his
preliminary tour of inspection. but both
times he had been in the Pullman. with
fellow-passengers to fill the nearer field
of vision and to temper the awful lone
Illness of the waste. Now, however, the
desert with its heat, its stiffness. its va
cancy. its pitiless barrenness. claimed
him as its own. He wondered that he
had been impatient with the men it bred.
The wonder now was that human virtue
of any temper could long Withstand the
blasting touch Of so great and awful a
desolation.
1t was past noon when the bowllike
basin, in which the train seemed to cir
Gle helplessly without gaining upon the
terrifying horizons, began to lose its
harshest features. Little by little the
tumbled hills drew nearer, and the red
sand dust of the roadbed gave place to
broken lava. Patches of gray. sun-dried
mountain grass appeared on the passing
hill slopes, and in the arroyos trickling
threads of water glistened, or. if the
water were hidden, there were at least
paths Of damp sand to hint at the
blessed moisture underneath
Lidgerwood began to breathe again: and
when the shrin whistle Of the locomotive
signaled the approach to the division
headquarters he was thankful that the
builders of Angels had pitched their tents
and driven their stakes in the desert s
edge. rather than in it's heart.
Truly. Angels was not much to be
thankful for. as the exile from the east
regretfully admitted when he looked out
upon it from the windows Of his office
in the second story of the Crows Nest.
A many-tracked railroad yard. f1anked on
one side by the repair shops. roundhouse
struggling town Of bare and common
place exteriors, implanted. unfenced. tree
less and wind-swept; Angels stood BADLY
for what 1t was-a mere stopping place
in transit for the Red Butte Western.
The new Superintendent turned his back
upon the depressing outlook and laid his
hand upon the latch Of the door opening
into the adjoining room. There was
thing to be said about the reckless
punching of trains out of reach of the
as later, he determined. But at the mo-
ment of door-Opening he was made to
realize that a tall, boXlike continuance in
one corner of the Office was a desk, and
that i was inhabited.
The man who rose up to greet him was
bearded heavy-shouldered and hollow
eyed. and he was past middle age. Green
cardboard cones protected his shirt
sleeves, and a shade of the same ma
terial viSoring the sunken eyes, were the
only clerkly suggestions about him. Since
he merely stood up and ran his fingers
through his thick black hair. with no
more than an distracted Good after
noon" for speech. Lidgerwood was left
to guess at his identity.
You are Mr.. Hallock?" Lidgerwood
made the guess without offering to shake
hands. the high boxlike desk forbidding
the attempt.
Yes" The answer was neither antag-
onistic nor placatory; it was merely
colorlesS.
My name is I.idgerwood. You have
heard of my appointment
Again the colorless Yes
Lidgerwood saw no good end to be sub
served by postponing the inevitable.
Mr. Ford spoke to me about you last
MIR. Cumberley's chief clerk, and that
since Cumberley's resignation you have
been acting superintendent of the Red
Butte Western. Do you want to stay on
as my lieutenant?'
For the long minute that Hallock took
before replying, the loose-lipped mouth
under the shaggy mustache seemed to
have lost the power of speech. But when
the words finally came they were Shorn
of all euphemism.
Il suppose / ought to tell you to go
straight to hell. Mr.. Lidgerwood. put on
my coat and walk out said this most
singular of all railway subordinates. by
all the rules Of the game this job belongs
to me. What I've gone through to earn
it you nor any other man Will ever
know. If 1 stay, I'll wish l hadn't. and
SO will you. You'd better give me
time check and let me CO.
Lidgerwood walked to the window and
once more stared out upon the dreary
prospect, bounded by the bluffs of the
second mesa. \ hOrSeman was ambllng
down the single street of the town. WeaV-
ing in his saddle and giving vent to
series of Indian war whoops. Lidger-
wood saw the drunken cowboy only with
the outward eye. And when he turned
back to the man in the rif1e-pit desk he
could not have told why the words of re-
his mind to say, refused to come. But
they did refuse. and what he said was
not at all what he had intended to say.
IF l can't quite match your frank
ness, Mr.. Hallock, it is because my early
education was neglected. But I'll say
this: | appreciate your disappointment;
know what it means to man situated
as you are. notwithstanding. L want
you to stay with me. I'll say more:
Shall take it as a personal favor If you
will stay
you'll be sorry for it if do was the
ungracious rejoinder.
Not because you will do anything to
make me sorry l am sure, said the new
in his eveneSt tone. And