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Updated: May 11, 2025
McCloud called her over the telephone in the afternoon to say that he was going West on the evening train and would not be over for supper. She wished he could have come, for her loneliness began to be insupportable. Toward sunset she put on her hat and started for the post-office. In the meantime, Dicksie, at home, had called McCloud up and told him she was coming down for the night.
Dicksie attempted some soup, and McCloud found a strip of bacon, and after he had cooked it, Dicksie, with her riding-skirt pinned up and her sleeves delightfully rolled back, began frying eggs. When Marion, unable longer to withstand the excitement, appeared, the engineer, flushed with endeavor, was making toast. The three sat down at table together.
Just as she seemed about to ride away, she dropped lightly from the horse to the ground, and he saw how confident in figure she was. As she began to try her saddle-girths, McCloud attempted a greeting.
Besides, I'm short a line in the chorus, and that is what I'm waiting for to finish the song. "Chorus: "Then here's to the bumper that proves every friend! And though in the drinking it wrings us, Here's to the cup that we drain to the end, And here's to There I stick. I can't work out the last line." "And here's to the hearts that it brings us!" exclaimed Dicksie. "Fine!" cried McCloud.
If I go with you to Shasta and the McCloud River, and come back in a week or a fortnight to do my sightseeing, nothing will be the same. I believe you will understand how I feel. My impressions will be broken. Besides, Mr. Hilliard is here now, and willing to show me what I ought to see. I'm afraid I seemed to repay his kindness by being rude to him at Paso Robles.
At the noon hour McCloud was signing letters when Dicksie Dunning walked hurriedly up the hall and hesitated in the passageway before the open door of his office. He gave an exclamation as he pushed back his chair. She was in her riding-suit just as she had slipped from her saddle. "Oh, Mr. McCloud, have you heard the awful news? Whispering Smith was killed yesterday in Williams Cache by Du Sang."
"This will do," announced McCloud; "you waited here half a day for steel a week ago; I know the ground. Break that joint, Pat." He pointed to the rail under his foot. "Pass ahead with the engine and car about a thousand feet," he said to the conductor, "and when I give you a signal back up slow and look out for a thirty-degree curve without any elevation, either.
McCloud dropped forward in his saddle, and, seeking no explanation, laid his head low and spurred Bill Dancing's horse for life or death. The horse, quite amazed, bolted and swerved down the grade like a snipe, with his rider crouching close for a second shot.
"How long will it take them to clean up this mess with what help we can run in this afternoon?" Young studied the prospect before replying. "They're green at this sort of thing, of course; they might be fussing here till to-morrow noon, I'm afraid; perhaps till to-morrow night, Mr. McCloud." "That won't do!" The two men stood for a moment in a study.
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