It was almost unpleasantly hot in the little iron-roofed room at the
railroad depot, and the agent, who flung the door open, stood still a
minute or two blinking into the darkness. A big lamp that flickered in the
wind cast an uncertain gleam upon the slushy whiteness under foot, and the
blurred outline of a towering water-tank showed dimly through the sliding
snow. He could also just discern the great locomotive waiting on the
side-track, and the sibilant hiss of steam that mingled with the moaning
of the wind whirling a white haze out of the obscurity. Beyond the track,
and showing only now and then, the lights of the wooden town blinked
fitfully; on the other hand and behind the depot was an empty waste of
snow-sheeted prairie. The temperature had gone up suddenly, but the agent
shivered as he felt the raw dampness strike through him, and, closing the
door, took off and shook his jacket and sat down by the stove again.
He wore a white shirt of unusually choice linen, with other garments of
fashionable city cut, for a station agent is a person of importance in the
West, and this one was at least as consequential as most of the rest. He
had finished his six o'clock supper at the wooden hotel a little earlier;
and as the next train going west would not arrive for two or three hours,
he took out a rank cigar, and, placing his feet upon a chair, prepared to
doze the time away, though he laid a bundle of accounts upon his knee, in
case anyone should come in unexpectedly. This, however, was distinctly
improbable on such a night.
The stove flung out a drowsy heat, and it was not long before his eyes
grew heavy. He could still hear the wailing of the wind and the swish of
the snow that whirled about the lonely building, and listened for a while
with tranquil contentment; for the wild weather he was not exposed to
enhanced the comfort of the warmth and brightness he enjoyed. Then, the
sounds grew less distinct and he heard nothing at all until he
straightened himself suddenly in his chair as a cold draught struck him. A
few flakes of snow also swept into the room and he saw that the door was
open.
"Hallo!" he called. "Wait there a moment. I guess this place doesn't
belong to you."
A man who looked big and shapeless in his whitened furs signed to somebody
outside without answering, and four or five other men in fur caps and
snow-sprinkled coats came in. They did not seem to consider it necessary
to wait for permission, and it dawned upon the agent that something
unusual was about to happen.
"We have a little business to put through," said one.
"Well," said the agent brusquely, "I can't attend to you now. You can come
back later--when the train comes in."
One of the newcomers smiled sardonically, and the agent recognized two of
his companions. They were men of some importance in that country, who had,
however joined the homestead movement and were under the ban of the
company's chief supporters, the cattle-barons. There was accordingly no
inducement to waste civility on them; but he had an unpleasant feeling
that unnecessary impertinence would not be advisable.
"It has got to be put through now," said the first of them, with a little
ring in his voice. "We want a locomotive and a calaboose to take us to
Boynton, and we are quite willing to pay anything reasonable."
"It can't be done. We have only the one loco here, and she is wanted to
shove the west-bound train up the long grade to the hills."
"I guess that train will have to get through alone to-night," said another
man.
The agent got up with an impatient gesture. "Now," he said, "I don't feel
like arguing with you. You can't have the loco."
"No?" said the homesteader, with a little laugh. "Well, I figure you're
mistaken. We have taken charge of her already and only want the bill. If
you don't believe me, call your engineer."
The agent strode to the door, and there was a momentary silence after he
called, "Pete!"