“You’ve got to hold up here,” said Collins.
Casey removed his pipe to refill it. “Ah-huh!” he grunted.
“Wire from Medicine Bow—order to stop General Lodge’s train—three hundred Sioux in ambush near this station—Lodge’s train between here and Roaring City,” breathlessly went on the operator.
“An’ the message come from Medicine Bow!” ejaculated Casey, while his men gaped and muttered.
“Yes. It must have been sent here last night. But O’Neil, the night operator, was dead. Murdered by Indians while we slept.”
“Thot’s hell!” replied Casey, seriously, as he lit his pipe.
“The message went through to Medicine Bow. Stacey down there sent it back to me. I tried to get Hills at Roaring City. No go! The wire’s cut!”
“An’ shure the gineral’s train has left—wot’s that new camp—Roarin’ wot?”
“Roaring City.... General Lodge went through two days ago with a private train. He had soldiers, as usual. But no force to stand off three hundred Sioux, or even a hundred.”
“Wal, the gineral must hev lift Roarin’ City—else thot message niver would hev come.”