to a stop, the engine at the
water tank. When Craddock came down out of the train, would he come
alone?

Morgan was mounted on the horse borrowed from Stilwell, an agile young
animal, tractable and intelligent. A yellow slicker was rolled and tied
at the cantle of the saddle; at the horn a coil of brown rope hung,
pliant and smooth from much use upon the range among cattle. Morgan's
rifle was slung on the saddle in its worn scabbard, its battered stock,
from which the varnish had gone long ago in the hard usage of many
years, close to the rider's hand.

It needed no announcement of wailing whistle or clanging bell to tell
Ascalon of the approach of a train from the east. In that direction the
fall of the land toward the Arkansas River began many miles distant from
the town, seeming to blend downward from a great height which dimmed out
in blue haze against the horizon. A little way along this high pitch of
land, before it turned down the grade that led into the river valley,
the railroad ran transversely.

The moment a train mounted this land's edge and swept along the straight
transverse section of track, it was in full sight of Ascalon, day or
night, except in stormy weather, although many miles away. A man still
had ample time to shine his shoes, pack his valise, put on his collar
and coat--if he wore them--walk to the depot and buy his ticket, after
the train came in sight on top of this distant hill.

Once the train headed straight for Ascalon it dropped out of sight, and
one unused to the trend of things might wonder if it had gone off on
another line. Presently it would appear again, laboring up out of a dip,
rise the intervening billow of land, small as a toy that one could hold
in the hand, and sink out of sight again. This way it approached
Ascalon, now promising, now denying, drawing into plainer sight with
every rise.

On this particular afternoon when the sun-baked people of Ascalon stood
waiting in such tensity of expectation that their minds were ready to
crack like the dry, contracting earth beneath their feet, it seemed that
nature had laid off that land across which the railroad ran with the
sole view of adding to the dramatic value of Seth Craddock's entry in
this historic hour. Certainly art could not have devised a more
effective means of whetting the anxiety, straining the suspense, than
this.

When the train first came in sight over the hill there was a murmur, a
movement of feet as people