l looked to, and, veteran warrior that he
was, he quickly got a grip on things. One hard-riding scout, a man as wily
as the Indian himself, he despatched to warn all outlying settlers. He
could spare no more than one. Then he sent telegraphic messages for the
military, whose fort a progressive and humane government had located some
two hundred miles away. Then he divided his volunteers, equipped with
their own arms, and all the better for that, and detailed one party for
the town's defence, and the other to join him in the work of rescue.

These things arranged, then came the first check. It was discovered that
the driver of the only locomotive in the place was sick. The engine
itself, a rusty looking ancient machine, was standing coldly idle in the
yards.

A deputation waited upon the sick man, while others went and coupled up
some empty trucks and fired the engine. Seth was among the latter. The
deputation returned. It was fever; and the man could not come. Being ready
campaigners, their thoughts turned on their horses.

The sheriff was a blank man for the moment. It was a question of time, he
knew. He was standing beside the locomotive which had already begun to
snort, and which looked, at that moment, in the eyes of those gathered
round it, despite its rustiness, a truly magnificent proposition. He was
about to call for volunteers to replace the driver, when Seth, who all the
time had been working in the cab, and who had heard the news of the
trouble, leant over the rail that protected the foot-plate.

"Say, Dan," he said. "If none of the boys are scared to ride behind me,
and I don't figger they are, I'll pump the old kettle along. Guess I've
fired a traction once. I don't calc'late she'll have time to bust up in
forty miles. I'll take the chances if they will."

The sheriff looked up at the thoughtful face above him. He grinned, and
others grinned with him. But their amusement was quite lost on Seth. He
was trying to estimate the possible result of putting the "kettle," as he
called the locomotive, at full steam ahead, disregarding every other tap
and gauge on the driving plate, and devoting himself to heaping up the
furnace. These things interested him, not as a source of danger, but only
in the matter of speed.

"Good for you, Seth," cried Dan Somers. "Now, boys, all aboard!"

And Seth turned to the driving plate and sounded a preliminary whistle.

CHAPTER IV

ROSEBUD

It is nearly midday, and