de
to the delight of the astonished boy, and after a time he wired Baxter
at Medicine Bend that a herd of at least one million buffaloes was
crossing the railroad at Goose Creek. As the grave despatcher seemed
not greatly excited by this intelligence, Bucks followed up the story
at intervals with vivid details. A wag on the wire in Medicine Bend
played upon his enthusiasm by demanding frequent bulletins, even going
so far as to ask the names of the leading buffaloes in the herd. When
he had got all the laughs possible for the office out of the youthful
operator, he wired Bucks that if the herd should linger too long on
the right-of-way he must notify them that they would be held as
trespassers.

This message had hardly reached Goose Creek when the China boy came
running into the telegraph office. His eyes were staring, and his face
was greenish-white with fright. "Indians!" he exclaimed, running to
Bucks's side and dashing back again to the west window.

Bucks sprang to his feet. "Where?"

Lee Ong pointed to the northern sand-hills. Riding the broad slopes
that led toward the river, Bucks saw a long string of braves,
evidently a hunting party. The cook, beside himself with fear, ran out
of the station before Bucks could stop him.

"Hi there, Lee," cried the operator, running after him. "Where are the
section men?"

"Gone," cried Lee Ong, not ceasing to run, "all gone!" He pointed,
with the words, to the east.

"Tell them to bring the hand-car down here!"

"Too much gone," shouted Ong. "Omaha!"

"Lee! Stop! Where are you going?"

Lee stopped only long enough to throw his right arm and forefinger
with an excited gesture toward the west.

"San Francisco, San Francisco!" he cried.

"Why, Lee," exclaimed Bucks running after him, "hold on! You are
crazy! San Francisco is fifteen hundred miles from here." This
information did not visibly move Ong. "Indian no good," he cried,
pausing, but only long enough to wave both hands wildly toward the
sand-hills. "San Francisco good. No some more cook here. Indian come
too quick"--Ong with his active finger girdled the crown of his head
in a lightning-like imitation of a scalping knife--"psst! No good for
Ong!"

It would have seemed funny to Bucks if he had not been already
frightened himself. But if the section men had fled with the hand-car
it meant he would have to face the Indians. Lee Ong, running like mad,
was already out of hearing, and in any event Bucks had no w