uriated mob from raiding and burning his
house. The action of Guerin was no surprise, as he was employed in
the office of the master-mechanic, and has always been regarded as a
company man--almost as an official.

HOGAN.

Guerin, having put in a fresh fire, stood watching the face of his
companion, and when the engineer crumpled the message in his hand and
ground his teeth together the fireman shoved another message under the
nose of the unhappy man. This message was on the same subject, but from
quite another source, and varied slightly from those we have just read.

OFFICIAL BULLETIN: _Burlington Route_

The Denver Limited went out on time to-night with a reasonably
well-filled train, Engineer Cowels in the cab. Mr. Cowels has been
many years in the service of the company and is highly esteemed by
the officials. Although he was, for a time, a prominent striker, he
saw the folly of further resistance on the part of the employees,
and this morning came to the company's office and begged to be
allowed to return to his old run, which request was granted. Cowels
is a thoroughly competent engineer and has been on this same run
for five years, and up to the time of the strike had never missed a
trip. It is expected that his return to his engine will be the
signal for a general stampede. The company has generously agreed to
re[:i]nstate all old employees (unless guilty of some lawless act) who
return before noon to-morrow.

STONAKER.

It would be difficult to say which of these dispatches distressed him
most. The first said he had sold himself for so much money, the second
that he had gone to the company and begged to be re[:i]nstated. Slowly he
opened the first crumpled message and read down to the word "scab."
"George Cowels, the scab,--burned in effigy--a great mob about his
house." All these things passed swiftly before him, and the thought of
his wife and baby being in actual danger, his boy being kicked and
cuffed about, almost made him mad. He crushed the crumpled messages in
his right hand while with his left he pulled the throttle wide open. The
powerful Blackwings, built to make time with ten cars loaded, leaped
forward like a frightened deer. The speed of the train was now terrific,
and the stations, miles apart, brushed by them like telegraph poles. At
Mendota a crowd of men hurled sticks and stones at the flying train. As
the stone