s of a few minutes
before. Plainly, there was no "show-off stuff" in Trevison. His feat of
riding down the wall of the cut had not been performed to impress anyone;
the look of reckless abandon in the otherwise serene eyes that held
Murphy's steadily, convinced the engineer that the man had merely
responded to a dare-devil impulse. There was something in Trevison's
appearance that suggested an entire disregard of fear. The engineer had
watched the face of a brother of his craft one night when the latter had
been driving a roaring monster down a grade at record-breaking speed into
a wall of rain-soaked darkness out of which might thunder at any instant
another roaring monster, coming in the opposite direction. There had been
a mistake in orders, and the train was running against time to make a
switch. Several times during the ride Murphy had caught a glimpse of the
engineer's face, and the eyes had haunted him since--defiance of death,
contempt of consequences, had been reflected in them. Trevison's eyes
reminded him of the engineer's. But in Trevison's eyes was an added
expression--cold humor. The engineer of Murphy's recollection would have
met death dauntlessly. Trevison would meet it no less dauntlessly, but
would mock at it. Murphy looked long and admiringly at him, noting the
deep chest, the heavy muscles, the blue-black sheen of his freshly-shaven
chin and jaw under the tan; the firm, mobile mouth, the aggressive set to
his head. Murphy set his age down at twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Murphy
was sixty himself--the age that appreciates, and secretly envies, the
virility of youth. Carson was complimenting Trevison on his descent of the
wall of the cut.

"You're a daisy rider, me bhoy!"

"Nigger's a clever horse," smiled Trevison. Murphy was pleased that he was
giving the animal the credit. "Nigger's well trained. He's wiser than some
men. Tricky, too." He patted the sleek, muscular neck of the beast and the
animal whinnied gently. "He's careful of his master, though," laughed
Trevison. "A man pulled a gun on me, right after I'd got Nigger. He had
the drop, and he meant business. I had to shoot. To disconcert the fellow,
I had to jump Nigger against him. Since then, whenever Nigger sees a gun
in anyone's hand, he thinks it's time to bowl that man over. There's no
holding him. He won't even stand for anyone pulling a handkerchief out of
a hip pocket when I'm on him." Trevison grinned. "Try it, Carson, but get
that b