ace good till then?"

MacGuire looked at him curiously. The news of the fracas had not yet
reached the Blazing Star.

"Why, sure," said he. "Sure it is, Flannagan, if you want it.
What's----"

"Then let 'em come my way," Flannagan rapped out, with a savage laugh;
"an' let 'em come--_fast_."

Flannagan was the wrecking boss. A hard man, Regan had called him, and
he was--a product of the wild, rough, pioneering life, one of those men
who had followed the grim-faced, bearded corps of engineers as they
pitted their strength against the sullen gray of the mighty Rockies
from the eastern foothills to the plains of the Sierras, fighting every
inch of their way with indomitable perseverance and daring over chasms
and gorges, through tunnels and cuts, in curves and levels and grades,
against obstacles that tried their souls, against death itself, taping
the thin steel lines they left behind them with their own blood. Hard?
Yes, Flannagan was hard. Un-cultured, rough, primal, he undoubtedly
was. A brute man, perhaps, full of the elemental--fiery, hot-headed,
his passions alone swayed him. That side of Flannagan, the years, in
the very environment in which he had lived them, had developed to the
full--the other side had been untouched. What Flannagan did that night
another might not have done--or he might. The judging of men is a
grave business best let alone.

Flannagan let go his hold then; not at once, but gradually. That night
spent in the Blazing Star was the first of others, others that followed
insidiously, each closer upon the former's heels. Daisy had gone--had
gone that night--where, he did not know, and told himself he did not
care. He grew moody, sullen, uncompanionable. Big Cloud took
sides--the women for Flannagan; the men for the wife. Flannagan hated
the women, avoided the men--and went to the Blazing Star.

There was only one result--the inevitable one. Regan, kindly for all
his gruffness, understanding in a way, stood between Flannagan and the
super and warned Flannagan oftener than most men were warned on the
Hill Division. Nor were his warnings altogether without effect.
Flannagan would steady up--temporarily--maybe for a week--than off
again. Steady up just long enough to keep putting off and postponing
the final reckoning. And then one day, some six months after Daisy
Flannagan had gone away, the master mechanic warned him for the last
time.

"I'm through with you, Flannagan," he sa