When he awoke it was beginning to get dark.  Garrison had left the caboose, evidently to have a look at the stock.  Dave ate some crackers and cheese, climbed to the roof, and with a lantern hanging on his arm moved forward.

Already a few of the calves, yielding to the pressure in the heavily laden cars, had tried to escape it by lying down.  With his prod Dave drove back the nearest animal.  Then he used the nail in the pole to twist the tails of the calves and force them to their feet.  In those days of crowded cars almost the most important thing in transit was to keep the cattle on their legs to prevent any from being trampled and smothered to death.

As the night grew older both men were busier.  With their lanterns and prod-poles they went from car to car relieving the pressure wherever it was greatest.  The weaker animals began to give way, worn out by the heavy lurching and the jam of heavy bodies against them.  They had to be defended against their own weakness.

Dave was crossing from the top of one car to another when he heard his name called.  He knew the voice belonged to Garrison and he listened to make sure from which car it came.  Presently he heard it a second time and localized the sound as just below him.  He entered the car by the end door near the roof.

“Hello!  Call me?” he asked.

“Yep.  I done fell and bust my laig.  Can you get me outa here?”

“Bad, is it?”

“Broken.”

“I’ll get some of the train hands.  Will you be all right till I get back?” the young man asked.

“I reckon.  Hop along lively.  I’m right in the jam here.”

The conductor stopped the train.  With the help of the crew Dave got Garrison back to the caboose.  There was no doubt that the leg was broken.  It was decided to put the injured man off at the next station, send him back by the up train, and wire West that Dave would see the cattle got through all right.  This was done.

Dave got no more sleep that night.  He had never been busier in his life.  Before morning broke half the calves were unable to keep their feet.  The only thing to do was to reload.

He went to the conductor and asked for a siding.  The man running the train was annoyed, but he did not say so.  He played for time.

“All right.  We’ll come to one after a while and I’ll put you on it,” he promised.

Half an hour later the train rumbled merrily past a siding without stopping.  Dave walked back along the roof to the caboose.

“We’ve just passed a siding,” he told the trainman.

“Couldn’t stop there.  A freight behind us has orders to take that to let the Limited pass,” he said glibly.

Dave suspected he was lying, but he could not prove it.  He asked where the next siding was.

“A little ways down,” said a brakeman.

The puncher saw his left eyelid droop in a wink to the conductor.  He knew now that they were “stalling” for time.  The end of their run lay only thirty miles away.  They had no intention of losing two or three hours’ time while the cattle were reloaded.  After the train reached the division point another conductor and crew would have to wrestle with the problem.