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 It was as if she had set off dynamite in ignorance of its properties, or turned a switch and ditched a train.

Windy Moore passed her, bareheaded, suspenders over his undershirt, pistol in his hand; railroaders opened doors along the hall and came out buttoning their garments, sleep and alarm making wild confusion in their faces. They hurried away after Windy Moore, the call of the whistle urging them as Baldy Evans pulled it now in short, excited jerks.

Myron took the bowl of his pipe from his hip pocket, the stem from the ruler slip along his leg, fitting the parts together as he went deliberately downstairs. Mrs. Cowgill turned to her room with startled quickness, as if a screen had been pulled down revealing her incomplete array to the boarders' eyes. Louise went down to the office, dumbly frantic in her despair.

Angus Valorous was sittngsitting [sic] on the end of his cot, slewed around to give a clear passage, lacing his shoes. Myron had gone to the sidewalk; Windy Moore and the others had passed out of sight. Louise went to the edge of the walk and stood near Myron, who was filling his pipe with unshaken hand.

In the little while since Windy Moore's shot had brought this precipitate alarm over sleeping McPacken, daylight had increased rapidly. Louise could see the stock yards dimly, and the piles of railroad ties which lay at the corner of the pens. The cattle were moving about, uneasy in their confinement, lifting their highstrained, lonesome plaint of impatience and hunger. Louise could not see whether Laylander was on guard.