A STEP BACKWARD. 168 
disappearing train, as though there was yet hope for 
theirsuccor, A few bundles of baled hay ora few 
sacks of bran or shorts tumbling from a moving car 
was a possibility—and if possible why not hopeon? But 
with the inmates of the cars it was a matter of prop- 
erty. The cattle did not belong to them—and what 
had they to do with these starving cattle? The cham- 
paign tasted just as good to them—the warm fire in the 
smoking car was just as comfortable after their swift 
passage through the distressful scene as before they 
came to it. To the cattle a ray of hope came and went 
and came and went again. Theirs was now a part of 
the eternal years that would go and come and go and 
come forever—and in time’s onward way would there 
come a day of reversal to this earthly order in the rule 
and in the dominion of the animal man?P 
The trains over the Northern Pacific continued to roll 
over the rails and a fresh fall of snow acted as a screen 
or curtain to the scene we have just described. But 
when the days became longer and the big bright sun 
grew warmer, the snow uncovered its dead about the 
trestles and bridges. The cattle were there still and 
for that matter still there—for they were all dead. The 
hardiest of the bunches had clawed and chewed the 
ties and bridge timber in the vain hope of extracting 
a further lease of life—but to the wretched creatures— 
only death came. 
With the destruction of these herds the owners there- 
of became bankrupts. But new owners came with 
new herds—and many of the scenes were re-enacted 
