The Coming of Cassidy—And the Others/The Hold-up
X
THE HOLD-UP
THE herd delivered at Sandy Creek had traveled only half way, for the remaining part of the journey would be on the railroad. The work of loading the cars was fast, furious fun to anyone who could find humor enough in his make-up to regard it so. Then came a long, wearying ride for the five men picked from the drive outfit to attend to the cattle on the way to the cattle pens of the city. Their work at last done, they "saw the sights" and were now returning to Sandy Creek.
The baggage smoking-car reeked with strong tobacco, the clouds of smoke shifting with the air currents, and dimly through the haze could be seen several men. Three of these were playing cards near the baggage-room door, while two more lounged in a seat half way down the aisle and on the other side of the car. Across from the card-players, reading a magazine, was a fat man, and near the water cooler was a dyspeptic-looking individual who was grumbling about the country through which he was passing.
The first five, as their wearing apparel proclaimed, were not of the kind usually found on trains, not the drummer, the tourist, or the farmer. Their heads were covered with heavy sombreros, their coats were of thick, black woolens, and their shirts were also of wool. Around the throat of each was a large handkerchief, knotted at the back; their trousers were protected by "chaps," of which three were of goatskin. The boots were tight-fitting, narrow, and with high heels, and to them were strapped heavy spurs. Around the waist, hanging loosely from one hip, each wore a wide belt containing fifty cartridges in the loops, and supporting a huge Colt's revolver, which rested against the thigh.
They were happy and were trying to sing but, owing to different tastes, there was noticeable a lack of harmony. "Oh Susanna" never did go well with "Annie Laurie," and as for "Dixie," it was hopelessly at odds with the other two. But they were happy, exuberantly so, for they had enjoyed their relaxation in the city and now were returning to the station where their horses were waiting to carry them over the two hundred miles which lay between their ranch and the nearest railroad-station.
For a change the city had been pleasant, but after they had spent several days there it lost its charm and would not have been acceptable to them even as a place in which to die. They had spent their money, smoked "top-notcher" cigars, seen the "shows" and feasted each as his fancy dictated, and as behooved cowpunchers with money in their pockets. Now they were glad that every hour reduced the time of their stay in the smoky, jolting, rocking train, for they did not like trains, and this train was particularly bad. So they passed the hours as best they might and waited impatiently for the stop at Sandy Creek, where they had left their horses. Their trip to the "fence country" was now a memory, and they chafed to be again in the saddle on the open, wind-swept range, where miles were insignificant and the silence soothing.
The fat man, despairing of reading, watched the card-players and smiled in good humor as he listened to their conversation, while the dyspeptic, nervously twisting his newspaper, wished that he were at his destination. The baggage-room door opened and the conductor looked down on the card-players and grinned. Skinny moved over in the seat to make room for the genial conductor.
"Sit down, Simms, an' take a hand," he invited. Laughter arose continually and the fat man joined in it, leaning forward more closely to watch the play.
Lanky tossed his cards face down on the board and grinned at the onlooker.
"Billy shore bluffs more on a varigated flush than any man I ever saw."
"Call him once in a while and he 'll get cured of it," laughed the fat man, bracing himself as the train swung around a sharp turn.
"He 's too smart," growled Billy Williams. "He tried that an' found I did n't have no varigated flushes. Come on, Lanky, if yo 're playing cards, put up."
Farther down the car, their feet resting easily on the seat in front of them, Hopalong and Red puffed slowly at their large, black cigars and spoke infrequently, both idly watching the plain flit by in wearying sameness, and both tired and lazy from doing nothing but ride.
"Blast th' cars, anyhow," grunted Hopalong, but he received no reply, for his companion was too disgusted to say anything.
A startling, sudden increase in the roar of the train and a gust of hot, sulphurous smoke caused Hopalong to look up at the brakeman, who came down the swaying aisle as the door slammed shut.
"Phew!" he exclaimed, genially. "Why in thunder don't you fellows smoke up?"
Hopalong blew a heavy ring, stretched energetically and grinned: "Much farther to Sandy Creek?"
"Oh, you don't get off for three hours yet," laughed the brakeman.
"That 's shore a long time to ride this bronc train," moodily complained Red as the singing began again. "She shore pitches a-plenty," he added.
The train-hand smiled and seated himself on the arm of the front seat:
"Oh, it might be worse."
"Not this side of hades," replied Red with decision, watching his friend, who was slapping the cushions to see the dust fly out: "Hey, let up on that, will you! There's dust a-plenty without no help from you!"
The brakeman glanced at the card-players and then at Hopalong.
"Do your friends always sing like that?" he inquired.
"Mostly, but sometimes it's worse."
"On the level?"
"Shore enough; they 're singing 'Dixie,' now. It 's their best song."
"That ain't 'Dixie!'"
"Yes it is: that is, most of it."
"Well, then, what's the rest of it?"
"Oh, them 's variations of their own," remarked Red, yawning and stretching. "Just wait till they start something sentimental; you 'll shore weep."
"I hope they stick to the variations. Say, you must be a pretty nifty gang on the shoot, ain't you?"
"Oh, some," answered Hopalong.
"I wish you fellers had been aboard with us one day about a month ago. We was the wrong end of a hold-up, and we got cleaned out proper, too."
"An' how many of 'em did you get?" asked Hopalong quickly, sitting bolt upright.
The fat man suddenly lost his interest in the card-game and turned an eager ear to the brakeman, while the dyspeptic stopped punching holes in his time-card and listened. The card-players glanced up and then returned to their game, but they, too, were listening.
The brakeman was surprised: "How many did we get! Gosh! we didn't get none! They was six to our five."
"How many cards did you draw, you Piute?" asked Lanky.
"None of yore business; I ain't dealing, an' I would n't tell you if I was," retorted Billy.
"Well, I can ask, can't I?"
"Yes—you can, an' did."
"You did n't get none?" cried Hopalong, doubting his ears.
"I should say not!"
"An' they owned th' whole train?"
"They did."
Red laughed. "Th' cleaning-up must have been sumptuous an' elevating."
"Every time I holds threes he allus has better," growled Lanky to Simms.
"On th' level, we could n't do a thing," the brakeman ran on. "There 's a water tank a little farther on, and they must 'a' climbed aboard there when we stopped to connect. When we got into the gulch the train slowed down and stopped and I started to get up to go out and see what was the matter; but I saw that when I looked down a gun-barrel. The man at the throttle end of it told me to put up my hands, but they were up as high then as I could get 'em without climbin' on the top of the seat.
"Can't you listen and play at th' same time?" Lanky asked Billy.
"I was n't countin' on takin' the gun away from him," the brakeman continued, "for I was too busy watchin' for the slug to come out of the hole. Pretty soon somebody on the outside whistled and then another feller come in the car; he was the one that did the cleanin' up. All this time there had been a lot of shootin' outside, but now it got worse. Then I heard another whistle and the engine puffed up the track, and about five minutes later there was a big explosion, and then our two robbers backed out of the car among the rocks shootin' back regardless. They busted a lot of windows."
"An' you did n't git none," grumbled Hopalong, regretfully.
"When we got to the express-car, what had been pulled around the turn," continued the brakeman, not heeding the interruption, "we found a wreck. And we found the engineer and fireman standin' over the express-messenger, too scared to know he would n't come back no more. The car had been blowed up with dynamite, and his fighting soul went with it. He never knowed he was licked."
"An' nobody tried to help him!" Hopalong exclaimed, wrathfully now.
"Nobody wanted to die with him," replied the brakeman.
"Well," cried the fat man, suddenly reaching for his valise, "I 'd like to see anybody try to hold me up!" Saying which he brought forth a small revolver.
"You 'd be praying out of your bald spot about that time," muttered the brakeman.
Hopalong and Red turned, perceived the weapon, and then exchanged winks.
"That's a fine shootin'-iron, stranger," gravely remarked Hopalong.
"You bet it is!" purred the owner, proudly. "I paid six dollars for that gun."
Lanky smothered a laugh and his friend grinned broadly: "I reckon that 'd kill a man—if you stuck it in his ear."
"Pshaw!" snorted the dyspeptic, scornfully. "You would n't have time to get it out of that grip. Think a train-robber is going to let you unpack? Why don't you carry it in your hip-pocket, where you can get at it quickly?"
There were smiles at the stranger's belief in the hip-pocket fallacy but no one commented upon it.
"Was n't there no passengers aboard when you was stuck up?" Lanky asked the conductor.
"Yes, but you can't count passengers in on a deal like that."
Hopalong looked around aggressively: "We 're passengers, ain't we?"
"You certainly are."
"Well, if any misguided maverick gets it into his fool head to stick us up, you see what happens. Don't you know th' fellers outside have all th' worst o' th' deal?"
"They have not!" cried the brakeman.
"They 've got all the best of it," asserted the conductor emphatically. "I 've been inside, and I know."
"Best nothing!" cried Hopalong. "They are on th' ground, watching a danger-line over a hundred yards long, full of windows and doors. Then they brace th' door of a car full of people. While they climb up the steps they can't see inside, an' then they go an' stick their heads in plain sight. It's an even break who sees th' other first, with th' men inside training their guns on th' glass in th' door!"
"Darned if you ain't right!" enthusiastically cried the fat man.
Hopalong laughed: "It all depends on th' men inside. If they ain't used to handling guns, 'course they won't try to fight. We 've been in so many gun-festivals that we would n't stop to think. If any coin-collector went an' stuck his ugly face against th' glass in that door he 'd turn a back-flip off 'n th' platform before he knowed he was hit. Is there any chance for a stick-up to-day, d'y think?"
"Can't tell," replied the brakeman. "But this is about the time we have the section-camps' pay on board," he said, going into the baggage end of the car.
Simms leaned over close to Skinny. "It 's on this train now, and I 'm worried to death about it. I wish we were at Sandy Creek."
"Don't you go to worryin' none, then," the puncher replied. "It 'll get to Sandy Creek all right."
Hopalong looked out of the window again and saw that there was a gradual change in the nature of the scenery, for the plain was becoming more broken each succeeding mile. Small woods occasionally hurtled past and banks of cuts flashed by like mottled yellow curtains, shutting off the view. Scrub timber stretched away on both sides, a billowy sea of green, and miniature valleys lay under the increasing number of trestles twisting and winding toward a high horizon.
Hopalong yawned again: "Well, it's none o' our funeral. If they let us alone I don't reckon we 'll take a hand, not even to bust up this monotony."
Red laughed derisively: "Oh, no! Why, you could n't sit still nohow with a fight going on, an' you know it. An' if it's a stick-up! Wow!"
"Who gave you any say in this?" demanded his friend. "Anyhow, you ain't no angel o' peace, not nohow!"
"Mebby they 'll plug yore new sombrero," laughed Red.
Hopalong felt of the article in question: "If any two-laigged wolf plugs my war-bonnet he 'll be some sorry, an' so 'll his folks," he asserted, rising and going down the aisle for a drink.
Red turned to the brakeman, who had just returned: "Say," he whispered, "get off at th' next stop, shoot off a gun, an' yell, just for fun. Go ahead, it 'll be better 'n a circus."
"Nix on the circus, says I," hastily replied the other. "I ain't looking for no excitement, an' I ain't paid to amuse th' passengers. I hope we don't even run over a track-torpedo this side of Sandy Creek."
Hopalong returned, and as he came even with them the train slowed.
"What are we stopping for?" he asked, his hand going to his holster.
"To take on water; the tank 's right ahead."
"What have you got?" asked Billy, ruffling his cards.
"None of yore business," replied Lanky. "You call when you gets any curious."
"Oh, th' devil!" yawned Hopalong, leaning back lazily. "I shore wish I was on my cayuse pounding leather on th' home trail."
"Me, too," grumbled Red, staring out of the window. "Well, we 're moving again. It won't be long now before we gets out of this."
The card-game continued, the low-spoken terms being interspersed with casual comment; Hopalong exchanged infrequent remarks with Red, while the brakeman and conductor stared out of the same window. There was noticeable an air of anxiety, and the fat man tried to read his magazine with his thoughts far from the printed page. He read and re-read a single paragraph several times without gaining the slightest knowledge of what it meant, while the dyspeptic passenger fidgeted more and more in his seat, like one sitting on hot coals, anxious and alert.
"We 're there now," suddenly remarked the conductor, as the bank of a cut blanked out the view. "It was right here where it happened; the turn 's farther on."
"How many cards did you draw, Skinny?" asked Lanky.
"Three; drawin' to a straight flush," laughed the dealer.
"Here 's the turn! We 're through all right," exclaimed the brakeman.
Suddenly there was a rumbling bump, a screeching of air-brakes and the grinding and rattle of couplings and pins as the train slowed down and stopped with a suddenness that snapped the passengers forward and back. The conductor and brakeman leaped to their feet, where the latter stood quietly during a moment of indecision.
A shot was heard and the conductor's hand, raised quickly to the whistle-rope sent blast after blast shrieking over the land. A babel of shouting burst from the other coaches and, as the whistle shrieked without pause, a shot was heard close at hand and the conductor reeled suddenly and sank into a seat, limp and silent.
At the first jerk of the train the card-players threw the board from across their knees, scattering the cards over the floor, and crouching, gained the center of the aisle, intently peering through the windows, their Colts ready for instant use. Hopalong and Red were also in the aisle, and when the conductor had reeled Hopalong's Colt exploded and the man outside threw up his arms and pitched forward.
"Good boy, Hopalong!" cried Skinny, who was fighting mad.
Hopalong wheeled and crouched, watching the door, and it was not long before a masked face appeared on the farther side of the glass. Hopalong fired and a splotch of red stained the white mask as the robber fell against the door and slid to the platform.
"Hear that shooting?" cried the brakeman. "They 're at the messenger. They 'll blow him up!"
"Come on, fellers!" cried Hopalong, leaping toward the door, closely followed by his friends.
They stepped over the obstruction on the platform and jumped to the ground on the side of the car farthest from the robbers.
"Shoot under the cars for legs," whispered Skinny. "That 'll bring 'em down where we can get 'em."
"Which is a good idea," replied Red, dropping quickly and looking under the car.
"Somebody's going to be surprised, all right," exulted Hopalong.
The firing on the other side of the train was heavy, being for the purpose of terrifying the passengers and to forestall concerted resistance. The robbers could not distinguish between the many reports and did not know they were being opposed, or that two of their number were dead.
A whinny reached Hopalong's ears and he located it in a small grove ahead of him: "Well, we know where th' cayuses are in case they make a break."
A white and scared face peered out of the cab-window and Hopalong stopped his finger just in time, for the inquisitive man wore the cap of fireman.
"You idiot!" muttered the gunman, angrily. "Get back!" he ordered.
A pair of legs ran swiftly along the other side of the car and Red and Skinny fired instantly. The legs bent, their owner falling forward behind the rear truck, where he was screened from sight.
"They had it their own way before!" gritted Skinny. "Now we 'll see if they can stand th' iron!"
By this time Hopalong and Red were crawling under the express-car and were so preoccupied that they did not notice the faint blue streak of smoke immediately over their heads. Then Red glanced up to see what it was that sizzed, saw the glowing end of a three-inch fuse, and blanched. It was death not to dare and his hand shot up and back, and the dynamite cartridge sailed far behind him to the edge of the embankment, where it hung on a bush.
"Good!" panted Hopalong. "We 'll pay 'em for that!"
"They 're worse 'n rustlers!"
They could hear the messenger running about over their heads, dragging and up-ending heavy objects against the doors of the car, and Hopalong laughed grimly:
"Luck 's with this messenger, all right."
"It ought to be—he 's a fighter."
"Where are they? Have they tumbled to our game?"
"They 're waiting for the explosion, you chump."
"Stay where you are then. Wait till they come out to see what 's th' matter with it."
Red snorted: "Wait nothing!"
"All right, then; I 'm with you. Get out of my way."
"I 've been in situations some peculiar, but this beats 'em all," Red chuckled, crawling forward.
The robber by the car truck revived enough to realize that something was radically wrong, and shouted a warning as he raised himself on his elbow to fire at Skinny but the alert puncher shot first.
As Hopalong and Red emerged from beneath the car and rose to their feet there was a terrific explosion and they were knocked to the ground, while a sudden, heavy shower of stones and earth rained down over everything. The two punchers were not hurt and they arose to their feet in time to see the engineer and fireman roll out of the cab and crawl along the track on their hands and knees, dazed and weakened by the concussion.
Suddenly, from one of the day-coaches, a masked man looked out, saw the two punchers, and cried:
"It's all up! Save yourselves!"
As Hopalong and Red looked around, still dazed, he fired at them, the bullet singing past Hopalong's ear. Red smothered a curse and reeled as his friend grasped him. A wound over his right eye was bleeding profusely and Hopalong's face cleared of its look of anxiety when he realized that it was not serious.
"They creased you! Blamed near got you for keeps!" he cried, wiping away the blood with his sleeve.
Red, slightly stunned, opened his eyes and looked about confusedly. "Who done that? Where is he?"
"Don't know, but I'll shore find out," Hopalong replied. "Can you stand alone?"
Red pushed himself free and leaned against the car for support: "Course I can! Git that cuss!"
When Skinny heard the robber shout the warning he wheeled and ran back, intently watching the windows and doors of the car for trouble.
"We 'll finish yore tally right here!" he muttered.
When he reached the smoker he turned and went towards the rear, where he found Lanky and Billy lying under the platform. Billy was looking back and guarding their rear, while his companion watched the clump of trees where the second herd of horses was known to be. Just as they were joined by their foreman, they saw two men run across the track, fifty yards distant, and into the grove, both going so rapidly as to give no chance for a shot at them.
"There they are!" shouted Skinny, opening fire on the grove.
At that instant Hopalong turned the rear platform and saw the brakeman leap out of the door with a Winchester in his hands. The puncher sprang up the steps, wrenched the rifle from its owner, and, tossing it to Skinny, cried: "Here, this is better!"
"Too late," grunted the puncher, looking up, but Hopalong had become lost to sight among the rocks along the right of way. "If I only had this a minute ago!" he grumbled.
The men in the grove, now in the saddle, turned and opened fire on the group by the train, driving them back to shelter. Skinny, taking advantage of the cover afforded, ran towards the grove, ordering his friends to spread out and surround it; but it was too late, for at that minute galloping was heard and it grew rapidly fainter.
Red appeared at the end of the train: "Where 's th' rest of the coyotes?"
"Two of 'em got away," Lanky replied.
"Ya-ho!" shouted Hopalong from the grove. "Don't none of you fools shoot! I 'm coming out. They plumb got away!"
"They near got you, Red," Skinny cried.
"Nears don't count," Red laughed.
"Did you ever notice Hopalong when he 's fighting mad?" asked Lanky, grinning at the man who was leaving the woods. "He allus wears his sombrero hanging on one ear. Look at it now!"
"Who touched off that cannon some time back?" asked Billy.
"I did. It was an anti-gravity cartridge what I found sizzling on a rod under th' floor of th' express car," replied Red.
"Why did n't you pinch out th' fuse 'stead of blowing everything up, you half-breed?" Lanky asked.
"I reckon I was some hasty," grinned Red.
"It blowed me under th' car an' my lid through a windy," cried Billy. "An' Skinny, he went up in th' air like a shore-'nough grasshopper."
Hopalong joined them, grinning broadly: "Hey, reckon ridin' in th' cars ain't so bad after all, is it?"
"Holy smoke!" cried Skinny. "What 's that a-popping?"
Hopalong, Colt in hand, leaped to the side of the train and looked along it, the others close behind him, and saw the fat man with his head and arm out of the window, blazing away into the air, which increased the panic in the coaches. Hopalong grinned and fired into the ground, and the fat man nearly dislocated parts of his anatomy by his hasty disappearance.
"Reckon he plumb forgot all about his fine, six-dollar gun till just now," Skinny laughed.
"Oh, he 's making good," Red replied. "He said he 'd take a hand if anything busted loose. It's a good thing he did n't come to life while me an' Hoppy was under his windy looking for laigs."
"Reckon some of us better go in th' cars an' quiet th' stampede," Skinny remarked, mounting the steps, followed by Hopalong. "They're shore loco."
The uproar in the coach ceased abruptly when the two punchers stepped through the door, the inmates shrinking into their seats, frightened into silence. Skinny and his companion did not make a reassuring sight, for they were grimy with burned powder and dust, and Hopalong's sleeve was stained with Red's blood.
"Oh, my jewels, my pretty jewels," sobbed a woman, staring at Skinny and wringing her hands.
"Ma'am, we shore don't want yore jewelry," replied Skinny, earnestly. "Ca'm yoreself; we don't want nothin'."
"I don't want that!" growled Hopalong, pushing a wallet from him. "How many times do you want us to tell you we don't want nothin'? We ain't robbers; we licked th' robbers."
Suddenly he stooped and, grasping a pair of legs which protruded into the aisle obstructing the passage, straightened up and backed towards Red, who had just entered the car, dragging into sight a portly gentleman, who kicked and struggled and squealed, as he grabbed at the stanchions of seats to stay his progress. Red stepped aside between two seats and let his friend pass, and then leaned over and grasped the portly gentleman's coat-collar. He tugged energetically and lifted the frightened man clear of the aisle and deposited him across the back of a seat, face down, where he hung balanced, yelling and kicking.
"Shut yore face, you cave-hunter!" cried Red in disgust. "Stop that infernal noise! You fat fellers make all yore noise after th' fighting is all over!"
The man on the seat, suddenly realizing what a sight he made, rolled off his perch and sat up, now more angry than frightened. He glared at Red's grinning face and sputtered:
"It 's an outrage! It 's an outrage! I 'll have you hung for this day's work, young man!"
"That 's right," grinned Hopalong. "He shore deserves it. I told him more 'n once that he 'd get strung up some day."
"Yes, and you, too!"
"Please don't," begged Hopalong. "I don't want t' die!"
Tense as the past quarter of an hour had been a titter ran along the car and, fuming impotently, the portly gentleman fled into the smoker.
"I 'll bet he had a six-dollar gun, too," laughed Red.
"I 'll bet he 's calling hisself names right about now," Hopalong replied. Then he turned to reply to a woman: "Yes, ma'am, we did. But they was n't real badmen."
At this a young woman, who was about as pretty as any young woman could be, arose and ran to Hopalong and, impulsively throwing her arms around his neck, cried: "You brave man! You hero! You dear!"
"Skinny! Red! Help!" cried the frightened and embarrassed puncher, struggling to get free.
She kissed him on the cheek, which flamed even more red as he made frantic efforts to keep his head back. "Ma'am!" he cried, desperately. "Leggo, ma'am! Leggo!"
"Oh! Ho! Ho!" roared Red, weak from his mirth and, not looking to see what he was doing, he dropped into a seat beside another woman. He was on his feet instantly; fearing that he would have to go through the ordeal his friend was going through, he fled down the aisle, closely followed by Hopalong, who by this time had managed to break away. Skinny backed off suspiciously and kept close watch on Hopalong's admirer.
Just then the brakeman entered the car, grinning, and Skinny asked about the condition of the conductor.
"Oh, he 's all right now," the brakeman replied. "They shot him through the arm, but he 's repaired and out bossin' the job of clearin' the rocks off the track. He 's a little shaky yet, but he 'll come around all right."
"That's good. I 'm shore glad to hear it."
"Won't you wear this pin as a small token of my gratitude?" asked a voice at Skinny's shoulder.
He wheeled and raised his sombrero, a flush stealing over his face:
"Thank you, ma'am, but I don't want no pay. We was plumb glad to do it."
"But this is not pay! It's just a trifling token of my appreciation of your courage, just something to remind you of it. I shall feel hurt if you refuse."
Her quick fingers had pinned it to his shirt while she spoke and he thanked her as well as his embarrassment would permit. Then there was a rush toward him and, having visions of a shirt looking like a jeweler's window, he turned and fled from the car, crying: "Pin 'em on th' brakeman!"
He found the outfit working at a pile of rocks on the track, under the supervision of the conductor, and Hopalong looked up apprehensively at Skinny's approach.
"Lord!" he ejaculated, grinning sheepishly, "I was some scairt you was a woman."
Red dropped the rock he was carrying and laughed derisively.
"Oh, yo 're a brave man, you are! scared to death by a purty female girl! If I 'd 'a' been you I would n't 'a' run, not a step!"
Hopalong looked at him witheringly: "Oh, no! You would n't 'a' run! You 'd dropped dead in your tracks, you would!"
"You was both of you a whole lot scared," Skinny laughed. Then, turning to the conductor: "How do you feel, Simms?"
"Oh, I 'm all right: but it took the starch out of me for awhile."
"Well, I don't wonder, not a bit."
"You fellows certainly don't waste any time getting busy," Simms laughed.
"That's the secret of gun-fightin'," replied Skinny.
"Well, you 're a fine crowd all right. Any time you want to go any place when you 're broke, climb aboard my train and I 'll see't you get there."
"Much obliged."
Simms turned to the express-car: "Hey, Jackson! You can open up now if you want to."
But the express-messenger was suspicious, fearing that the conductor was talking with a gun at his head: "You go to h—l!" he called back.
"Honest!" laughed Simms. "Some cowboy friends o' mine licked the gang. Did n't you hear that dynamite go off? If they had n't fished it out from under your feet you 'd be communing with the angels 'bout now."
For a moment there was no response, and then Jackson could be heard dragging things away from the door. When he was told of the cartridge and Red had been pointed out to him as the man who had saved his life, he leaped to the ground and ran to where that puncher was engaged in carrying the ever-silenced robbers to the baggage-car. He shook hands with Red, who laughed deprecatingly, and then turned and assisted him.
Hopalong came up and grinned: "Say, there 's some cayuses in that grove up th' track; shall I go up an' get 'em?"
"Shore! I 'll go an' get 'em with you," replied Skinny.
In the grove they found seven horses picketed, two of them being pack-animals, and they led them forth and reached the train as the others came up.
"Well, here 's five saddled cayuses, an' two others," Skinny grinned.
"Then we can ride th' rest of th' way in th' saddle instead of in that blamed train," Red eagerly suggested.
"That's just what we can do," replied Skinny. " Leather beats car-seats any time. How far are we from Sandy Creek, Simms?"
"About twenty miles."
"An' we can ride along th' track, too," suggested Hopalong.
"We shore can," laughed Skinny, shaking hands with the train-crew: "We 're some glad we rode with you this trip: we 've had a fine time."
"And we 're glad you did," Simms replied, "for that ain't no joke, either."
Hopalong and the others had mounted and were busy waving their sombreros and bowing to the heads and handkerchiefs which were decorating the car-windows.
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor, and cheers and good wishes rang out and were replied to by bows and waving of sombreros. Then Hopalong jerked his gun loose and emptied it into the air, his companions doing likewise. Suddenly five reports rang out from the smoker and they cheered the fat man as he waved at them. They sat quietly and watched the train until the last handkerchief became lost to sight around a curve, but the screeching whistle could be heard for a long time.
"Gee!" laughed Hopalong as they rode on after the train, "won't th' fellers home on th' ranch be a whole lot sore when they hears about the good time what they missed!"