"Here she is," the foreman said, unstrapping a small axe from behind his saddle.
"No need for that, Bill," Dan said. "That windfall will serve our purpose."
A rope was tied to the prostrate tree, and one of the horses dragged it to the side of the line. The three men then lifted and laid it across the rails.
"They'll have to get down to shift her," Sudden said. "Yu'll take charge o' them, Bill, while I deal with the passengers, an' Dan attends to the baggage-car. We'll spread along, keepin' in the bushes till the train stops. No shootin', 'less yu have to, an' then--miss."
The horses were concealed in a group behind the brush, and tied, in case the noise of the locomotive should startle them. Burke consulted his watch again.
"She's liable to be here any time now," he said. "Better pull down the blinds an' git to our stations."
With faces masked by bandanas in which eye-holes had been cut, and hat-brims drawn low down, they looked at one another and laughed.
"Shore does make a difference," Sudden admitted. "I wouldn't trust either o' yu with ten cents."
"Funny what a sense o' security that bit o' rag gives you," Dover reflected aloud. "I was feelin' a mite nervous about the job, but it's all gone."
"Me, I'll be glad when it's over," the foreman confessed. "Our intentions is good, but we're bustin' the law all to bits."
A puff of smoke down the line sent them under cover; the train was coming. Laboriously it approached, rumbling along the rails, belching white clouds, and then, with a screeching of brakes, slowed and stopped. The driver thrust his head out of the cab and stared at the obstruction.
"Hey, Luke, there's a blame' tree in the road," he called. "We'll hey to git down an' shift her."
Clumsily the two men clambered out and moved to the front of the engine. At the same moment, a masked figure stepped from the bushes and, in a gruff voice, said:
"Put 'em up, boys, an' you won't git hurt."
A levelled revolver, held in a steady hand, added weight to the command, and the railwaymen had no thought of disobeying. As their hands reached for the sky, the driver spoke:
"The pot's yourn, Mister. I'm too wicked to die--yet."
The train-robber grinned beneath his mask but made no reply. He had done his part, and was wondering how his friends were faring. Actually, they had picked their places to a nicety. The conductor, thrusting out his head to discover the reason for an unusual halt, nearly collided with the muzzle of a six-shooter.
"Shut yore trap an' do just what I tell yu, or ." The threatening gesture was unnecessary--the conductor's pay did not justify heroism. He fell back, and allowed the possessor of the weapon to board the train. The man handed him a small leather sack.
"Collect all the cash an' valuables in the coach, startin' with yore own," he was told. "I'm just behind yu, an' if there's any funny business, yu won't be here to laugh. Sabe?"
Evidently the conductor did, for he emptied his pockets with alacrity, and then entered the coach. There were only half-a-dozen passengers, and every one of them protested, but the sight of the sinister figure stalking behind him silenced all argument. But, as Sudden afterwards related, "What they were to do to the railroad company would--put it outa busi ness."
When the ordeal was completed, and it did not take long, the bandit took the bag, stepped to the end of the coach, and ,addressed his victims:
"Listen, folks. When yu reach Sandy Bend, go to the bank ,n' yu'll get back yore property. This ain't a real stick-up we're doin' it to win a wager, but--don't try no tricks, 'cause that'll make it serious." As he descended from the train, he motioned the conductor to follow. "I've told those people the truth, but I'm keepin' yu covered till my friend has finished."
A moment. later Dan appeared, a corded, wooden box under one arm. He had experienced no difficulty--the baggage-man also was too sinful, or poorly-paid, to risk his life. Moreover, he had no knowledge as to the value of the purloined box, which, with some sacks of flour, comprised all his charge. So, white-faced, he watched the marauders vanish into the undergrowth. After all, the banker at Sandy Bend could afford to buy more gun-fodder, for the box--addressed to him--was labelled, "Handle with care. Cartridges."
Sudden read the inscription and laughed grimly. "Golden bullets, but they won't be fired at the Circle Dot. Well, boys, we've done fine, but the job ain't finished; I've gotta get the plunder to the Bend an' beat the train. I reckon Nigger an' me can make it. Yu two point for home." They demurred a little at this, but he would not listen. "We settled it thataway,"'he reminded. "I ain't knowed there an' yu are."
Rolled in his slicker, the box and leather bag were roped to his saddle, and just as the engine-driver and his mate pushed the obstruction clear of the line, he set out.
The train resumed its interrupted journey, the occupants excitedly discussing the incident, and speculating on the possibility of recovering what they had lost. The conductor was disposed to a sanguine view.
"No sense in tellin' us that if it ain't so," he said. "We couldn't do nothin', an' it's just the sort o' mad caper them cowboys would indulge in on a dare. Anybody out much?"
"My wallet contains two hundred dollars I'll be glad to see again," a passenger replied.
Smaller amounts of currency, rings, and watches were claimed by the rest, and when the conductor stated that the baggage-car contained only sacks of meal and a box of cartridges, an atmosphere of optimism developed.
"If they're winning a worth-while sum--and they must be to risk a long term of imprisonment--they'll play safe and return the booty," the largest loser argued. "We'll know soon."
But their troubles were not yet over, for after travelling another five miles, the train slowed down and stopped with a jerk. The conductor stuck his head out--cautiously this time, and promptly drew it in again.
"Damn me if there ain't another tree on the line," he said. "What's the game? We got nothin' more for 'em."
The bewildered passengers heard a sharp order, accented by a rifle-shot, which brought the two men on the engine tumbling hastily to the ground, hands in the air. The tall, heavily-built cowboy who had given it slanted his smoking weapon on them, and said warningly:
"Stay put if you want to go on living."
Stealing a glance back along the line they could see that the previous procedure was again in operation; two other men, masked and with drawn pistols, had boarded the train. In vain the conductor--who at once realized that these were not the same visitors--tried to explain.
"Yo're too late, Mister, them other fellas has beat you to it; we're cleaned complete."
The bandit pushed the gun in his face. "What other fellas?" he barked. "Talk fast, or by the Devil's teeth ..."
The trembling man talked fast, and called upon his passengers to support his story by an ocular demonstration--their empty pockets. The recital did not improve the intruder's temper.
"Can you describe 'em?" he asked.
The conductor's reply was hardly helpful. "They was cowboys seemin'ly, with their faces covered. Said they on'y did it to win a bet, an' we'd git our stuff back at the Bend."
The stranger laughed sneeringly. "An' on the strength of a lie like that you let 'em git away with it, you lousy cowards." He backed out of the coach, with a parting threat that anyone who stirred would be shot.
In the meantime the custodian of the baggage-car was telling the same story with less success. Bundy, who had allotted to himself the task of securing the real reason for the robbery, was not easily convinced. He, too, wanted a description of the unknown hold-ups, and got no more than his confederate. Then he searched every inch of the van, even tapping the boards with the butt of his gun.
"What's in them?" he growled, pointing to the sacks. "Meal, I s'pose," the man replied.