usty revolver; we might see some
game going through the Pass," and Bob winked wisely at his "boyhood"
friend.

"Don't pull out until I get back," warned Jim, as he started on a trot
toward one of the rear Pullmans, called a "caboose" by the flippant Bob.

"'The General Denver' leaves in three minutes," called Ketchel after the
retreating Jim; "wouldn't wait a second for nobody." From the fact that
the locomotive was given the dignity of a real name indicates that the
time of our narrative belongs to an earlier and more ornate day than
this when even the biggest engine gets nothing more than a number.

At Ketchel's warning, Jim quickened his pace to a run, for he would not
have missed that ride on the "General Denver" for all the buried wealth
he and his brothers had once found on a treasure hunt in Old Mexico. I
wonder if an introduction to our old friend, Jim Darlington, is really
necessary. At least I am going through the formality. Jim, the leader of
"The Frontier Boys," whose adventures began on "The Overland Trail," and
were last spoken of in the narrative, "In The Saddle," is now on his way
to San Francisco in response to a message sent to him by the engineer of
his captured yacht, _The Sea Eagle_. He had been spending the Christmas
time at his home in Maysville, New York, where his brothers, Tom and Jo,
remained for the winter, much to their mother's joy, but to their own
deep regret, when they saw Jim starting out on a journey whose
adventures they could not share.

So much for the introduction, now to the narrative. Jim had no time to
spare and he could be very prompt when he had to, as all his old friends
can well remember. He swung into the black Pullman near the rear of the
long train, glided through the narrow alley way between the smoking-room
and the side of the car, just missing a head on collision with a stout
party coming out of the sleeper. The latter was about to express a
haughty indignation at Jim's abrupt approach, but that worthy gave him
no chance, as he dashed for section No. 9 at the end of the car. Here he
snatched from his valise his belt and revolver and fastened them with
rapid precision around his waist, and then with a heavy sweater in his
hand, he made a rapid exit from the car.

Already his three minutes were nearly up, and he had an exasperating
delay in the narrow passageway where a file of well-fed diners were
coming through. As Jim leaped from the platform the engine gave a
sh