in singly. There they purchased a few provisions.
Then they separated and rode singly out of town, to rendezvous at a
certain point on the Miembres River.

The point of attack chosen was the little station of Gage (tended by a
lone operator), on the Southern Pacific Railway west of Deming, a point
then reached by the west-bound express at twilight. The evening of the
second day after leaving the Gila, Kit and his three compadres rode into
Gage. One or two significant passes with a six-shooter hypnotized the
station agent into a docile tool. A dim red light glimmered away off in
the east. As the minutes passed, it grew and brightened fast. Then a
faint, confused murmur came singing over the rails to the ears of the
waiting bandits. The light brightened and grew until it looked like a
great dull red sun, and then the thunder of the train was heard.

Time for action had come!

The agent was made to signal the engineer to stop. With lever reversed
and air brakes on, the train was nearly stopped when the engine reached
the station. But seeing the agent surrounded by a group of armed men,
the engineer shut off the air and sought to throw his throttle open. His
purpose discovered, a quick snapshot from Mitch Lee laid him dead, and,
springing into the cab, Mitch soon persuaded the fireman to stop the
train.

Instantly a fusillade of pistol shots and a mad chorus of shrill cowboy
yells broke out, that terrorized train crew and passengers into docility.

Within fifteen minutes the express car was sacked, the postal car gutted,
the passengers were laid under unwilling contribution, and Kit and his
pals were riding northward into the night, heavily loaded with loot.
Riding at great speed due north, the party soon reached the main
travelled road up the Miembres, in whose loose drifting sands they knew
their trail could not be picked up. Still forcing the pace, they reached
the rough hill-country east of Silver early in the night, _cached_ their
plunder safely, and a little after midnight were carelessly bucking a
monte game in a Silver City saloon. The next afternoon they quietly rode
out of town and joined their respective outfits, to wait until the
excitement should blow over.

Of course the telegraph soon started the hue and cry. Officers from
Silver, Deming, and Lordsburg were soon on the ground, led by Harvey
Whitehill, the famous old sheriff of Grant County. But of clue there was
none. Naturally the stati