comfortable manner possible. He pulled his hat over his
forehead, and continued his perusal of the newspaper.

This did not satisfy his seat mate.

"You seem to be very interested in that paper," said Walker.

"I am," was the curt return, and the boy continued reading.

"You are not much of a talker."

"You are."

"H'm! Ha! I am; I am very sociable."

"So I observed."

"I have been wondering what we would do if a band of robbers was to hold
up this train."

"I am sure I cannot tell what I would do. I scarcely think any person
can tell what he would do in such a case till he meets the emergency."

"I presume you go armed?"

"In the West--yes."

Walker's thin nose seemed to resemble a wedge which he was driving
deeper and deeper with each question.

"Would you mind permitting me to look at your revolver?"

"Yes."

The boy uttered that word, and remained silent, without offering to take
the weapon out.

Walker coughed.

"H'm! Ha! I think you misunderstood me."

"I think not."

"I asked you if you would mind letting me look at your revolver."

"And I said I would mind."

"Oh!"

The Jew's voice sounded in Walker's ear.

"I haf a revolfer vat I vill sell you sheep. Id vas a recular taisy,
selluf-cocker, und dirty-dwo caliber. Here id vas, meester. Id vas
loated, so handle id vid care. Vat you gif vor dat peautiful revolfer,
meester?"

Walker took the weapon, glanced into the cylinder, to see that it was
actually loaded, and then suddenly thrust it against the head of Frank,
crying, sharply:

"Hands up, Black Harry! You are my prisoner!"

CHAPTER III.

A THRILLING ACCUSATION.

The words rang through the car, startling the passengers, and causing
them to stare in astonishment at the man and the boy.

The man with the revolver was quivering with excitement, while Frank, at
whose head the weapon was held, seemed strangely calm.

Exclamations were heard on all sides.

"Black Harry!"

"Is it possible?"

"Not that beardless boy!"

"It's a mistake!"

"If that's Black Harry, his Braves are near, and there is liable to be
some shooting before long."

"Sufferin' Moses!" came from the Jew, who owned the revolver. "Ish dat
der ropper vat ve read apout der baper in? Stop der cars! I vant to ged
off!"

"What do you mean by this crazy act?" calmly demanded Frank, looking
straight into Mr. Walker's eyes.

"I mean business, and I am not going to fool with a fellow of your
reputati