king as they
mounted. "It was robbery," he said--and they set off at a canter, side
by side. "There was two hundred thousand in currency in the express car,
and it's gone. I found their trail this morning, going into the North.
They're hitting for what we call the Bad Lands over beyond the Coyote,
twenty miles from here. I don't suppose there's any time to lose--"

"No," said Philip. "How many are there?"

"Four--mebby more."

Billinger started his horse into a gallop and Philip purposely held
his mount behind to look at the other man. The first law of MacGregor's
teaching was to study men, and to suspect.

It was the first law of the splendid service of which he was a part--and
so he looked hard at Billinger. The Englishman was hatless. His sandy
hair was cropped short, and his mustaches floated out like flexible
horns from the sides of his face. His shirt was in tatters. In one place
it was ripped clean of the shoulder and Philip saw a purplish bruise
where the flesh was bare. He knew these for the marks of Billinger's
presence at the wreck. Now the man was equipped for other business.
A huge "forty-four" hung at his waist, a short carbine swung at his
saddle-bow; and there was something in the manner of his riding, in the
hunch of his shoulders, and in the vicious sweep of his long mustaches,
that satisfied Philip he was a man who could use them. He rode up
alongside of him with a new confidence. They were coming to the top of a
knoll; at the summit Billinger stopped and pointed down into a hollow a
quarter of a mile away.

"It will be a loss of time to go down there," he said, "and it will do
no good. See that thing that looks like a big log in the river?
That's the top of the day coach. It went in right side up, and the
conductor--who wasn't hurt--says there were twenty people in it. We
watched it settle from the shore, and we couldn't do a thing--while they
were dying in there like so many caged rats! The other coach burned, and
that heap of stuff you see there is what's left of the Pullman and the
baggage car. There's twenty-seven dead stretched out along the track,
and a good many hurt. Great Heavens, listen to that!"

He shuddered, and Philip shuddered, at the wailing sound of grief and
pain that came up to them.

"It'll be a loss of time--to go down," repeated the agent.

"Yes, it would be a loss of time," agreed Philip.

His blood was burning at fever heat when he raised his eyes from the
scene bel