express and mail.
Am alone here. No chance to verify story, but believe it to
be on square. Better make arrangements from your end to
block game. No Sheriff here now. Answer."_

The superintendent, responding to the hasty summons, heard the message
before the clerk had time to write it out. His lips were closely
compressed as he put his own hand on the key and sent these laconic
sentences: "_O. K. Keep perfectly dark. Will manage from this end_."

Watkins, at Barker's, rose from his seat, opened the door a little way,
saw that the station was empty, and then said to the girl, brusquely,
but kindly:

"Sally, you've done the square thing, and saved that train. I'll take
care that you don't suffer and that you get well paid. Now come home
with me, and my wife will look out for you."

"Oh! no," cried the girl, shrinking back, "I must run away. You're
mighty kind, but I daren't go with you." Detecting a shade of doubt in
his eye, she added: "Don't be afeared; I'll die before they'll know I've
given them away to you!" and she disappeared in the darkness.

At the other end of the wire, the superintendent had quietly impressed
secrecy on his operator and clerk, ordered his fast mare harnessed, and
gone to his private office.

"Read that!" said he to his secretary. "It was about time for some
trouble of this kind, and now I'm going to let Uncle Sam take care of
his mails. If I don't get to the reservation before the General's turned
in, I shall have to wake him up. Wait for me, please."

The gray mare made the six miles to the military reservation in just
half an hour. The General was smoking his last cigar, and was alert in
an instant; and before the superintendent had finished the jorum of
"hot Scotch" hospitably tendered, the orders had gone by wire to the
commanding officer at Fort ------, some distance east of Barker's, and
been duly acknowledged.

Returning to the station, the superintendent remarked to the waiting
secretary:

"The General's all right. Of course we can't tell that this is not a
sell; but if those Perry hounds mean business they'll get all the fight
they want--and if they've got any souls--which I doubt--may the Lord
have mercy on them!"

He prepared several despatches, two of which were as follows:

Mr. Henry Sinclair: "On No. 17, Pawnee Junction: This
telegram your authority to take charge of train on which you
are, and demand obedience of all officials and tr