to explain that he had talked to make the outlaws talk, and that he had
noted the quality of their voices so carefully that he would know them
again among a thousand. Also he had observed--other things--the garb
of each of the men he had seen, their weapons, their manner, and their
individual peculiarities.

The clanking car took up the rhythm of the rails as the delayed train
plunged forward once more into the night. Again the clack of tongues,
set free from fear, buzzed eagerly. The glow of the afterclap of danger
was on them, and in the warm excitement each forgot the paralyzing fear
that had but now padlocked his lips. Courage came flowing back into
flabby cheeks and red blood into hearts of water.

At the next station the Limited stopped, and the conductor swung from
a car before the wheels had ceased rolling and went running into the
telegraph office.

"Fire a message through for me, Pat. The Limited has been held up," he
announced.

"Held up?" gasped the operator.

"That's right. Get this message right through to Sabin. I'm not going
to wait for an answer. Tell him I'll stop at Apache for further
instructions."

With which the conductor was out again waving his lantern as a signal
for the train to start. Sheriff Collins and Major Mackenzie had entered
the office at his heels. They too had messages to send, but it was not
until the train was already plunging into the night that the station
agent read the yellow slips they had left and observed that both of them
went to the same person.

"Lieutenant Bucky O'Connor, Douglas, Arizona," was the address he read
at the top of each. His comment serves to show the opinion generally in
the sunburned territory respecting one of its citizens.

"You're wise guys, gents, both of yez. This is shure a case for the
leftenant. It's send for Bucky quick when the band begins to play," he
grinned.

Sitting down, he gave the call for Tucson, preparatory to transmitting
the conductor's message to the division superintendent. His fingers were
just striking the first tap when a silken voice startled him.

"One moment, friend. No use being in a hurry."

The agent looked up and nearly fell from his stool. He was gazing
into the end of a revolver held carelessly in the hand of a masked man
leaning indolently on the counter.

"Whe--where did you come from?" the operator gasped.

"Kaintucky, but I been here a right smart spell. Why? You takin' the
census?" came the drawling