one.

* * * * *

"My golly," O'Toole breathed. "They all look alike. What you suppose
they'll do with us? Must be forty or fifty people on this set of cars."
Blake turned away from the window.

"If the train were wrecked," he said in a matter of fact voice, "they'd
take everything off it and leave it here. With passengers on board, they
have to remove the baggage and movable parts. After that...."

"After that, we'll all go to hell the fastest way," O'Toole said with
grim lips. "Let's get something started. I can't sit still until they
decide what to do with us."

"If I'm not mistaken," Blake said grimly, "they have us all disposed of
well in advance. You mentioned just one thing that may help us out."

"If I did," O'Toole admitted, "It was just crazy luck."

"They all look alike." Blake stood up, studied O'Toole carefully, and
said. "We're going to join the gang of the Silver Masks."

O'Toole grinned.

"Just like that," he said dryly. "And this guy Harror is going to shake
our hands and say, 'Glad to see you're with us, boys.'"

Blake was already out of the smoking lounge. He went toward the end of
the car with a swift, determined stride. Ferrell and Dauna had been at
the window and as he approached the door leading outside, they turned.

"Hold it, Jeff," Ferrell said. "You're going to do something foolish and
I won't have it."

"We've already got ourselves into a pretty foolish mess," Blake reminded
him almost bitterly. "If I can do any good by trying, I don't want you
to interfere. It may be too late."

Dauna barred his way to the door. Her face was drawn and bloodless.

"You're going to face that giant, Harror," she pleaded haltingly. "Jeff,
please...?"

He took her hands in his, and smiled down at her.

"Wade wouldn't want you to put on a scene," he said gently. "I'm in this
thing up to my neck. Wade's name and my own are both involved."

She hesitated and stepped away from him. Her arms dropped hopelessly.

O'Toole reached the door with Blake.

"What are the plans," he asked? "I'm in on them remember."

"Then start howling at the top of your lungs," Blake grinned. "Call
Harror every name you ever heard of, but remember there are women in the
car. We're going to get dragged out of here and have a talk with that
freak."

O'Toole nodded.

"Okay!" he said. "I get the idea. If we can be bad boys, maybe Harror
will spank us himself."

"He'll try," Blake answere