night of his convalescence, P. Walton had a visitor--in
the person of Larry, the brains and leader of the gang. Larry did not
come inside the shack--he waited outside in the dark until P. Walton
went out to him.

"Hullo, Dook!" said Larry. "Tough luck, eh? Been sick? Gee, I'm glad
to see you! All to the mustard again? Couldn't get into town before,
but a fellow uptown said you'd been bad."

"Hello, Larry," returned P. Walton, and he shook the other's hand
cordially. "Glad to see you, too. Yes; I guess I'm all right--till
next time."

"Sure, you are!" said Larry heartily. "Anything good doing?"

"Well," said P. Walton, "I don't know whether you'd call it good or
not, but there was a new order went into effect yesterday to remain in
force until further notice--owing to the heavy passenger traffic. They
are taking the mail and express cars off the regular afternoon
east-bound trains, and running them as a through extra on fast time.
They figure to land the mails East quicker, and ease up on the
equipment of the regular trains so as to keep them a little nearer
schedule. So now the express stuff comes along on Extra No. 34, due
Spider Cut at eight-seventeen p. m., which is her last stop before Big
Cloud."

"Say," said Larry dubiously, "'taint going to be possible to board a
train like that casual-like, is it?" Then, brightening suddenly: "But
say, when you get to thinking about it, it don't size up so bad,
neither. I got the lay, Dook--I got it for fair--listen! Instead of a
train-load of passengers to handle there won't be no one after the
ditching but what's left of the train crew and the mail clerks; a
couple of us can stand the stamp lickers up easy, while the two others
pinches the swag. We'll stop her, all right! We ditch the train--see?
There's a peach of a place for it about seven miles up the line from
here. We tap the wires, Big Tom's some cheese at that, and then cuts
them as soon as we know the train has passed Spider Cut, and is wafting
its way toward us. Say, it's good, Dook, it's like a Christmas
present--I was near forgetting the registered mail."

P. Walton laughed--and coughed.

"I guess it's all right, Larry," he said. "According to a letter I saw
in the office this afternoon, there's a big shipment of banknotes that
some bank is remitting, and that will be on board night after next."

"Say that again," said Larry, sucking in his breath quickly. "I ain't
deaf, but I'd like t