deeper, louder note. The station-agent took his
place on the track.

Now the train bulked big, the engine wavering slightly to the
unevenness of the road bed. The flag of the station-agent moved. Kate
closed her eyes and set her teeth. There was a rumbling and puffing
and a mighty grinding--a shout somewhere--the rattle of a score of
pistol shots--she opened her eyes to see the train rolling to a stop
on the siding directly before her.

Kilduff and Shorty Rhinehart, crouching against the grade, were
splintering the windows one by one with nicely placed shots. The
baggage-cars were farther up the siding than Silent calculated. He and
Haines now ran towards the head of the train.

The fireman and engineer jumped from their cab, holding their arms
stiffly above their heads; and Haines approached with poised revolver
to make them flood the fire box. In this way the train would be
delayed for some time and before it could send out the alarm the
bandits would be far from pursuit. Haines had already reached the
locomotive and Silent was running towards the first baggage-car when
the door of that car slid open and at the entrance appeared two men
with rifles at their shoulders. As they opened fire Silent pitched to
the ground. Kate set her teeth and forced her eyes to stay open.

Even as the outlaw fell his revolver spoke and one of the men threw up
his hands with a yell and pitched out of the open door. His companion
still kept his post, pumping shots at the prone figure. Twice more the
muzzle of Silent's gun jerked up and the second man crumpled on the
floor of the car.

A great hissing and a jetting cloud of steam announced that Haines
had succeeded in flooding the fire box. Silent climbed into the first
baggage-car, stepping, as he did so, on the limp body of the Wells
Fargo agent, who lay on the road bed. A moment later he flung out the
body of the second messenger. The man flopped on the ground heavily,
face downwards, and then--greatest horror of all!--dragged himself
to his hands and knees and began to crawl laboriously. Kate ran and
dropped to her knees beside him.

"Are you hurt badly?" she pleaded. "Where? Where?"

He sagged to the ground and lay on his left side, breathing heavily.

"Where is the wound?" she repeated.

He attempted to speak, but only a bloody froth came to his lips. That
was sufficient to tell her that he had been shot through the lungs.

She tore open his shirt and found two purple spo