been pulled around the turn," continued the brakeman, not heeding the interruption, "we found a wreck. And we found the engineer and fireman standin' over the express-messenger, too scared to know he would n't come back no more. The car had been blowed up with dynamite, and his fighting soul went with it. He never knowed he was licked."
"An' nobody tried to help him!" Hopalong exclaimed, wrathfully now.
"Nobody wanted to die with him," replied the brakeman.
"Well," cried the fat man, suddenly reaching for his valise, "I 'd like to see anybody try to hold me up!" Saying which he brought forth a small revolver.
"You 'd be praying out of your bald spot about that time," muttered the brakeman.
Hopalong and Red turned, perceived the weapon, and then exchanged winks.
"That's a fine shootin'-iron, stranger," gravely remarked Hopalong.
