cried to the first person I met; and receiving the directions, sped on through the mud until the end of the long platform was reached. With awful distinctness I heard the clear whistle of an incoming locomotive, and heard the clanging of the bell. It was the express sliding into the station. I fairly tumbled from my, bicycle and lumbered forward as the long train slowed up. The engineer was looking back from his seat in the cab, as I came closer and called to him:
"'For heaven's sake, don't go ahead yet!' I gasped. 'You'll be wrecked if you do.'
"'What's that?' he cried, and as I repeated my words he leaped down and caught me by the arm. I was soon surrounded by a crowd, consisting of the engineer, fireman, conductor and half a dozen of the train and station hands. Everyone listened to my story with close attention.
"'Hank Shorer means to keep his word,' said the engineer. 'He vowed four years ago to do me and the express. Where's the head constable?'
"The officer was not at hand, but soon a posse of men from town were marshalled together under the leadership of the conductor, a man of fifty, with an iron will and, so I was told by an outsider, one who could shoot as straight as anybody in the country.
