uld have time enough, though none to waste.

The hours could not be counted, but perhaps three had passed, and
through the scented, velvety darkness there came a touch of gray in the
east, which changed to pink, then to opal, as the coming sun tinged the
low-lying clouds. The animal and bird life began to stir, preparing to
greet the beauty of the dawn, or rather, to start on their affairs of
the day, for it is likely that the denizens of the prairie had as little
thought for the glory of the sunrise as had Injun and Whitey, whose
minds were firmly fixed on train robbers.

When the light was full, the boys drew up, and looked off toward the
southwest. Whitey had been depending on Injun's never-failing sense of
direction to carry them aright. This ability to point toward any point
of the compass, in the dark, was one of Injun's gifts--though he didn't
know what a compass was. And sure enough, away off there against the
gray of the clouds was a line of high, tiny crosses, telegraph poles,
near which stretched the tracks of the road.

When he saw them, Whitey could not resist a whoop of joy. "If we ride
straight for them, how far do you think we'll be from the water tank?"
he asked.

"Mebbe one mile, mebbe two," replied Injun, who seldom committed himself
to an exact answer.

"That's all right, come on!" cried Whitey, and they galloped straight
for the railroad.

When they reached the tracks, they dismounted and tied their ponies to
neighboring telegraph poles, fearing the effect the noise of the train
would have on the spirited animals. Then the boys went to the roadbed to
await the coming of the train. The line stretched straight toward the
west, until the rails seemed to join in the distance. But toward the
east was a curve as the road approached a gully, at the bottom of which
was a creek. It was from this creek that the water was drawn for the
tank.

The sunrise had seemed to promise a fair day, but the promise failed,
for a mist was forming over the plains. The train was not in sight, and
Whitey kneeled, and placed an ear to the track, knowing that he could
detect the vibration caused by the train before it appeared.

He rose and nodded his head. "I hear it," he said. For once Whitey had
it on Injun. He knew about railroads and Injun didn't.

"Light the lantern," said Whitey. Then he began to laugh.

Injun gazed at the lantern, then at Whitey. He could see no cause for
laughter.

"I was wise when I sugg