when needed to convince, the card he had been so
sagacious as to retain, the card that proclaimed him a friend of the
powers and a person to be considered. Moreover, the friend and person
had suggested a means by which actual surrender to the situation might
appear as virtual and moral victory. One more look at Shiner and then
Shiner settled it. "I submit to arrest, Mr. Cullin. Let me go with
you--and settle."

"Get aboard the caboose," was the gruff answer, and, all apparent
meekness, Shiner obeyed. "Not you," added Cullin, as Shiner's
saddle-bag-bearing friend would have followed. "Give me the bags," said
Shiner, "and you look to--" A significant glance at the signal told the
rest. Cullin followed it with his eyes, saw the arm still lowered to
the "stop," knew that it should not be left there, and for a moment
held back.

"_He_'ll fix it," said Shiner, from the platform of the caboose, while
his eyes sought the face of the tall young fellow at Cullin's back.
Cullin strode to the corner of the office and followed the ranchman
with curious eyes. That sun-tanned, bow-legged person straddled down
the back steps, his big spurs jingling, a high boot-heel catching on
next to the lowermost and pitching him forward. He clamped his
broadbrim on his head with one hand and steadied his holster with the
other, straightened up with half-stifled expletive, and the next minute
was swarming up the slender iron rungs of the signal-ladder. "He's got
to prop it up where it belongs," said the sergeant. "Reckon he must
have shot the wire that held it." And of a truth the wire was severed.
But when Cullin turned back to his train with the mystery cleared, the
sight and sound of new commotion blocked his own signal to start.

Two horsemen, on foam-spattered broncos, were spurring vehemently down
the road from the eastward ridge. Two others were trailing exhaustedly
two hundred lengths behind, only just feebly popping over the divide.
And to these persons both his prisoner and his prisoner's advocate, who
were clasping hands as he whirled and saw them, were now signalling
cheer and encouragement. Ten cars ahead, at the cab, Big Ben and
Toomey, too, were leaning far out and eagerly watching the chase; the
sergeant and his men, wondering much at the sight, but professionally
impassive, strode to the end of the platform for better view, then all
of a sudden began to shout and swing their caps, and before Cullin
could recover from his surprise