. will win in this building race for Yellow
Creek, and--well, you see the point, I guess. What do you say?"

During the pause that followed Alex waited breathlessly, and with growing
disappointment. Was the oiler considering the bribe?

"Well," said the oiler at length, "is that your best offer? Couldn't you
make it a thousand?"

"A thousand! Nonsense--"

"Two thousand, then."

"What do you mean--"

"Just this!" cried the oiler, and simultaneously there was a rush of feet
and a sound of blows. Exultingly Alex was scrambling forth to go to the
oiler's assistance, when just above him was a crash of falling bodies,
and a figure bounded over the side of the car and rolled sprawling down
the embankment.

It was the plucky oiler, and Alex shrank back in horror as the man came
to a stop flat on his back, and lay immovable, blood trickling from a
wound over his eyes.

Overhead was the sound of someone getting to their feet. "He nearly got
you," said a voice.

"Nearly. But I guess I 'got him' one better."

"Is he safe for awhile, do you think?"

As the two men moved to the edge of the car and apparently gazed down at
the prostrate figure in the ditch, Alex shrank back with apprehension on
his own account.

"Perhaps we'd better make sure of him."

"All right. Here is a bit of rope."

Hurriedly Alex crawled beneath the nearby truck, behind the wheels, and a
tall figure in the garb of a cowboy dropped to the ground before him and
ran down to the still unconscious oiler. Binding the prostrate man's feet
together at the ankles, the cowman turned the oiler on his face, and
secured his hands behind his back. Turning him again face up, he studied
his eyes a moment, and announcing, "Good job. Only stunned," he returned
to the car and drew himself up on it.

"Now what'll we do?" inquired his companion. "That idiot has knocked our
plans to pieces. We can't go back and say we neither made the deal, nor
did anything else for our money."

"We'll have to tear things up ourselves," said the first man decisively.
"Let us see what we can do in the engine-room here."

The footsteps passed into the engine-house, and Alex at once crawled
forth, to make his way back to the velocipede.

As he emerged from beneath the car he paused to glance down at the
prostrate oiler. Should he leave him lying there? It did not seem right,
despite the obvious necessity of heading for the junction without a
moment's delay.

As he hesitated, t