_Crash!_" went the Winchesters, "_Crack, crack, crack!_" the pistols.

Two of the leading runners went to their hands and knees. The others
rushed on, shouting and spitting flames.

Keeping well under cover, the boys fired as quickly as they could work
their weapons. Wilson felt a stinging snip at his right ear, and a warm
stream trickling down his neck. He emptied the first pistol, and began
with the second.

"_Crash! Crash!_" roared the Winchesters.

The attackers held on. They had made half the distance. In spite of
themselves, the boys began firing nervously.

Closer the running figures came.

Jack snapped back his reloading mechanism, and pulled the trigger. There
was no report.

His cry of consternation was echoed by Alex.

They had fired their last shots!

With a wild shout of triumph two of their assailants were upon them.

* * * * *

From a clear patch of sky bright moonlight flooded the construction-train
and the gray slope of the hill to the southeast about which the rails had
crept that day. Grouped on the rear steps of the store-car, Superintendent
Finnan and several of his foremen sat and smoked, and listened.

"Yes; it's a horse," said one of the foremen.

"Two horses," declared the superintendent. "And coming as though Old Nick
were after them."

Over the moonlit rise swept a figure on horseback, then another.

On discovering the group at the car, the leader uttered a shrill whoop,
and tore down the slope toward them.

"The first is Little Hawk! The other is a prisoner! What's wrong?" cried
the superintendent, springing to the ground.

The Indian pulled up in a cloud of dust before him, and threw himself
from his reeking pony.

"Want burnum bridge," he said, indicating his prisoner. "Five, ten, more!
Much more! Three boy--tick-knock boy--fightem!

"Hear? Hear?"

He placed his hand to his ear.

The incredulous group turned to the east and listened.

As from infinitely far away, half heard, half felt, came a low, deadened
"Plugk!... Plugk, plugk!... Plugk!"

A moment the startled railroadmen stared at one another. Then quickly the
superintendent spoke.

"Ryan, rout out the engineer and firemen! The rest of you run for your
guns, and a dozen good men from your gangs! Don't lose a minute!"

[Illustration: THE INDIAN PULLED UP IN A CLOUD OF DUST.]

The group scattered with a rush. Fifteen minutes later, with men filling
her cab and c