ew Sky-Scraper, the 509.

But nobody paid much attention to all this. The mob had swarmed around
the ratty, old, blind-eyed baggage-car which, with an ordinary way-car,
constituted the McWilliams Special.

"Now what does a man with McWilliams's money want to travel special in
an old photograph-gallery like that for?" asked Andy Cameron, who was
the least bit huffed because he hadn't been marked up for the run
himself. "You better take him in a cup of hot coffee, Sinkers,"
suggested Andy to the lunch-counter boy. "You might get a ten-dollar
bill if the old man isn't feeling too badly. What do you hear from
Denver, Neighbor?" he asked, turning to the superintendent of motive
power. "Is the boy holding out?"

"I'm not worrying about the boy holding out; it's whether the Five-Nine
will hold out."

"Aren't you going to change engines and crews at Arickaree?"

"Not to-day," said Neighbor, grimly; "we haven't time."

Just then Sinkers rushed at the baggage-car with a cup of hot coffee for
Mr. McWilliams. Everybody, hoping to get a peep at the capitalist, made
way. Sinkers climbed over the train chests which were lashed to the
platforms and pounded on the door. He pounded hard, for he hoped and
believed that there was something in it. But he might have pounded till
his coffee froze for all the impression it made on the sleepy
McWilliams.

"Hasn't the man trouble enough without tackling your chiccory?" sang out
Felix Kennedy, and the laugh so discouraged Sinkers that he gave over
and sneaked away.

At that moment the editor of the local paper came around the depot
corner on the run. He was out for an interview, and, as usual, just a
trifle late. However, he insisted on boarding the baggage-car to tender
his sympathy to McWilliams.

The barricades bothered him, but he mounted them all, and began an
emergency pound on the forbidding blind door. Imagine his feelings when
the door was gently opened by a sad-eyed man, who opened the ball by
shoving a rifle as big as a pinch-bar under the editorial nose.

"My grief, Mr. McWilliams," protested the interviewer, in a trembling
voice, "don't imagine I want to hold you up. Our citizens are all
peaceable--"

"Get out!"

"Why, man, I'm not even asking for a subscription; I simply want to
ten--"

"Get out!" snapped the man with the gun; and in a foam the newsman
climbed down. A curious crowd gathered close to hear an editorial
version of the ten commandments revised on the s