er stop to take water.

Few, if any, of these recognized Kerr as Lambert hurried him across the
platform and into the station, his hands manacled at his back. Kerr held
back for one quick look up and down the station platform, then stumbled
hastily ahead under the force of Lambert's hand. The door of the
telegraph office stood open; Lambert pushed his prisoner within and
closed it.

The station agent came in as the train pulled away, and Lambert made
inquiry of him concerning the sheriff. The agent had not seen him there
that day. He turned away with sullen countenance, looking with disfavor
on this intrusion upon his sacred precincts. He stood in front of his
chattering instruments in the bow window, looking up and down the
platform with anxious face out of which his natural human color had
gone, leaving even his lips white.

"You don't have to keep him in here, I guess, do you?" he said, still
sweeping the platform up and down with his uneasy eyes.

"No. I just stepped in to ask you to put this satchel in your safe and
keep it for me a while."

Lambert's calm and confident manner seemed to assure the agent, and
mollify him, and repair his injured dignity. He beckoned with a jerk of
his head, not for one moment quitting his leaning, watchful pose, or
taking his eyes from their watch on the platform. Lambert crossed the
little room in two strides and looked out. Not seeing anything more
alarming than a knot of townsmen around the postmaster, who stood with
the lean mail sack across his shoulder, talking excitedly, he inquired
what was up.

"They're layin' for you out there," the agent whispered.

"I kind of expected they would be," Lambert told him.

"They're liable to cut loose any minute," said the agent, "and I tell
you, Duke, I've got a wife and children dependin' on me!"

"I'll take him outside. I didn't intend to stay here only a minute.
Here, lock this up. It belongs to Vesta Philbrook. If I have to go with
the sheriff, or anything, send her word it's here."

As Lambert appeared in the door with his prisoner the little bunch of
excited gossips scattered hurriedly. He stood near the door a little
while, considering the situation. The station agent was not to blame for
his desire to preserve his valuable services for the railroad and his
family; Lambert had no wish to shelter himself and retain his hold on
the prisoner at the trembling fellow's peril.

It was unaccountable that the sheriff was not ther