Junction."

To the Station Agent:

"Reported Perry gang will try wreck and rob No. 17 near--xth
mile-post. Denver Division, about nine Thursday night
Troops will await train at Fort----. Car ordered ready for
them. Keep everything secret, and act in accordance with
orders of Mr. Sinclair."

"It's worth about ten thousand dollars," sententiously remarked he,
"that Sinclair's on that train. He's got both sand and brains.
Good-night," and he went to bed and slept the sleep of the just.

III.

The sun never shone more brightly and the air was never more clear and
bracing than when Sinclair helped his wife off the train at Pawnee
Junction. The station-master's face fell as he saw the lady, but he
saluted the engineer with as easy an air as he could assume, and watched
for an opportunity to speak to him alone. Sinclair read the despatches
with an unmoved countenance, and after a few minutes' reflection simply
said: "All right. Be sure to keep the matter perfectly quiet." At
breakfast he was _distrait_--so much so that his wife asked him what was
the matter. Taking her aside, he at once showed her the telegrams.

"You see my duty," he said. "My only thought is about you, my dear
child. Will you stay here?"

She simply replied, looking into his face without a tremor:

"My place is with you." Then the conductor called "All aboard," and the
train once more started.

Sinclair asked Foster to join him in the smoking-compartment and tell
him the promised story, which the latter did. His rescue at Barker's, he
frankly and gratefully said, _had_ been the turning point in his life.
In brief, he had "sworn-off" from gambling and drinking, had found
honest employment, and was doing well.

"I've two things to do now, Major," he added; "first, I must show my
gratitude, to you; and next--" he hesitated a little--"I want to find
that poor girl that I left behind at Barker's. She was engaged to marry
me, and when I came to think of it, and what a life I'd have made her
lead, I hadn't the heart till now to look for her; but, seeing I'm on
the right track, I'm going to find her, and get her to come with me. Her
father's a--old scoundrel, but that ain't her fault, and I ain't going
to marry _him_."

"Foster," quietly asked Sinclair, "do you know the Perry gang?"

The man's brow darkened.

"Know them?" said he. "I know them much too well. Perry is as ungodly a
cutthroat as ever killed an emigrant in cold bloo