little nerve, that's all, but
we'll soon have those robbers just where we want them," said Andrew
Gregory.

The second act of the play was fairly well under way when Orlando, in
the "green room," remarked to the stage director:

"What's that old rube doing back here, Ramsay? Why, hang it, man, he's
carrying a couple of guns. Is this a hold-up?" At the same instant
Rosalind and two of the women came rushing from their dressing tent,
alarmed and indignant. Miss Marmaduke, her eyes blazing, confronted the
stage director.

"What does this mean, Mr. Ramsay?" she cried. "That old man ordered us
out of our dressing-room at the point of a revolver, and--see! There he
is now doing the same to the men."

It was true. Anderson Crow, with a brace of horse pistols, was driving
the players toward the centre of the stage. In a tremulous voice he
commanded them to remain there and take the consequences. A moment later
the marshal of Tinkletown strode into the limelight with his arsenal,
facing an astonished and temporarily amused audience. His voice, pitched
high with excitement, reached to the remotest corners of the inclosure.
Behind him the players were looking on, open-mouthed and bewildered. To
them he loomed up as the long-dreaded constable detailed to attach their
personal effects. The audience, if at first it laughed at him as a joke,
soon changed its view. Commotion followed his opening speech.

CHAPTER XXXII

The Luck of Anderson Crow

"Don't anybody attempt to leave this tent!" commanded Mr. Crow, standing
bravely forth with his levelled revolvers. The orchestra made itself as
small as possible, for one of the guns wavered dangerously. "Don't be
alarmed, ladies and gentlemen. The train robbers are among you."

There were a few feminine shrieks, a volume of masculine "Whats!" a
half-hearted and uncertain snigger, and a general turning of heads.

"Keep your seats!" commanded Anderson. "They can't escape. I have them
surrounded. I now call upon all robbers present to surrender in the name
of the law. Surrender peaceful and you will not he damaged; resist and
we'll blow you to hell an' gone, even at the risk of injurin' the women
and childern. The law is no respecter of persons. Throw up your hands!"

He waited impressively, but either through stupefaction or obstinacy the
robbers failed to lift their hands.

"You're cornered, you golderned scamps!" shouted Anderson Crow, "an' you
might jest as well give up