t question,
every order issued by the young engine-driver on the opposite side of
the cab.

As the train dashed along at full speed there was no chance for
conversation between the two, even had they felt inclined for it. Both
were too fully engaged in peering ahead along the unfamiliar line of
track to pay attention to aught else.

Presently the conductor clambered over the tender from the baggage-car,
and stood in the cab with them, to post Glen as to the grades and
crossings.

It lacked a few seconds of fifteen minutes from the time of their
starting, when they slowed down for the telegraph-station, the lights of
which were twinkling just ahead. Here, while the conductor roused the
operator, and sent his despatch, the locomotive was run up to the tank,
and a fresh supply of water was taken aboard.

Then they were off again--this time for a run of forty miles without a
stop or check. Daylight was coming on so rapidly now that the track was
plainly visible by it, and thus one source of anxiety was removed.

Up to this time Glen had no idea of what had happened, nor of the cause
of the shooting that had resulted so disastrously. Now, though he did
not turn his head, he learned, from the conversation between the
conductor and his fireman, whom the former called "General," that an
attempt had been made to rob the train of a large sum of money that the
latter had placed in a safe in the express-car. He had received secret
information that such an attempt would probably be made, and had engaged
two detectives in St. Louis to guard his treasure. When the train was
stopped in the woods by a danger signal waved across the track, the
engine-driver had been ordered by the would-be robbers, who had cut the
express-car loose from those behind it, to go ahead. His refusal to obey
them had cost him his life, and the fireman an ugly wound.

The general, who left the sleeper, and ran ahead at the first alarm, had
shot and severely injured two of the robbers, and with the aid of his
men had driven the rest to the shelter of the forest after a few minutes
sharp fighting. The three wounded men, together with the body of the
dead engine-driver, were now in the baggage-car; while the train-load of
passengers, thanks to the practical knowledge of a sixteen-year-old boy,
and the pluck that enabled him to utilize it, were rapidly nearing their
journey's end in safety.

An anxious crowd was gathered about the Kansas City station as the