to find more than two on each train.

So Rod had very little to do in his new position, and soon after leaving
the second stopping-place of his train, was sitting near the forward end
of the coach with his head resting on the back of a seat, gazing at the
ceiling and buried in deep thought. Conductor Tobin and the other brakeman
were seated some distance behind him engaged in conversation.

Rod was thinking of what an awful thing it was to be blind, and this chain
of thought was suggested by a glimpse of the young man with smoked
glasses, whom he had assisted on board the "Limited" some hours before,
standing on the platform of the station they had just left. He had
evidently reached his journey's end and was patiently waiting for some one
to come and lead him away--or at least this was what Rod imagined the
situation to be. In reality, that same young man, with unimpaired eyesight
and no longer wearing smoked glasses, was on board the express special at
that very moment. He had sprung on to the forward platform of the money
car undetected in the darkness as the train left the circle of station
lights and was now on its roof fastening a light rope ladder to a ledge
just above one of the middle and half-glazed doors of the car. A red
flannel mask concealed the lower half of his face, and as he swung
himself down on his frail and fearfully swaying support he held a powerful
navy revolver in his right hand. He was taking frightful risks to win a
desperate game. Failing in his effort to conceal himself aboard the very
train he intended to rob, he had taken passage on the "Limited" as far as
its first stopping-place and had there awaited the coming of the Express
Special. Thus far his reckless venture had succeeded, and as Rod sat in
the coach thinking pityingly of him, he was covering the unsuspecting
messenger in the money car with his revolver.

"What would I do if I were blind?" thought Rod. "I suppose uncle would
take care of me; but how humiliating it would be to have to go back to him
helpless and dependent. How thankful I should be that I can see besides
being well and strong and able to care for myself. I will do it too
without asking help from any one, and I'll win such a name for honesty
and faithfulness on this road that even Uncle Arms will be compelled to
believe whatever I may tell him. I wonder if Snyder could have put that
emery into the oil-cup himself? It doesn't seem as though any one could be
so mean."