He wore a long overcoat, buttoned to his chin, with the collar
turned up. A slouch hat pulled well down over his eyes so far concealed
his face that his features were scarcely visible. He came over to my
desk and gruffly asked, "What time is there a passenger train east
to-night?"
I answered that one went through at half past one, the Overland Flyer,
but it did not stop at Alfreda. Quick as a flash he pulled a revolver
and poking it in my face, said, "Young man, you turn your red-light and
stop that train or I'll make a vacancy in this office mighty d----d
quick."
[Illustration: "Two of the men tied my hands in front of me."]
The longer I gazed down the barrel of that revolver the bigger it grew,
and it looked to me as if it was loaded with buck-shot to the muzzle.
When it had grown to about the size of a gatling gun (and it didn't take
long to do it), I concluded that "discretion was the better part of
valor," and reached up and turned my red-light. Meanwhile the door
opened again, and three more men came in. They were masked and the
minute I saw them I knew they were going to make an attempt to hold up
the Overland Flyer.
Pages:
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257