In case she wouldn't stop, they would have a pile of ties
on the track that would soon put a quietus on her flight. Poor little
Dick was horrified and stealing quietly away some distance he stopped
and cogitated. Time was becoming precious. How was he to send a warning?
Oh! if he could only get into a telegraph office! Suddenly an idea
struck him. He went a little farther up the track, and shinning up a
pole he took his heavy jack-knife, and after a hard effort, succeeded in
cutting two wires. Another pole was climbed and only one wire cut from
it. With this strand he made a joint so that the two ends of the
despatcher's wire could be brought in easy contact. Then by knocking the
two ends together he sent the warning. His cutting of the wire had made
a peculiar loud twang and one of the outlaws heard it. Becoming
suspicious, he and his partner started up the track to investigate. They
came upon Dick, kneeling on one knee, engrossed in his work, and without
one word of warning shot him in the back. They left him for dead, but
thank God he did not die, and to-day he is on a road that before many
years will land him on top of the heap.
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