A HOLD UP
At that moment there came a glare of light sweeping down the track from
the headlight of "No. 10." With a roar and swaying of the big engine,
the train rushed down upon them and swept past with its hind heels or
wheels kicking up the dust. Then its tail lights of cherry red grew dim
way down the valley.
"All aboard, boys," cried Ketchel as No. 10 passed; "we've got some time
to make up."
"He'll stop just short of murder to the train," declared the fireman who
knew his engineer when it came to a question of picking up a few minutes
of time.
"He will swing her like he used to drive the old stagecoach on the down
grade," remarked Jim, "and that will be going some."
Already they were gathering speed, as he sent "The General Denver" along
the level of the valley. In a short time the train came to a steep
descent through a narrow canyon, and Jim was in for a new experience.
Enured though he was to all kinds of dangers it made him catch his
breath when the engine went straight for a wall of solid rock and then
turned as though to dash straight from the track, into the brawling
stream below.
It righted itself with an effort and leaped down the shining trail
rocking from side to side and trembling with the vibrations of its
fierce power, dashing straight for the depths of the shadows between the
towering cliffs. Little did the sleeping passengers realize the dangers
through which they were passing every minute.
"Gee!" exclaimed Jim, "suppose a bowlder has rolled onto the track just
ahead. It might happen easy enough too."
Just then, Bill Sheehan, the fireman, touched Jim with the end of his
shovel to call his attention to something they were coming to ahead. Jim
saw a jumbled heap of freight cars half in the stream and half out, and
a little ways further on was the rusty ruin of a once powerful
locomotive. Jim nodded to the fireman.
"Something has been doing there," he yelled, but the words were blown
from his lips and lost in the roar as steam disappears in the air. Jim
took a look at his friend, the engineer. He was alert and intent, ready
for any emergency, and Jim felt a sense of absolute confidence in his
friend's skill. After a ten mile run, the canyon began to broaden out
and there were other trees besides the solemn pines. A sense of
impending danger came over Jim. He had experienced it many times before
and whether it was an ambush of Indians, or the plans of some band of
outlaws it had rarely betrayed him. It was something in the air; a
vibration that the human nerves are as conscious of as a dog's nose is
cognizant of the scent of some wild animal. Jim turned and looked at the
engineer, who nodded back at him for a second, with a look that
indicated there was business ahead; then his eyes were fastened on the
track again.
Jim took out his watch and saw that it was a quarter to two. It brought
a quizzical smile to his face. Time and again he had noted the fact that
it was just about this time that an attack was sure to come. It sent a
thrill through his nerves for he felt that they were rushing straight to
a crisis. Much depended on the three men in the engine, for there were
many helpless women and children on the train for whose safety they were
responsible. Jim noted that the country through which they were going
was well suited for the purposes of the bandits desiring to hold up the
train.
On either side the walls of the mountains rose at the distance of only a
few hundred yards, covered with dark pines and huge rocks showing here
and there on the bare fall of some precipice. Between the foot of the
mountains and the track was rugged ground, with large bowlders scattered
here and there. Clumps of trees and bushes and numerous gullies could be
discerned.
It was just the country for a surprise of this kind. Jim stepped down
from his narrow seat and got his hands thoroughly warm and pliable, took
off his coat and folded it neatly on the seat and stood with his
revolver in hand, seeing whether its action was all right. He was a
stalwart figure indeed, dressed in his characteristic regimentals, with
a thick, tight fitting sweater of blue, pants of the same color, and a
new sombrero of a dark hue, for the old one had been battered and worn
out of all semblance to a hat, and he was obliged to give it up, though
it was like parting with an old friend.
Jim as you remember, perhaps, was a trifle over six feet in height and
during his short stay at home he had gained in flesh, so that he weighed
one hundred and eighty-five pounds. His hair was brown and straight and
his eyes gray. He was doubtless fit for this battle or any that should
come his way.
Just at that moment, Bob Ketchel saw an obstruction on the track, about
two hundred yards distant, and applied the air brakes instantly. He had
been on the watch for just this thing, and noted that there was plenty
of cover where the express was halted wherein the desperadoes could
hide.
Slowly the panting engine came to a stop with its nose almost against
the stone obstruction and there were flashes from a half dozen rifles on
either side of "The General Denver." A simultaneous attack was made at
the rear of the train.
It was hardly a fair duel but Jim and Bob Ketchel were competent hands
at this game and keeping under cover they managed to get in some telling
shots. A near bullet sent a splinter from the cab into Jim's cheek, but
he paid no attention to it at the time. When he caught a sudden glimpse
of two men skulking behind a clump of bushes trying to get a bead on
him, he sent two shots straight at them and then ducked into the cab in
time to escape a side shot from behind a rock.
He could hear Bob's fusillade from the other side of the cab and the
return volleys from the enemy, but he did not worry about his friend,
the engineer, for he knew full well that he could take care of himself.
It was the other fellows who would have to look out. But Jim saw a
figure leap in behind a rock, near the side of the express car, where he
would have the drop on Bob.
There was but one thing to do and James did it. He leaped into the
tender which made an excellent fort, and there for a few minutes he kept
the bandits at bay. He would have laughed heartily at the fireman, Bill
Sheehan, if he could have spared the time, for that worthy had taken up
the battle in his own way. Having quickly discarded his revolver with
which he was not an expert, he began hurling chunks of coal, wherever he
saw the flash of the enemy's fire, and filled with fighting fury he
exposed himself most recklessly, but with no apparent harm. Whether
Bill's novel form of attack made the attacking party helpless with
laughter or because he was in such constant motion that it was hard to
get a bead on him, be the reason what it may, at least Sheehan came
through unscathed.
For a brief time, the battle was even, in fact the engineer and Jim
probably had the best of it, and then there came a change in the
situation. The party in the rear, saw that their brethren were meeting
with a sharp resistance from the engine, so two of them swiftly and
stealthily ran along by the side of the train until they came to the
baggage car next to the engine.
Slipping in between the two cars they quickly got on top of the baggage.
Any noise they might have made being deadened by the firing going on
just below. The desperadoes redoubled their attack when they saw two of
their number about to turn the fight in their favor, for it was
perfectly clear what an advantage their position on the roof of the car
would give them.
They could not be hit themselves even if discovered, and it was certain
death for Jim and the engineer for they would not be more than thirty
feet from the two desperadoes. Even a tenderfoot would not miss at that
distance and these men were not in that class. Neither Jim nor Bob
Ketchel were standing so that they could catch a glimpse of the two men
who were crawling along the top of the blind baggage. At that instant,
Bill Sheehan made a rush for the top of the coal pile to get a chunk of
ammunition of sufficient size and weight.