"Alex, will you work for me three or four hours to-night?" requested the
Bixton night operator of Alex one evening late in October. "I have just
had an invitation to a surprise party at Brodies', and wouldn't care to
miss it."
Alex agreed willingly. "I'll be right in line then for the latest news of
the chase," he declared. For an attempt had been made that morning to rob
the Farmers' Savings Bank at Zeisler, a posse had been sent from Bixton
to aid in the pursuit of the robbers, and reports from the hunt were
being anxiously looked for.
"Take care you don't get in line for any bullets," laughed the operator
as he left. "It's your weakness, you know, to get mixed up in any
excitement that's going on within a mile of you."
To Alex's disappointment hour after hour passed, however, and brought no
further word, either of the pursued, or the pursuers. Finally, just
before midnight, hearing Zeisler "come in" on the wire to report the
passing of a freight, Alex reached for the key, determined to inquire.
As he did so footsteps sounded on the silent platform without, the
waiting-room door opened, and two strangers appeared at the ticket-window.
Glancing in, they turned to the office door, and entered.
"Hello, youngster," said the taller of the two, cordially, leaning over
the parcel-counter. "What's the news from the man-hunt?"
"I was going to ask Zeisler just as you came in," replied Alex, turning
again to the key.
"Well, never mind, then. Just tell them they were captured here,
instead."
"What! Captured here?" exclaimed Alex.
"That's it. About an hour ago, just north, by the Bloomsbury posse.
Sheriff O'Brien sent us down with the news, so you could send word up and
down the line and call in the other posses. No need of them plugging
around all night."
But, instead of complying, Alex suddenly turned more fully toward the two
men. "What posse did you say you were with?"
"Bloomsbury! Bloomsbury!" said the smaller man, impatiently.
"Bloomsbury! Don't you mean Bloomsburg?"
"Well, what thundering difference--" The taller man flashed a warning
gesture, and in an instant Alex understood.
_He was face to face with the bank robbers themselves!_
For a moment he stared from one to the other in consternation. Then,
sharply recovering himself, he turned quickly back to the key. But he was
too late. He had betrayed his discovery.
Both men laughed. "Your surmise is correct, my young friend," said the
taller man, lightly. "We are the gentlemen who were forced to leave
Zeisler so hurriedly this morning.
"But don't let that make any difference," he continued, producing a
revolver and placing it significantly on the counter before him. "Go
right ahead with the message.
"Or wait, give me a blank, and I'll write it, so you will be sure to have
it right."
"Oh, hold on," interposed his companion. "Now that he knows who we are,
how do you know he will send the message as you write it, and not just
the other thing--give us away?"