"HANDS UP!"
For an instant, Allan fancied that Jed Hopkins was playing a joke upon
him, but when he glanced at the figure behind the revolver, he saw at
once that it was shorter and heavier than that of the ex-plainsman. A
slouch hat was pulled down over the eyes and a dirty red handkerchief
tied over the mouth and chin, so that none of the face was visible except
a short section of red, pimply, and unshaven cheek. All this the boy saw
in the single second which followed his start of surprise on perceiving
the revolver at his ear.
"Hands up," muttered a hoarse voice, before Allan had time to move a
muscle, and as he mechanically obeyed, his hands were seized from behind
and bound together at the wrists in the twinkling of an eye.
"Now, tie him to his chair, Joe," said his captor, and in another moment
it was done. "Now the gag," and before the boy could protest, a corn-cob,
around which was wrapped a dirty rag, was forced between his teeth and
tied tightly to his head. Allan reflected grimly that he could appreciate
a horse's feelings when a bit was thrust into its mouth and secured there.
The man with the revolver lowered that weapon and regarded this handiwork
with evident satisfaction.
"That'll do," he said, with a chuckle. "I reckon _he_ won't bother us."
Allan, twisting his head around, saw that there were two men in the
office besides the one with the revolver, and he fancied he could detect
another walking up and down before the station. He knew, of course, that
they were after the miners' money, and the robbery had evidently been
planned with great care--as it had need to be, to stand any chance of
success.
"Now, there's just one fellow in there," continued the man, who was
evidently the leader of the expedition, "and we've got to rush him. All
ready?"
The others drew revolvers from their pockets and nodded, grouping
themselves before the door which led into the freight-shed.
The leader got out a small dark-lantern, tested it, and then leaned over
and blew out the lamp.
At the same instant, Allan, kicking out desperately, upset the other
chair which stood at the operator's desk. It fell with a crash, but the
noise was drowned by a greater one, as the door was flung back and the
robbers plunged through and hurled themselves upon Jed Hopkins.
Just what happened in the next few minutes Allan never definitely knew,
for the lantern carried by the leader was shattered in the first moment
of the onset and the place was in utter darkness. The little station
shook and quivered under repeated shocks, as though some heavy body was
being dashed against the floor and walls of the freight-shed. He could
hear the gasping breath and muttered oaths that told of a desperate
struggle. Evidently, Jed was giving a good account of himself, even
against those heavy odds. Then a revolver spoke, followed by a yell of
pain. A moment later there was a second shot, and instantly all was still.
"I thought I told you," began an angry voice--
"He made me do it!" broke in a fierce falsetto. "He put a hole right
through my hand."
Somebody struck a match and evidently took a quick survey of the place.
"We must be gettin' out of this," went on the first speaker. "Maybe
somebody heard them shots. Charlie, you go out and bring up th' wagon.
We'll break the lock."
One of the men hurried through the office and out of the station, but
Allan scarcely heard him. For he had managed to bring his arms down in
front of him; in an instant he had found his key, and was calling wildly
for Wadsworth. Wadsworth answered at once.
"This is West at Coalville," Allan ticked off with feverish haste. "There
are three robbers in station after coal company's money. Have killed
guard. Rush help. They're going--"
Some one seized him and dragged him violently back from the instrument.
"You young hound!" cried a fierce voice. "I've a good notion to--"
"What was he doin'?" asked a voice from the door.
"Callin' for help."
The man in the door muttered a fierce oath.
"Bat him in the face!" he said, and Allan was struck a savage blow
which sent him over backward upon the floor. He felt that his nose was
bleeding, but he did not lose consciousness.
"We've got plenty of time," went on the second speaker. "They can't get
anybody here inside of an hour. I wonder where that fool Charlie's gone?"
As though in answer to the question, there came a rattle of wheels from
the road outside, and Allan heard the men in the freight-shed smash the
lock and open the door which led out upon the freight-platform at the
side of the station.
"Here she is," said a voice, and a moment later the chest was dragged
toward the open door.
"How'd you manage about the operator?" asked a voice which Allan
recognized with a start as belonging to Dan Nolan.
"He's in there with his face mashed in."
"Is he?" and Nolan laughed joyfully. "I was never gladder in my life than
when I seen him git off th' train t'-night. You know who he is, don't
you?"
"No; who is he?"
"He's th' skunk that flagged th' pay-car an' got us all pinched."
There was a moment's astonished silence.
"Are you sure?" asked a voice incredulously, at last.
"Sure? I should say so. I've been tryin' t' do fer him ever since I got
out. You know that."
"Yes," growled one of the men; "we heard about it."
"Well," went on Nolan, triumphantly, "that was one reason I wanted t' git
th' reg'lar man out o' th' way. I knowed they wouldn't have much time t'
git another, an' this feller bein' right there in th' office, might hev
t' come. An' it worked as slick as greased lightnin'."
"You've got more sense than I thought you had, Dan," remarked another of
the men.
"Now we've got him, we kin do fer him," added Nolan.
"Oh, no, we can't," retorted the first speaker. "I won't stand for
that. Let the kid alone. He got a bullet through him that night. That's
enough!"
"All right," assented Nolan, sulkily; "but I'm goin' in t' take a look at
him."
Allan heard him enter the office. A match flared up and for an instant
blinded him. Then he saw Dan Nolan stooping over him, his eyes glittering
with infernal triumph.
"Well, well," he sneered, "so thet purty face o' your'n 's spiled at
last! It's my time now, you scab!" and he kicked the boy savagely in
the side. "I don't reckon you'll be pokin' your nose into other folks's
affairs much longer!"
Allan gazed up at him with contempt, not unmixed with pity, for he began
to believe that Nolan was insane. That wolf-like ferocity, surely, could
belong only to a disordered brain.
"Hurry up, there," called a hoarse voice.
"What're you goin' to do with this?" asked somebody, and Allan knew that
he referred to the body of Jed Hopkins.
"There's only one thing to do," said a third, and added a word in a voice
so low that Allan could not hear it.
"He's right," agreed the first speaker.
"How about the other one?"
"We'll take him out."
"But he'll peach!"
"I don't care if he does. Besides, what can he tell?"
"If he's heard us talkin' in here, he can tell a good deal."
There was a moment's silence.
"See here," said the first speaker, finally, "you fellows know how I
feel about this sort of thing. It's bad enough as it is; but there's a
difference in killin' a man in a fight an' killin' him in cold blood. I
don't care who he is, I won't stand fer nothin' like that. I've said so
once already and I stick to it."
"Well," remarked one of the others, "I guess you're right. Nolan, you get
him out."
"All right," said Nolan, who had reëntered the freight-shed to listen to
this controversy, and he started toward the office.
"Can you handle him yourself?"
"Sure. I'll jest drag him out in th' cheer an' set him down. Then he
can't bother us."
"Well, be quick about it. And shut all the doors."
Nolan entered the office and closed the door behind him. Then he groped
about until he found the chair which Allan had overturned. This he
dragged across the floor to the door which led into the waiting-room.
"Good-bye, Mr. West," he said, in a low voice, pausing an instant on the
threshold. "Good-bye, an' think o' me."
Then he shut the door, and Allan heard him dragging the empty chair
heavily across the other room. He swung open the outside door, bumped the
chair down the steps, then came up again and closed the door carefully.
A moment later, there came the rattle of wheels and the quick clatter of
horses' hoofs; the noise died away down the road and all was still.
Allan's head was aching horribly from the injuries which he had received
and from the position in which he lay, and he managed finally, by a
mighty effort, to twist himself over on his side. He struggled to get his
hands free, but they had been bound too tightly--so tightly, indeed, that
his wrists were chafed and swollen and his hands were numb. Nor could he
free himself from the chair. The rope, apparently a piece of ordinary
clothes-line, which held him fast to it, was knotted firmly at the back,
hopelessly beyond his reach.
When he had satisfied himself of this, he lay still again, in the easiest
posture he could assume. After all, he had only to possess his soul in
patience, and help would come. The attack, he thought, must have taken
place about half-past ten, and it must now be after eleven. The regular
passenger-train would be along shortly before twelve, bringing his
relief; he could not fail to be discovered then. He had only to lie still
for less than an hour. Perhaps not so long. A freight would probably
precede the passenger. Or it might be that the message he had sent to
headquarters before he was snatched away from his instrument would bring
help more promptly still.
Perhaps they were even now sending him a message of encouragement. He
listened, but heard no sound. Then he remembered that he had not heard
the instrument for a long time. He decided that when he was jerked away
from it, he had left the key open. That would tell them even more surely
that something was wrong. As long as his key remained open, the entire
line was out of service, and an investigation would follow in short order.
Yes, he would soon be found. And a great weariness settled upon him. He
fought against it for a time; but his eyelids drooped and drooped. He had
had a hard day, and a hard night. Tired nature could endure no more. His
eyes closed.
He dreamed that he was upon the topmost pinnacle of a great mountain.
Around him on all sides the rock fell away in abrupt and impassable
precipices. How he had reached that spot he did not know; still less, how
he would be able to leave it safely. He could not see the precipices, for
everything was dark around him, but he felt that they were there. The
darkness was absolute--no night he had ever known had been so dark. There
were no stars in the sky, no moon, and yet it seemed to him that the sky
was very near. And the silence frightened him.
Then, suddenly, to the left he discerned a point of light, which burst
upon the darkness, cutting it like a sword. It grew and grew with
astonishing rapidity, and he saw it was the sun. But it was not rising;
it was coming straight at him from some distant point in space; coming
rapidly and surely. He felt the air about him growing strangely warm and
radiant; warmer and more radiant; until the sweat broke out upon him and
a deadly fear assailed him--a fear that here, upon this pinnacle of rock,
he was to be consumed by fire. He looked wildly from side to side. There
was no escape. Yet any death was preferable to death by fire, and with a
quick intaking of the breath, he leaped far out, and fell, fell--
He opened his eyes with a start. For an instant, under the influence of
the dream, he fancied that he was still upon the rock, so light and warm
was the office. Then he heard the roar of fire, and angry tongues of
flame licked under and around the door, casting a lurid glow across the
floor.