The Comet had now a guide. No more excursions into the wilderness of the
unknown for him. Timidly and cautiously he crept along as close to the
tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad as the highway permitted, for they
were about to go through the wild rugged country where rise the
snow-capped ranges of the Rocky Mountains.
With a sigh of relief they said good-by to Steptoe Lodge.
"It was interesting, but uncomfortable," Miss Campbell had said. For a
whole day Billie's experience had quite shaken Miss Campbell's
enthusiasm in the journey. It was not a permanent distaste, however.
Having remained quietly in West Haven for a quarter of a century, the
little woman was now possessed with a thirst for travel. She had
developed into a high-toned Gypsy with a disposition to perpetual
wandering.
The partings at Steptoe Lodge had some of them been quite moving; but
not Rosina's, who had bade them a chilly farewell. Her nature was a
stormy one, a strange mixture of hot and cold, anger and humility,
courage and fear.
"I don't know whom she's angriest with," Billie had observed, "our
ex-teacher, Maria, for putting her brother up to such lawless tricks or
us because we were the victims."
"I hope they catch him," said Miss Campbell firmly. "I do, indeed, and
shut him up in prison for a long, long time. Such dangerous characters
ought not to be allowed to run at large."
"They'll catch him if Brek Steptoe has any influence," put in Nancy.
"Barney told me his cousin was never going to put up with Hawkeseye
again. He had stood all he intended. Rosina was now to choose between
them."
"What is that you're looking at, Nancy?" demanded Elinor, changing the
subject.
Nancy blushed and laughed.
"A parting gift from Jim," she replied.
Poor Jim had ridden for some miles beside the Comet and they had gone
slowly in order to enjoy his company. Then, with a last hand-shake all
around and a heart-breaking sigh, he stopped in the middle of the road,
his sombrero in one hand and his horse's reins in the other. And there
he stood as still as a statue until the motor car was reduced to a small
scarlet dot on the horizon. When he had shaken hands with Nancy, he
thrust a small package into her lap. There were tears in Nancy's eyes
when she looked at the contents of the package, although her laugh rang
out as merrily as her friends' as she drew forth the hind foot of a jack
rabbit mounted on a plaited loop of horsehair.
"Does he expect me to wear this thing around my neck," she cried
dangling the clumsy paw between her small thumb and forefinger.
"There's a note," said Mary, leaning over Nancy's shoulder.
Nancy smiled again as she read the note, first to herself and then out
loud:
"Dear Miss Nancy:
"I killed the rabbit in an Indian burying ground in the dark of the
moon. The hair came from my horse's tail. He's a fine little animal,
my horse. I love him best in the world next to--something else I
like better. I wish it were a gold rabbit's foot set in diamonds,
but it's a long ways here from a jewelry store, and this is the best
I can do. I've had it a long time, and it's brought me good luck at
last, because I've met you. I hope it will bring you luck. Good-by.
It's the hardest good-by I ever had to say. If I ever strike a gold
mine I'm coming East. Good-by again.
"Jim."
"P. S.--Don't forget me."
"Poor, lonely soul!" exclaimed Miss Campbell, wiping the moisture from
her eyes. "Where are his people, I wonder?"
"He hasn't any," answered Nancy. "His father was a miner and he died
when Jim was a little boy. He's worked in lumber camps and lived around
like this all his life. I think he's very gentlemanly, considering. He
says Tony has taught him a lot. Jim is only eighteen, you know, although
he looks much older."
Deep down in her heart Miss Campbell made a resolution that she would
like to do something very nice for Jim.
They slept that night at Cheyenne, which had once been a rude little
frontier town, and was now a handsome city, and the next day pushed on
toward Laramie. After riding hundreds of miles over level prairie
grounds, the eyes become accustomed to wide stretches of landscape and
the mind, too, takes a broader and more generous outlook on life. What
is called "the peace of the plains" seems to brood over the traveler.
Our five motorists were filled with this quietude as they went Westward.
All the difficulties of the trip and past dangers were forgotten. They
were as peaceful as holy pilgrims journeying toward Mecca. At last, late
in the afternoon, Billie suddenly stopped the car and pointed silently
toward the setting sun. She had caught her first glimpse of the Rocky
Mountains.
Far in the distance they lay, the first vague misty opalescent peaks of
the great chain which divides the West into countries. They were only
the earliest indications of the wild and beautiful scenery of Wyoming
through which they were about to pass.
"And after Wyoming comes Utah," observed Mary Price, thinking aloud.
"And in Utah comes Evelyn," called Billie.
The girls thrilled at the thought of Evelyn. What might not have
happened to her since she had been compelled to return to Utah.
"Perhaps her father has made her marry a Mormon," suggested Mary in an
awed tone of voice.
"Or shut her in a dungeon," pursued Nancy, who had a vague idea such
things might take place in this strange city.
"It's like the story of the wicked king and the princess," here put in
Elinor, her thoughts running on royal blood as usual.
The girls smiled, but the notion was a disquieting one at any rate and
Billie began silently to calculate how long it would take before they
could reach Salt Lake City, weather and Comet permitting.
"I wish--I wish----" she began, but the whistle of a locomotive
interrupted her.
"It's the express," exclaimed one of the girls.
"It's going to stop."
"But there's no station."
"A man is flagging it, don't you see. It's the track walker, I suppose.
Perhaps something is the matter ahead."
A very tall man with a lean figure, broad shoulders and a flopping
sombrero hat was, in fact, waving a red flag in front of the Western
express, which slowed up and presently, almost opposite the motor car,
came to a full stop. The Comet also paused and waited to see what was
the trouble.
The engine was too far in front to hear the conversation between the
engineer, who now thrust his head out of the window, and the individual
with the flag. But what happened next was exceedingly strange. The
flagman, casting aside his signal, followed the engineer down the track
to the first coach, which was the baggage car, and presently emerged on
the platform leading to the next coach.
And now the engineer was not alone. Several baggage men and train
officials had joined him, and they walked with their arms held up in the
air. So absorbed was the motor party with the strange actions of the
train people that they failed at the moment to notice what the lean
individual was carrying in his hand. Neither could they tell what was
taking place in the first passenger coach, but as the train officials
were herded across the platform, still with arms uplifted, they suddenly
became aware that the pockets in their coats, trousers and waistcoats
were turned wrong side out, and that the man who was driving them in
front of him like a herd of cattle held a pistol in his right hand, on
the barrel of which the sun shone brilliantly.
"Billie, Billie, go on as fast as you can go, they are train robbers,"
whispered Miss Campbell hoarsely, almost bereft of her voice from
fright.
Billie jumped out of the machine, wishing with all her heart that
somebody would invent a motor car that wouldn't need to be cranked up.
"Beggin' your pardon, Miss, will you kindly stay where you are?" said a
soft, drawling voice behind them.
They turned quickly and faced another broad-shouldered individual with a
sombrero half covering his lean, sunburned face. His gray eyes twinkled
with amusement when he saw their consternation.
"We won't do no harm to you, ladies, except to ask you for a lift after
this little business is over. Jes' keep perfectly quiet and ask no
questions, and we'll tell you no lies."
Somehow, Billie did not feel frightened at this gentle, humorous person.
"Suppose we don't care to give you a lift," she said, her hand on the
cranking lever.
"That would be a pity, Miss," answered the man coaxingly, "because," he
went on slowly, "you see----" his hand slipped in his hip pocket and
drew out a small, dangerous-looking revolver.
"Billie, darling, don't oppose the creature!" cried Miss Campbell in a
strangled voice.
"Steady! steady!" said the man. "Don't git nervous, lady. You'll come
through the ordeal as well as you ever was in your life. Jes' draw in a
bit."
Never had the moments dragged so slowly as they did now. Through the car
windows they could see men and women with arms uplifted. Was it possible
that one man could rob fifty? No; not one. They perceived two
confederates, who had sprung up from somewhere, followed behind with a
pistol in each hand. An intense quiet seemed to hang over the place as
the robbers went silently through the train, and at last emerged from
the back. The herd of officials were now made to get out and walk toward
the engine. The engineer was permitted to climb into his engine, the
others climbed in anywhere after him. As the train began to get up steam
a man called out:
"Good heavens! there's an automobile full of girls. We can't leave them
at the mercy of these blackguards."
"They're confederates!" called another man.
"Confederates? Nonsense! Don't you see that fellow has a pistol aimed at
them?"
As the train started, the passenger ran back to the platform and jumped
off. The next moment three train robbers and a young man without any hat
surrounded the Comet:
"Now, don't try any monkey business, young feller," said the first
robber, pointing his pistol at the passenger. "Jes' stay right where you
are. I don't want to commit murder."
"Put that pistol up, Jim Bowles. I'm not afraid of you or of any of your
disreputable acquaintances. These ladies are friends of mine, and I
intend to stay with them."
The girls, who had huddled down in the car white and silent, took
courage and looked up.
It was Daniel Moore who was speaking.
Miss Campbell gave a little tremulous cry like a child's.
"Oh, Mr. Moore, I implore you not to leave us."
"I mean what I say," pursued Jim Bowles. "If you wanter be still
breathing fresh air in another two minutes, stay where you are."
Daniel Moore looked him calmly in the eye.
"Do you remember Christmas Eve at Silver Bow two years ago?" he asked.
The robber's face was curiously twisted with emotion.
"Yes," he replied.
"I cut you down," said Daniel Moore. "You would have been strung up
there yet if I hadn't come back in time. The scar is still there, I
see."
He glanced at the man's sinewy throat around which ran a deep red scar.
With one stride Jim Bowles reached the other side of the automobile and
seized Mr. Moore's hand.
"Wuz you the gennelman? Stranger, git in and take it easy. We won't do
no harm to these ladies. But we'd like to git a lift. I knowed you wuz a
brave man as soon as I seen you, and no one kin ever say Jim Bowles
forgits a favor."
Daniel Moore climbed in behind with Miss Helen and the girls who huddled
down somehow, while the robbers pressed themselves into the front and
Billie started the machine.