"You certainly are."
"Well, if any misguided maverick gets it into his fool head to stick
_us_ up, you see what happens. Don't you know th' fellers outside have
all th' worst o' th' deal?"
"They have not!" cried the brakeman.
"They 've got all the best of it," asserted the conductor emphatically.
"I 've been inside, and I know."
"Best nothing!" cried Hopalong. "They are on th' ground, watching a
danger-line over a hundred yards long, full of windows and doors. Then
they brace th' door of a car full of people. While they climb up the
steps they can't see inside, an' then they go an' stick their heads in
plain sight. It's an even break who sees th' other first, with th' men
inside training their guns on th' glass in th' door!"
"Darned if you ain't right!" enthusiastically cried the fat man.
Hopalong laughed: "It all depends on th' men inside. If they ain't used
to handling guns, 'course they won't try to fight. We 've been in so
many gun-festivals that we would n't stop to think. If any
coin-collector went an' stuck his ugly face against th' glass in that
door he 'd turn a back-flip off 'n th' platform before he knowed he was
hit. Is there any chance for a stick-up to-day, d'y think?"
"Can't tell," replied the brakeman. "But this is about the time we have
the section-camps' pay on board," he said, going into the baggage end of
the car.
Simms leaned over close to Skinny. "It's on this train now, and I 'm
worried to death about it. I wish we were at Sandy Creek."
"Don't you go to worryin' none, then," the puncher replied. "It 'll get
to Sandy Creek all right."
Hopalong looked out of the window again and saw that there was a gradual
change in the nature of the scenery, for the plain was becoming more
broken each succeeding mile. Small woods occasionally hurtled past and
banks of cuts flashed by like mottled yellow curtains, shutting off the
view. Scrub timber stretched away on both sides, a billowy sea of
green, and miniature valleys lay under the increasing number of trestles
twisting and winding toward a high horizon.
Hopalong yawned again: "Well, it's none o' our funeral. If they let us
alone I don't reckon we 'll take a hand, not even to bust up this
monotony."
Red laughed derisively: "Oh, no! Why, you could n't sit still nohow
with a fight going on, an' you know it. An' if it's a stick-up! Wow!"
"Who gave you any say in this?" demanded his friend. "Anyhow, you ain't
no angel o' peace, not nohow!"
"Mebby they 'll plug yore new sombrero," laughed Red.
Hopalong felt of the article in question: "If any two-laigged wolf plugs
my war-bonnet he 'll be some sorry, an' so 'll his folks," he asserted,
rising and going down the aisle for a drink.
Red turned to the brakeman, who had just returned: "Say," he whispered,
"get off at th' next stop, shoot off a gun, an' yell, just for fun. Go
ahead, it 'll be better 'n a circus."
"Nix on the circus, says I," hastily replied the other. "I ain't
looking for no excitement, an' I ain't paid to amuse th' passengers. I
hope we don't even run over a track-torpedo this side of Sandy Creek."
Hopalong returned, and as he came even with them the train slowed.
"What are we stopping for?" he asked, his hand going to his holster.
"To take on water; the tank 's right ahead."
"What have you got?" asked Billy, ruffling his cards.
"None of yore business," replied Lanky. "You call when you gets any
curious."
"Oh, th' devil!" yawned Hopalong, leaning back lazily. "I shore wish I
was on my cayuse pounding leather on th' home trail."
"Me, too," grumbled Red, staring out of the window. "Well, we 're
moving again. It won't be long now before we gets out of this."
The card-game continued, the low-spoken terms being interspersed with
casual comment; Hopalong exchanged infrequent remarks with Red, while
the brakeman and conductor stared out of the same window. There was
noticeable an air of anxiety, and the fat man tried to read his magazine
with his thoughts far from the printed page. He read and re-read a
single paragraph several times without gaining the slightest knowledge
of what it meant, while the dyspeptic passenger fidgeted more and more
in his seat, like one sitting on hot coals, anxious and alert.
"We 're there now," suddenly remarked the conductor, as the bank of a
cut blanked out the view. "It was right here where it happened; the
turn's farther on."
"How many cards did you draw, Skinny?" asked Lanky.
"Three; drawin' to a straight flush," laughed the dealer.
"Here 's the turn! We 're through all right," exclaimed the brakeman.
Suddenly there was a rumbling bump, a screeching of air-brakes and the
grinding and rattle of couplings and pins as the train slowed down and
stopped with a suddenness that snapped the passengers forward and back.
The conductor and brakeman leaped to their feet, where the latter stood
quietly during a moment of indecision.
A shot was heard and the conductor's hand, raised quickly to the
whistle-rope sent blast after blast shrieking over the land. A babel of
shouting burst from the other coaches and, as the whistle shrieked
without pause, a shot was heard close at hand and the conductor reeled
suddenly and sank into a seat, limp and silent.
At the first jerk of the train the card-players threw the board from
across their knees, scattering the cards over the floor, and crouching,
gained the center of the aisle, intently peering through the windows,
their Colts ready for instant use. Hopalong and Red were also in the
aisle, and when the conductor had reeled Hopalong's Colt exploded and
the man outside threw up his arms and pitched forward.
"Good boy, Hopalong!" cried Skinny, who was fighting mad.
Hopalong wheeled and crouched, watching the door, and it was not long
before a masked face appeared on the farther side of the glass. Hopalong
fired and a splotch of red stained the white mask as the robber fell
against the door and slid to the platform.
"Hear that shooting?" cried the brakeman. "They 're at the messenger.
They 'll blow him up!"
"Come on, fellers!" cried Hopalong, leaping toward the door, closely
followed by his friends.
They stepped over the obstruction on the platform and jumped to the
ground on the side of the car farthest from the robbers.
"Shoot under the cars for legs," whispered Skinny. "That 'll bring 'em
down where we can get 'em."
"Which is a good idea," replied Red, dropping quickly and looking under
the car.
"Somebody's going to be surprised, all right," exulted Hopalong.
The firing on the other side of the train was heavy, being for the
purpose of terrifying the passengers and to forestall concerted
resistance. The robbers could not distinguish between the many reports
and did not know they were being opposed, or that two of their number
were dead.
A whinny reached Hopalong's ears and he located it in a small grove
ahead of him: "Well, we know where th' cayuses are in case they make a
break."
A white and scared face peered out of the cab-window and Hopalong
stopped his finger just in time, for the inquisitive man wore the cap of
fireman.
"You idiot!" muttered the gunman, angrily. "Get back!" he ordered.
A pair of legs ran swiftly along the other side of the car and Red and
Skinny fired instantly. The legs bent, their owner falling forward
behind the rear truck, where he was screened from sight.
"They had it their own way before!" gritted Skinny. "Now we 'll see if
they can stand th' iron!"
By this time Hopalong and Red were crawling under the express-car and
were so preoccupied that they did not notice the faint blue streak of
smoke immediately over their heads. Then Red glanced up to see what it
was that sizzed, saw the glowing end of a three-inch fuse, and blanched.
It was death not to dare and his hand shot up and back, and the dynamite
cartridge sailed far behind him to the edge of the embankment, where it
hung on a bush.
"Good!" panted Hopalong. "We 'll pay 'em for that!"
"They 're worse 'n rustlers!"
They could hear the messenger running about over their heads, dragging
and up-ending heavy objects against the doors of the car, and Hopalong
laughed grimly:
"Luck's with this messenger, all right."
"It ought to be--he 's a fighter."
"Where are they? Have they tumbled to our game?"
"They're waiting for the explosion, you chump."
"Stay where you are then. Wait till they come out to see what's th'
matter with it."