The Ranchman

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER IV--THE HOLD-UP

  After breakfast--leaving a widely grinning waiter, who watched himadmiringly--Taylor reentered the Pullman.

  Stretching out in the upholstered seat, Taylor watched the flyinglandscape. But his thoughts were upon the two men he had overheardtalking about the girl in the diner. Taylor made a grimace of disgust atthe great world through which the train was speeding; and his felinegrin when his thoughts dwelt definitely upon Carrington, indicated thatthe genial waiter had not erred greatly in saying Taylor was not"scary."

  Upon entering, Taylor had flashed a rapid glance into the car. He hadseen Carrington and Parsons sitting together in one of the seats and,farther down, the girl, leaning back, was looking out of the window. Herback was toward Taylor. She had not seen him enter the car--and he wascertain she had not seen him leave it to go to the diner. He hadthought--as he had glanced at her as he went into the smokingcompartment--that, despite the girl's seemingly affectionate mannertoward Parsons, and her cordial treatment of the big man, her mannerindicated the presence of a certain restraint. And as he looked towardher, he wondered if Parsons or the big man had told her anything of theconversation in the diner in which he himself figured.

  And now, looking out of the window, he decided that even if the men hadtold her, she would not betray her knowledge to him--unless it were togive him another scornful glance--the kind she threw at him when she sawhim as he sat behind the two men when they had been talking of Dawes.Taylor reddened and gritted his teeth impotently; for he knew that ifthe two men had told her anything, they would have informed her, merely,that they had again caught him listening to them. And for that doubleoffense, Taylor knew there would be no pardon from her.

  Half an hour later, while still thinking of the girl and the men, Taylorfelt the train slowing down. Peering as far ahead as he could bypressing his face against the glass of the window, Taylor saw the trainwas entering a big cut between some hills. It was a wild section, with aheavy growth of timber skirting the hills--on Taylor's side of thetrain--and running at a sharp angle toward the right-of-way came a smallriver.

  Taylor recognized the place as Toban's Siding. He did not know how thespot had come by its name; nor did he know much about it except thatthere was a spur of track and a water-tank. And when the train began toslow down he supposed the engineer had decided to stop to take on water.He found himself wondering, though, why that should be necessary, for hewas certain the train had stopped for water a few miles back, while hehad been in the dining-car.

  The train was already late, and Taylor grinned as he settled fartherback in the seat and drew a sigh of resignation. There was no accountingfor the whims of an engineer, he supposed.

  He felt the train come to a jerking stop; and then fell a silence. Aninstant later the silence was broken by two sharp reports, a distinctinterval between them. Taylor sat erect, the smile leaving his face, andhis lips setting grimly as the word "Hold-up" came from between them.

  Marion Harlan also heard the two reports. Stories of trainrobberies--recollections of travelers' tales recurred in her brain asshe sat, for the first tense instant following the reports, listeningfor other sounds. Her face grew a little pale, and a tremor ran overher; but she did not feel a bit like screaming--though in all thestories she had ever read, women always yielded to the hysteria of thatmoment in which a train-robber makes his presence known.

  She was not frightened, though she was just a trifle nervous, and morethan a trifle curious. So she pressed her cheek against the window-glassand looked forward.

  What she saw caused her to draw back again, her curiosity satisfied. Foron the side of the cut near the engine, she had seen a man with arifle--a masked man, tall and rough-looking--and it seemed to her thatthe weapon in his hands was menacing someone in the engine-cab.

  She stiffened, looking quickly around the car. None of the passengershad moved. Carrington and Parsons were still sitting together in theseat. They were sitting erect, though, and she saw they, too, werecurious. More, she saw that both men were pale, and that Carrington, theinstant she turned, became active--bending over, apparently trying tohide something under a seat. That movement on Carrington's part wasconvincing, and the girl drew a deep breath.

  While she was debating the wisdom of permitting her curiosity to driveher to the door nearest her to determine what had happened, the doorburst open and a masked man appeared in the opening!

  While she stared at him, he uttered the short, terse command:

  "Hands up!"

  She supposed that meant her, as well as the men in the car, and shecomplied, though with a resentful glare at the mask.

  Daringly she turned her head and glanced back. Carrington had his handsup, too; and Parsons--and the tourist, and the other man. She did notsee Taylor--though she wondered, on the instant, if he, too, would obeythe train-robber's command.

  She decided he would--any other course would have been foolhardy; thoughshe could not help remembering that queer gleam in Taylor's eyes. Thatgleam, it had seemed to her, was a reflection of--not foolhardiness, butof sheer courage.

  However, she had little time to speculate. The masked man advanced, aheavy gun in his right hand, its muzzle moving from side to side,menacing them all.

  He halted when he had advanced to within a step of the girl.

  "You guys set tight!" he ordered gruffly--in the manner of thetrain-robber of romance. "If you go to lettin' down your sky-hooks onelittle quiver, I bore you so fast an' plenty that you'll think you're acolander!" Then he turned the mask toward the girl; she could feel hiseyes burning through it.

  "Shell out, lady!" he commanded.

  She stared straight back at the eye-slits in the mask, defiance glintingher own eyes.

  "I haven't any money--or anything of value--to give you," she returned.

  "You've got a pocketbook there--in your hand!" he said. "Fork it over!"He removed his hat, held it in his left hand, and extended it towardher. "Toss it in there!"

  Hesitatingly, she obeyed, though not without a vindictive satisfactionin knowing that he would find little in the purse to compensate him forhis trouble. She could see his eyes gleam greedily as he still looked ather.

  "Now that chain an' locket you've got around your neck!" he ordered."Quick!" he added, savagely, as she stiffened and glared at him.

  She did as she was bidden, though; for she had no doubt he would killher--at least his manner indicated he would. And so she removed it, heldit lingering in her hand for an instant, and then tossed it into thehat. She gulped as she did so, for the trinket had been given to her byher father before he left home to go on that pilgrimage from which hehad never returned.

  "That's all, eh?" snarled the man. "Well, I ain't swallowin' that! I'mgoin' to search you!"

  She believed she must have screamed at that. She knew she stood up,prepared to fight him if he attempted to carry out his threat; and onceon her feet she looked backward.

  Neither Carrington nor Parsons had moved--they were palely silent,watching, not offering to interfere. As for that, she knew that any signof interference on the part of her friends would result in their instantdeath. But she did not know what they _should_ do! Something must bedone, for she could not permit the indignity the man threatened!

  Still looking backward, she saw Taylor standing at the end of thecar--where the partition of the smoking-compartment extended outward. Heheld a gun in each hand. He had heard her scream, and on his face as thegirl turned toward him, she saw a mirthless grin that made her shiver.She believed it must have been her gasp that caused the train-robber tolook swiftly at Taylor.

  Whatever had caused the man to look toward the rear of the car, he sawTaylor; and the girl saw him stiffen as his pistol roared in her ears.Taylor's pistols crashed at the same instant--twice--the reports almosttogether. Afterward she could not have told what surprised her themost--seeing the man at her side drop his pistol and lurch limplyagainst a corner of the seat opposite her, and from there slide gentlyto
the floor, grunting; or the spectacle of Taylor, arrayed in cowboygarb, emerging from the door of the smoking-compartment, the mirthlesssmile on his face, and his guns--he had used both--blazing forth deathto the man who had threatened her.

  Nor could she--afterward--have related what followed the suddentermination of the incident in the car. Salient memories stood out--thevivid and tragic recollection of chief incidents that occurredimmediately; but she could not have even guessed how they happened.

  She saw Taylor as he stood for an instant looking down at the man afterhe came running forward to where the other lay; and she saw Taylor leapfor the front door of the car, vanish through it, and slam it after him.

  For an instant after that there was silence, during which she shudderedas she tried to keep her gaze from the thing that lay doubled oddly inthe aisle.

  And then she heard more shooting. It came from the direction of theengine--the staccato crashing of pistols; the shouts of men, theirvoices raised in anger.

  Pressing her cheek against the window-pane, and looking forward towardthe engine, she saw Taylor. With a gun in each hand, he was running downthe little level between the track and the steep wall of the cut, towardher. She noted that his face still wore the mirthless grin that had beenon it when he shot the train-robber in the car; though his eyes werealight with the lust of battle--that was all too plain--and sheshivered. For Taylor, having killed one man, and grimly pursuing others,seemed to suggest the spirit of this grim, rugged country--the threat ofdeath that seemed to linger on every hand.

  She saw him snap a shot as he ran, bending far over to send the bulletunder the car; she heard a pistol crash from the other side of the car;and then she saw Taylor go to his knees.

  She gasped with horror and held to the window-sill, for she fearedTaylor had been killed. But almost instantly she saw her error, forTaylor was on his hands and knees crawling when she could againconcentrate her gaze; and she knew he was crawling under the car tocatch the man who had shot from the other side.

  Then Taylor disappeared, and she did not see him for a time. She heardshots, though; many of them; and then, after a great while, a silence.And during the silence she sat very still, her face white and her lipsstiff, waiting.

  The silence seemed to endure for an age; and then it was broken by thesound of voices, the opening of the door of the car, and the appearanceof Taylor and some other men--several members of the train-crew; theexpress-messenger; the engineer, his right arm hanging limply--and twomen, preceding the others, their hands bound, their faces sullen.

  On Taylor's face was the grin that had been on it all along. The girlwondered at the man's marvelous self-control--for certainly during thosemoments of excitement and danger he must have been aware of the terriblerisk he had been running. And then the thought struck her--she had notconsidered that phase of the situation before--that she _must_ havescreamed; that he had heard her, and had emerged from the smoking-roomto protect her. She blushed, gratitude and a riot of other emotionsoverwhelming her, so that she leaned weakly back in the seat, succumbingto the inevitable reaction.

  She did not look at Taylor again; she did not even see him as he walkedtoward the rear of the car, followed by the train-crew, and preceded bythe two train-robbers he had captured.

  But as the train-crew passed her, she heard one of them say:

  "That guy's a whirlwind with a gun! Didn't do no hesitatin', did he?"

  And again:

  "Now, what do you suppose would make a guy jump in that way an' run achance of gettin' plugged--plenty? Do you reckon he was just yearnin'fer trouble, or do you reckon they was somethin' else behind it?"

  The girl might have answered, but she did not. She sat very still,comparing Carrington with this man who had plunged instantly into adesperate gun-fight to protect her. And she knew that Carrington wouldnot have done as Taylor had done. And had Carrington seen her face justat that moment he would have understood that there was no possibility ofhim ever achieving the success of which he had dreamed.

  She heard one of the men say that the two men were to be placed in thebaggage-car until they reached Dawes; and then Carrington and Parsonscame to where she sat.

  They talked, but the girl did not hear them, for her thoughts were onthe picture Taylor made when he appeared at the door of thesmoking-compartment arrayed in his cowboy rigging, the grim smile on hisface, his guns flaming death to the man who thought to take advantage ofher helplessness.