THE WEST-BOUND EXPRESS.

By George Flambro
(pseud for G W Lamplugh, 1859-1926)

       "WELL?" asked William, as we stood upon the desolate prairie, gazing blankly over our blackened crops.

       "Well, now!" was all I could say in reply.

       We certainly were two unfortunates. In England our professional prospects had been blighted by the malice of the examiners in law and medicine respectively, who showed such an unaccountable dislike to us during our first trials as to convince us that it was futile to strive since we were doomed beforehand. Then our relatives professed to discover that we were wasting our own time and their money, and packed us off to a fresh sphere of action.

       On this side the ocean we had really braced ourselves for an effort, but ill luck had still pursued us. We gave ear to a plausible land-agent in Chicago, who said he was an Englishman and loved us, and we bought a farm of him, and found too late that our "rich improved prairie-farm, with unimpeachable residential and other accommodation, centrally situate in the most prosperous portion of that magnificent and booming state of Dakota, crossed by a main trunk-road, and close to a celebrated railroad centre," was a wretched sterile tract, with a plank box for a dwelling, fully thirty miles from a settlement, and with not even a neighbour under ten miles. Still, not caring to own ourselves swindled, we had hung on in desperate hope, and had sent home periodical accounts, more or less fantastic, of our condition and prospects, and had managed to exist on the resulting remittances. And now, just when after three years of harder toil than we had suspected ourselves capable of we had managed at last to get a fair portion of our land into something resembling cultivation, and saw looming before us the prospect of at any rate some sort of a return, we awoke to find the June sunshine gleaming through a window latticed with icy tracery, and the water frozen in a bucket on the floor, and the fate of our tender growing corn sealed.

       William, who was more volatile than I, had been urging me for months past to abandon the place and try a fresh start elsewhere, but somehow I had been unreasonably loath to do so. It might be my phlegmatic nature, or it might be because our nearest neighbour, the Dutchman, had a fair daughter, — anyhow I would not go, and William would not go without me.

       "Now, are you satisfied that it's nothing but a howling wilderness we're in?" he asked.

       And though I did not reply, I was satisfied of it, and felt that not all the daughters of earth could bind me longer to such a place.

       "Philip Sinton, do you hear me?" William repeated. "You're a leech by training, and the son of a leech; but what earthly benefit can you ever get by hanging on like a dead ghoul to this lamentable fraud of a farm? We came West to 'grow up with the country.' How can we expect to do it by stopping in a part where never a single thing does grow? Now listen to me! I'm off this very day."

       "Where?" I asked, meditatively.

       "Where?" echoed he. "Anywhere! So long as it is not to a ranch on a boundless per-air-ie, where the life is as slow as — why, say as yon respected and costly animal."

       He indicated another of our bad bargains, a sober old mule, which had been palmed off on us at a high price as being of a breed "peculiarly adapted to the soil and climate."

       "Look here, Philip!" he went on. "Soberly, this is what I propose. You remember all the talk we heard last time we were in Scuta of the big mining boom up in the Silverbow Valley? Well, I'll just take the cars and go quietly up there before our funds run quite out, and prospect around' a little, as our friends would say. If it's no good, and just another of the gigantic frauds of this gigantic country, I'll come quietly back here, and we'll make a break together in another direction. But if it looks like paying, why then I'll stake out my claim like the rest, and you can follow up and join me. We'll leave this rich ranch of ours to the claim-jumpers; and if the rascal that jumps this doesn't thereby get full punishment for all past crimes, then my name's not William Harlow."

       In existing circumstances I really had nothing to urge against this scheme, and we set about immediately to put it into execution. It was arranged that I should go down with William to the settlement and see him start, and in an hour or two we were on our way over the prairie to Scuta.

       We reached the place late at night, and found that the West-bound train, — there was but one in the twenty-four hours — was timed to leave in the small hours of the morning. We therefore hung about the station till the train drew up, and then William took his seat and left me standing on the desolate landing. As he said "Good-bye" he promised to write to me immediately after his arrival, so that I might expect at least to hear from him within four days.

       Nevertheless as I saw the great train, so full of life and light draw away from the station and sink into the darkness, a strangely forsaken and desolate feeling stole over me, and my eyes instinctively held fast to the retreating lights until the highest of them had sunk below the distant horizon. When daylight came, I trudged laboriously back across the great dreary ring of grassy earth with a sense of utter loneliness, and when I reached the ranch I wondered at the wretched shrunken look of everything.

       The stipulated days passed heavily, and then I hastened to our nearest mail-station to fetch the promised letter.

       "No letter for you," said the post-agent.

       "Oh yes, there is," I replied; "my name is Philip Sinton."

       "I know it," answered the man. "No letter for you, I tell you!" And with that he slammed down the shutter angrily.

       My heart sank as he did so, though quite unreasonably, since in these unsettled regions there was nothing unusual in a letter being delayed. William was so thoroughly trustworthy, and so punctilious of his word, that I felt confident he had written and that of course the letter had miscarried. There was nothing for it but to return and wait patiently a little longer.

       Two days later I again made the tedious journey, only again to be disappointed. This time, however, I felt so lonely that I went out of my way in returning to call on my neighbour the Dutchman, and though I found him busy on his farm and not inclined for small gossip, I counted his daughter Mina a famous substitute, and felt quite cheered by a few minutes' chat with her. In fact such relief did I find that in future I always returned that way.

       And thus for a fortnight did I regularly every alternate day trudge off to the post, only as regularly to be disappointed. Moreover at the end of that time, when I called on the Dutchman, Mina was missing, she whose comforting words had never failed to reassure me. I hung about the place for some time in the hope that she would re-appear, and then ventured to ask her father where she might be.

       "Mein tochter hav gone afay," he answered. "Some frients hav fetched her in Bruken. Dot ish where her verliebte, — vot you call it? — her bettrotted lif, und she go recht freudig."

       You may guess, in the circumstances, with what crushing force this news fell upon me, and how cheerless were my after-journeys! Now I had to bear not only my great anxiety about William, but also a violent desire to get away immediately from the neighbourhood. And yet I dared not go, for fear that the missing letters might bear the news that my friend had met with no success and was returning. What would he think of me if he came back to find the place stripped, and no friend to welcome him? No! I must have patience for just a little longer. And thus another fortnight passed, — a more miserable time than I had ever spent before; and yet there came no news of William. Then I resolved to go in search of him, and piled together our few movables upon our only waggon ready to start. But that night my anxiety kept me awake, and when morning came I was tormented with the idea that my friend would open the door and enter at every moment, and so strong was this impression that at the slightest sound started nervously and thought "Here he comes, at last!" With such a feeling it was impossible to go, and so another day passed, and another, — and yet another. But at the end of that time I stifled my misgivings, and harnessing the old mule abandoned the ranch, as I hoped, for ever.

       We went at a mournful pace, and never had the way seemed so tedious or so long. The hot midsummer sun shone over the shelterless plain and the crickets and locusts whirred and rasped all round, while the old mule with sagging ears plodded on and on, till I seemed to fall asleep as I walked and lost all perception of the things about me. Whether I really passed into a state of somnambulism, or whether it was simply the result of the dreary suspense and loneliness of the past weeks I cannot say, but for the rest of the day my mind had constantly before it vivid and horrible pictures which I was powerless to banish. A crowd of faces seemed always to surround me, jeering, deriding, and threatening; and always I seemed to be struggling to get through them to find William, whom I knew to be just behind them, and yet I could not reach him. The cicadas' hum translated itself into n babel of voices, and once or twice I heard most distinctly above them all William's well-known call bidding me come to him. These visions struck an inexplicable terror into me, and several times I felt as though I must shout for help. But still we went wearily on and on, till at last, as the sun got low, a cooling breeze sprang up and blew with refreshing force across my brow and soothed my jaded sense, and soon the roof of a house loomed upon the horizon, and then several more. My trance was broken, and I stepped forward with fresh vigour cheering up the poor tired animal, and we entered the settlement just as night fell.

       Companionship, and a strong dose of quinine, were the first things I sought, and these soon brought me back to my normal state, and when I awoke next morning after a comfortable night's rest I could laugh at my dismal forebodings of the previous day. Nevertheless I set about hurriedly to dispose of our belongings that I might be able to take my departure by the next West-bound train. It was the West-bound Express No. 1, the same as that by which I had watched William leave me. Long before it was due I was at the station impatient to start, and I kept a weary vigil into the dark hours of the morning. At last, however, just before dawn, the train came in; "All aboard!" was called, and with a solemn tolling of the great bell on the engine we steamed away over the shadowy prairie.

       As usual on these western trains there were but few passengers in the ordinary cars, for most of the travellers were for long distances and had taken their places in the luxurious sleeping-cars. Consequently the conductor had for this stage but little to do, and bore none of the autocratic and repellent airs which characterize his class when in the full tide of their occupation, as he sauntered through the train with something of the air of a ship's master whose craft is going steadily with plenty of sea-room. He seemed, besides, a friendly, fatherly sort of man, and I found no difficulty in opening a conversation with him as he leisurely examined my ticket. My eagerness would not allow me to wait, and almost at once I broached the one subject which occupied all my thoughts. Had he any recollection, I asked, of a young man, answering to the description I gave, who boarded the train at Scuta a few weeks ago?

       "Lemme think!" said he. "Maybe I have now; yes, — I guess I have. But if he's the one I have in mind, Dan'l, my brakesman, 'll remember him sure, for they chummed together considerable durin' the journey."

       "Dan'l," he called, as the young man entered the car, "d'yew remember a smartish young coon ridin' with us five or six week ago, — boarded at Scuta dépôt? You 'en him got sorter friendly, I think."

       "That's so," answered the brakesman. "Stoutish and rayther tall, — full of colour and rayther dudish, — wore shin-wraps and tall collars, — a thorough-bred Johnny Bull, I reckon."

       "That's the man I mean," I exclaimed; and then I told them for what reason he had set off for Silverbow City, and how terribly anxious I had become at his unaccountable silence, and I begged of them to give me what help they could in tracing him.

       I noticed as I spoke that the men exchanged significant glances, but when I had finished they seemed embarrassed, and neither volunteered any remark, though I could see that both of them had something in mind which they did not care to tell. So after a moment's silence I said point-blank to the conductor: "What is it? You know something, I can see. Pray do tell me; I will thank you, even for bad news.

       "Well," said the conductor hesitatingly, "it ain't exactly bad news, but there's gettin' somethin' mighty cur'ous about this thing. It's right here; your friend ain't the only man missing that went to Silverbow; within the last few weeks there's been at least five or six." "Seven!" put in Daniel. "Seven is it, Dan'l? Seven men that we're aware of that's disappinted their friends same as you're disappinted. Now, it ain't onusual in these onsettled parts for men to drop out, an' Silverbow's a hot place just now anyhow, but yet I can't think it's come to that, that they shoot newcomers up there just for fun; and the sort o' men that we've been chiefly asked about warn't the kind that looked likely to raise a dust and get hurt. That's just what fetches us, ain't it, Dan'l? They're mostly all quiet solit-ary men, that didn't seem to have no cussedness in 'em."

       "You bet that's so," said Dan'l. "Why, that last one, — him from way back there at Winchester, Fremont County — I guess I'd gone any money on him for a man to avoid trouble; and he left word back there he'd write faithful soon as he landed, and never a word did they hear. Then that other from Michona, — same kind exactly, they might have been brothers and he went awhile before, leaving a girl he was sweet on, and she's been asking me every time we pass through if I could hear anything about him. Mighty curious, you bet!"

       Naturally the news did not tend to allay my fears, and it was with a trembling heart that I asked my sympathetic acquaintances whether they suspected any foul play.

       "Why, for sure you can scarcely help it," the conductor replied. "Only there again I'm beat. It don't look like plunder. Men going up alone prospecting to Silverbow don't as a usual thing carry much along, — nor when they come down either for that matter," he added. "En' it seems to me that there ain't a road-agent goin' but could tell that with half an eye. No! these men must be de-tained, and I don't profess to know how."

       "But surely," I asked, "I'm not the first to go in search, am I?"

       "No, indeed," replied the conductor. "We've had two others along lately on the same biz, en' I guess you'll find one of 'em up in Silverbow now, — leastwise he ain't come down this road. The other did; en' he tell me he'd traced his man into Silverbow City, en' beyond that not a single sign could he find."

       Beyond this the men could tell me nothing, though I could see they were both willing to do all in their power to help me. One thing, indeed, they were quite certain of, that William was still in the train when they left it at the end of their division.

       And here it must be explained that on these marvellous trans-continental lines the journey is split up into sections, or divisions as they are called — generally starting and ending at some "city" of more or less importance, — in fact, tending to make their terminals into "cities." Each section represents ten or twelve hours of continuous travel, at the end of which a longer stop than usual is made and the entire personnel of the train is changed, bringing a fresh set of officials on duty. The distance between Scuta and Silverbow embraced two — or rather, we may say, three, — of these divisions, since Silverbow itself lay some distance off from the main line, and was reached by a branch, starting from the city of Whaycom which was the terminal of a division on the trunk line. Thus it was that these men's certain knowledge of William's movements reached only for less than half the distance between Scuta and Whaycom, but they promised to do what they could to assist me beyond.

       In spite of my distress, I began to be strangely attracted by the grotesqueness and magnificence of the scenery. We had left the grand monotony of the prairies behind and were now traversing the foothills, and as our labouring engines climbed slowly over the broken edges of the plateaux, the clear morning sun glowed upon peaks, turrets, and battlements striped with such strong rich tints as I had never seen on rocks before, while broad warm shadows filled the deep valleys which lay between. I went out upon the platform of the car, and gazed until the whole scene seemed a strange mirage and no reality. And soon we reached the crest and looked over a billowy land to where the Rocky Mountains pierced the horizon.

       And now we approached the end of the division, and drew up at the usual straggling group of wooden sheds which form the new Western city, and here my friends announced their departure. I thanked them for their kindness, and expressed a hope that I should find their successors as well-disposed towards me.

       "There now!" said the conductor with a laugh, "I hope you will; but I tell you, you'll have to look mighty pert if you mean to keep square with Dick Quanton, — that's him that takes my place. He's a mighty queer man, sure-ly, and there's cert'n things that he's took strong to, and cert'n things he's against, — and one of 'em he's against is Englishmen. He talks that one of his great-great-grandfathers was shot by the Britishers, and he hates all Johnny Bulls for that, — though to me it do seem a thin thing to hate a man for. Anyhow, that's him; and he'll spot you for a Johnny soon as ever be claps eyes on you, and onless he's in a mighty good humour you'll find him a terror, — leastwise I'll be surprised if you don't. But here's your tip, — his bark's worse'n his bite. You just keep peaceable, and like enough he'll come round and do what he can for you before you reach Whaycom. Anyhow I'll give you a fair start with him, and after that you must rustle."

       He was as good as his word, and when a little later the two came into the car together to check off the passengers, he suavely told the formidable Dick, as they examined my ticket, on what errand I was bound, and asked him if be had any recollection of a passenger answering to my description of William having passed along on his way to Silver bow.

       "What the h—– have I got to do with his business?" was Dick's violent comment, as he seemed to work himself into quite an unnecessary rage. "D'you expect me to keep a reckoning of all the passengers that travel this road? How is it likely I'd remember him? There's scores of Johnny Bulls come along West-bound every week, d—–'em, en' the less they have to say to me the better I like it!" — and then he passed on.

       My friend gave me a comical look of sympathy as he left the car, and signed that he could do nothing more for me, and shortly after we were again tearing onward.

       I was too much annoyed with the gross incivility of the man to take any further notice of the new conductor, and I determined to make no fresh attempt to approach him, since I did not see that his help could be of any consequence whatever to me, for I had not the slightest reason to doubt that William had reached Silverbow. Indeed as the afternoon wore on I had banished the man from my thoughts, and was dreamily gazing from the car-windows upon the shadowy mountain masses which now loomed up just ahead, when I felt a tap on my arm, and turning saw that he had seated himself opposite to me.

       "Say, mister," said he, in an altered submissive tone, "I hope you're not going to cut up rough because of what I said 'way back there; you must 'xcuse that. You see, first coming aboard a train a conductor has a terrible deal to think about, and night-work ain't improving to a man's temper."

       I had an instinctive dislike for the man, and there was something false and fawning in his tone; but I could scarcely refuse his proffered apology, and so expressed myself satisfied.

       "Come, now, that's kind of you," he went on. "Well, respectin' this friend of yours. You see, I've been pestered several times lately by people comin' along and wantin' to know this and that and the other about other people, seemin' as if they thought I was a paid tracker, and it was partly that that riled me when I knew what you were after. But it has come to me as I've been walking these cars that I do remember somethin' about a young fellow such as you're lookin' for, — Johnny Bull warn't he?"

       "Yes, he was English," I said.

       "I reckon it's the same. As a rule I don't take no stock in Johnny Bulls, seein' what my family's suffered from them; but this young man had a nice free way with him, somethin' like you, and he was strangely taken up with the scenery, much as you might be, and me and him had considerable chat together."

       "Did he go through with you?" I asked.

       "Cert'nly! My division ends right there at Whaycom where he'd got to change for the Silverbow branch, and we left the car together. I recollect him asking me which was the Silverbow train, and he made straight for it, and that's the last I saw of him. Mean to say you ain't heard of him since?" he asked.

       "Not a word," I answered, and as I did so I wondered more than ever what it was in this man's face which repelled me so powerfully.

       "Well, that's strange," he went on. "But Silverbow's a particular hot place, — par-tic-ular hot — and a man's got to walk terrible straight, and not to wink either, if he means to keep clear of the hard citizens; and they're particular rough on tender-feet, thinkin' the place is fillin' up too fast. But you cheer up; like enough you'll find him easy; I'm acquainted up there, and I'll put you right with some people 'll help you if any one will."

       But even this unexpected kindness did not conquer my feeling of repugnance, and when in talking he leaned forward as if to put his hand on my knee, I involuntarily shifted so as to avoid it. He noticed the movement and I could see resented it, and a curious expression crossed his heavy sodden features. But his irritation was only momentary, and he resumed the conversation, though with an abrupt change of subject.

       "You like sceneries?" he asked.

       "Indeed I do," I replied, "when it is as fine as this."

       "Ah, but we've not got among it: yet," he said. " Further on now there are some sights! There's one place in particular, — would you like to see it?" he asked abruptly, and as he spoke he fixed his restless eyes intently on mine.

       Not until then did I discover what it was which gave the strange expression to his face, and now I suddenly noticed that the pupils of his eyes were slightly distorted, and that one was distinctly larger than the other. At the same time there came strongly over me the impression that his face was familiar to me, but for the moment I strove in vain to recollect where I had seen it, though I felt sure that it had been in disagreeable or painful circumstances. I asked him absently what the view was that he so much wished me to see.

       "The place is just before we fetch Whaycom," was his reply. "We cross a long trestle over Lake Kalipaw, and right there, if you know where to look, you can see the finest view in the Rockies; and it's just lucky for you you're coming along at full moon when there's light enough to show the snow-mountains behind the lake."

       He was so enthusiastic in his description that I felt interested in spite of myself, and told him that I should indeed like to see that view, and asked him, if I fell asleep, to rouse me when we reached the place. It seemed to please him that I requested this of him.

       "You bet I will," he said ardently. "It's just my particular favourite show on this road, and I don't like any one that's a friend of mine to pass without seeing it, — leastwise if he's fond of sceneries."

       He sat a little longer, and pointed out to me a few places of interest as we thundered along through the darkening day, but nevertheless I felt quite relieved when he got up and left me. My long journey began to tell upon me; I felt weary and depressed, and longed for sleep. But it was in vain that I assumed the easiest positions and closed my eyes determinedly; sleep would not come save in short fitful snatches which seemed only to increase my feverishness. When night fell the car became insufferably close and hot, and when I shut my eyes the jarring of the train began to shake all kinds of ugly visions over my brain; the same ring of faces was closing round me as had tormented me upon the prairie, again I heard William's voice calling to me out of the uproar, and all at once I recognised in one of the faces the uneven eyes of Conductor Dick. With a strong effort to control my wandering senses I got up and paced the car, but still the vision clung to me. What could it portend? I kept asking myself; though all the time my reason and experience told me that it was but the result of an exhausted over-harassed frame, and that my wild notion that this man's face was among those which had appeared to me on the prairie was only an idle trick of the imagination and memory.

       To get rid of the suffocating feeling I stepped out upon the platform of the car into the cool rush of air. It was a perfect night. The still white moon had risen and was shining upon the waters of a swift river whose course we followed. Dark, pine-clad slopes were vaguely outlined above us on either hand, melting imperceptibly upward into slumbering mountains whose massive tranquillity rebuked our clamorous hurry. Once more under this benign influence my fancies vanished and my mind recovered its composure. Yet I would not venture again within, but wrapping my coat tighter round me to keep out the cold, watched the miles fly past. I scarcely know how long I had stood thus, when I started nervously at feeling a hand on my arm, and saw that it was Conductor Dick, who had opened the car-door unheard and now stood beside me on the narrow ledge.

       "Wondered where you'd got," he said. "But you do right to come out here, it's pleasanter than inside. But 'say now, I hope you weren't worrying yourself about your pard; don't do that now — a man's easy lost sight of in this country, and I warrant you'll find him all right before long. Jest come along! We'll be on the trestle in a few minutes, and you can't see what I want you to see from here. We'll have to be on the rear platform so as to look right behind."

       I turned to follow him mechanically, and we passed through two cars to the last of the train, a long dining-saloon in which the evening meal had been served. This was locked and in darkness, but Dick carried the key and we entered and hurried through it between the little tables gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

       "There!" he said, closing the door behind us carefully as we stepped out at the other end and looked back upon the open track; "I reckon we'll be all right here, eh? Now, if I can't show you somethin' directly that'll beat all you ever saw, why just say my name ain't Dick."

       As he spoke the rapid pace of the train upon the steep down-grade was checked, and we came quickly to a stand-still.

       "What is it?" I asked.

       "We're just entering upon the Kalipaw trestle," he replied. "The driver's got to stop dead before touchin' it, by orders, fear he shook the whole darned thing to pieces, — like enough he will some day as it is, — and he's got to cross not faster than five miles to the hour. That gives us time enough, any how, eh?"

       As he spoke we began to crawl steadily forward, and I noticed that we were leaving the steep valley-side and were heading straight for a fair sheet of water which lay glimmering far below us. In the uncertain light it seemed from the rear as though our massive vehicles were launching out upon a cautious flight in air, but the loud groaning and creaking of the timbers showed that we had entered upon the trestle. To a traveller accustomed only to the more enduring railroad construction of Europe there is nothing more striking, — and to the timid more terrifying, — than the manner in which, on the western lines, these slim-looking structures are thrown across lake, river, and valley. A mere open scaffolding of timber, just wide enough at the top to carry the rails, seems sufficient in the eyes of the American engineer for any emergency. So long as he can find a sound foundation into which to fix or drive his piles, it seems to matter not to him to what height, or for what distance he may have to carry the superstructure, and he rapidly raises an intricate net-work of beams which mutually prop and support each other like a puzzle. Of such construction was the edifice upon which we had now entered. The long and shallow Lake Kalipaw lay right athwart the track, and the trestle crossed from shore to shore at its narrowest part. Its length might be about half a mile, and its height above the water fully sixty feet. The track was of course single, and the timbers on which it rested did not project more than two feet on either side, so that as we passed along the broad cars seemed quite to overhang the water.

       It was indeed a magnificent spectacle which opened before us from the bridge. As we moved slowly on, a range of snowy peaks marched into view, one by one, at the further end of the lake, and shone ghostly over the dark forests below. My eyes wandered over the placid waters to these distant peaks, and for the moment I forgot everything. But my rapture was quickly broken by Dick's excited tones. Turning quickly, I found him leaning with out-stretched neck over the handrail, with his eyes riveted upon the water.

       "See!" he cried. "There he goes, — there he goes! Where's my shooter?"

       "What is it?" I asked, looking in vain for the cause of his excitement.

       "Don't you see it? Don't you see the wapiti?" he shouted. "There, man, there! — right below us, swimming the lake!"

       I grew as excited as he was and hung from the platform beside him, vainly striving to catch sight of the elk.

       "See! He's heading straight for the bridge," he cried! "Here, man, stand right here on the step! Quick, or you'll loose him! Gim'me your hand, and then you can lean well forward! No, your other hand. You needn't grab the rail. I'll hold you fast enough!"

       Confused and hurried, I leaned forward as he directed, but still held fast to the rail.

       "See him now?" he screamed; and at that instant I felt his fingers nervously tearing at mine, and before I could realise what he meant, I was flung suddenly forward and fell headlong from the car.

       Fortunately when I felt his hand on mine my fingers had instinctively tightened their grip of the rail, and it was this alone which saved me from instant destruction. As it was my whole weight fell on my arm with a jar that nearly dislocated it, but I was instantly aware that my life was at stake, and hung dangling with a grip like death. A second later I had twisted myself about and seized with my other hand the edge of the platform, and not till then had I time to look up.

       In a confused way I thought it must have been some sudden oscillation of the car which had thrown me from my feet, and I gasped to my companion for help. But even as I did so, I saw with horror that I was doomed. The glaring eyes and distorted face of a maniac hung over me, and he was even then striving with convulsive fury to crush my clenched fingers with his heavy boot while in his free hand his revolver was waving close over my head. That one glance was enough — I saw it all now! Fool that I was, not to have seen it before! Those unequal eyes, — the sinister look I had shrunk from — the capriciousness and excitement — were they not tokens clear as noonday? The most unobservant might have recognised them; and yet, I, whose training should at least have guarded me, had heeded them not, and had placed my life in the hands of a deliberate and cunning homicidal maniac.

       I screamed for help, — but I knew it could not come. My voice was lost amid the creaking of the trestle and the rumble of the train; and even had it reached the occupants of the nearest car, what chance had I? The bolted door of the dining-car divided us, and my fate was a question of seconds! I groaned in utter helplessness; and then the madman's foot crushed down upon my fingers and broke them from their hold, and I fell.

       Yet again was a brief respite vouchsafed me. In falling I had struck heavily upon a supporting beam, and the motion of the train threw me forward across it, leaving me precariously balanced. One leg hung loose between the sleepers, but the other rested across the rail and sustained me as I lay maimed and dazed.

       But still I was not to escape! The ping of a pistol-shot and a sudden hot pain in my shoulder roused me. and I saw my enemy, a few yards away, hanging over the rail of the slowly retreating train, revolver in hand, deliberately taking aim at me as I lay helpless. Again came the ping and a puff of white smoke from the platform, and a bullet rang on the metals close to my head. Again, — and I shrieked, — the bullet had entered my thigh. Then consciousness must have left me; for when I looked up, the train had gone and even the reverberation of the rails had ceased. I was alone, and still hanging from the trestle. with the full moon above me and the restless waters below.

       Slowly the events of the night came back to me and I began to realise my position. Every moment gave me exquisite pain, but I seemed to have no broken bones and managed to drag myself into a more secure position. Then I lay quiet awhile, thinking. The awful strain I had passed through caused a momentary feeling of positive happiness and security to float over me. But alas! it soon faded. What could I do! Wounded and fainting, on a narrow bench barely wide enough for me to balance upon, with an open network of cross-beams and the gurgling water below. To lose my hold was to be dashed to death among the timbers, and to fall, a lifeless corpse, into the lake. To lie where I was meant certain death from the next string of cars which passed. Yet how to escape! To cross the long interval which separated me from either shore was a feat I should have hesitated to attempt even in broad day with all my vigour — to do so in my present state was utterly impossible. I shouted till my voice grew weak, but I knew it was hopeless. The steep cliff-like shores were untenanted, and probably the nearest houses were in Whaycom, a full mile beyond the trestle. And in the hurry and bustle of the train's arrival at that town I might be sure that I should not be missed by any one.

       And with that there came a new terror upon me. Suddenly I remembered that the mad conductor's term of duty ended there, — that it was there he dwelt, — that he knew his plan of flinging me clean off into the lake had failed. With his devilish craftiness would he not come back to make sure, — to shove my body off into the water if I was dead, and if not to —–?

       Even as these thoughts flashed upon me I felt a slight tremor in the rail, and heard a distant hollow sound as of a footstep on the timbers. I had always obstinately refused to carry arms, counting myself secure in peaceful intentions. How I cursed my folly now! How easy to have feigned dead, and to have dropped the madman in his tracks when he approached! And that distant tap, tap, tap on the timbers was growing clearer and clearer! Already I could discern against the sky the figure of a man on the bridge; and who but that madman would venture across it at such an hour? Could I do nothing for my life? There were still some minutes before he would be able in this uncertain light to distinguish me among the timbers. Must I let that precious interval pass without one effort? I peered over the edge of my beam and saw that from either end of it a cross-tie sloped inward at a sharp angle and disappeared into an entanglement of shadows. Were it possible for me to reach those shadows I might lurk there unobserved while my enemy passed overhead! But how to reach them? There was just one chance, — a fearful chance! Might it not be possible to drop upon the cross-tie and slide along it? I must try; — if I fail — well, 'tis but the inevitable result another way; that is all.

       The pain, as I dragged myself to the outer edge of my bench, was almost greater than I could bear, and smothered groans would escape me. And then? In vain I probed the space below me with my uninjured leg, the sloping surface of the cross-tie was still some feet beyond, and to lower myself with my crippled hands was utterly impossible. Nearer and nearer came the footsteps. Now, or never! I closed my eyes in prayer, and flung myself off in the direction of the beam.

       It was indeed a desperate throw, but I won! I fell across the timber, and, quite helpless, shot swiftly along it. For one moment I swayed dangerously, then brought up suddenly and violently, and found myself jammed safe in the angle between the sloping surface and an upright, almost directly under the rail. I dared not move, scarcely breathe; and hung, limp and awkward, just as I had slipped, while above me I heard the steady, calculated tread approach.

       It was he, sure enough! I heard his voice and shuddered. Had he heard me? He was muttering impatiently, and when he was nearly overhead he paused. Distinctly I could hear his words. "Reckon it was somewhere hereabouts. Oughter see the carcase, d—– him. Squirmed off, and fallen in, I reckon; not likely he'd catch among the timbers. D—– him for this trouble," he shouted in sudden anger, "d—– him, I say. What cause had he to hang and kick? What better was he than th' others, that he need put up his games on me? Nine before, and never a hitch; and now a —– circus like this? But he was a Johnny Bull and he did it to spite me!" Then his voice fell again into a madman's cunning chuckle. "Fancy now, the boys hearin' my gun, — wouldn't have thought it! But there's nothin' unready about Dick, that there ain't! Dick 'll go one better than the gang,-won't we, Dick 1 Reckon now there ain't a man won't talk when he gets home about that elk he saw in the water that Dick Quanton fired at!" And then, still chuckling, he went on a few steps, and I could not catch his words. But he seemed irresolute and came back again, evidently anxiously scanning the lake. Suddenly he broke into a loud dicordant laugh. He had caught sight of my hat, which in my last struggle had dropped off and fallen into the water. "Ha, ha! There he goes, there he goes!" he shouted. "Promised you you would find your friend! Guess you've done it, eh, you Johnny Bull!"

       Alas! this was what I had been dreading ever since I found myself lying on the trestle! This then had indeed been my poor friend's fate! Even in the midst of my terror and pain I mourned him. To think that fine light-hearted lad should have fallen victim to this wretched maniac I Surely this was the cruellest blow of all.

       The sight of my hat seemed to have calmed and satisfied the bloodthirsty wretch, and he went contentedly back. But he had done his worst, and I scarce cared to notice that his footsteps were gradually receding. Absolute silence settled down around me.

*       *       *       *      *

       "Steady, mates! Steady! He ain't a stiff yet!"

       With this voice in my ears I opened my eyes, to find that it was broad daylight and that I was being tenderly hoisted to the bridge by a group of men who were looking down on me with sympathetic faces, while the one who spoke was slung by my side and was supporting me.

       Gradually, like the memory of a frightful dream, my sufferings unrolled themselves before me and I moaned. Whereupon, even in mid-air, my companion applied to my lips a flask of acrid whisky, and this so far revived me that when we reached the track I was able to give some kind of an account of what had happened to me. Significant nods and glances passed from man to man when Dick Quanton's name was mentioned, and I could see that in spite of their horror and dismay the majority believed that I had told the truth. Only one suggested that I was a "dead-beat" tramp who had been stealing a ride and had fallen off the brake of a passing train, and he was promptly silenced. Indeed the general belief in my honesty took rather an awkward form, for as they bore me off the trestle each man insisted that I should drink from his flask, and the result was that before we had reached the town I was once more incapable either of speech or motion, and I verily believe that their vile whisky came near doing what the mad conductor had failed to do. However my condition was credited to my injuries, and they pitied me the more for it.

       I learnt afterwards that I owed my rescue to the bridge-patrol, who noticed fresh blood-stains on the timber in the course of his daily examination of the structure, and on searching closely for the cause, detected what he believed to be the dead body of a man upon the cross-tie. But for the prompt aid which he called up, I am inclined to think his prognosis would have been correct.

       Dick Quanton was supposed to be asleep in bed when the officers entered his house to arrest him. But when they reached his room he was, ready for them, and in the terrible struggle which followed his madness revealed itself clearly enough to all of them, — indeed two of the men will bear the evidence of it to their dying day. From the investigation which ensued it appeared that his family and friends had long known that he was a prey to strange illusions, but they regarded, or affected to regard, them as innocent. Perhaps it was because he had always been a dangerous man to meddle with, that they did not care to interfere. He was, of course, passed on from the prison to the madhouse, and died soon after of general paralysis.

       The number of his victims was never accurately known, but in my own mind I have no doubt that the number I heard him mention was the true one. They were probably all despatched within a period of six or seven weeks, and poor William must have been one of the first. Many other travellers afterwards recalled that he had tried, on one excuse or another, to tempt them to the rear-platform. These were all men who were travelling alone and were bound for the Silverbow region, for, with that diabolical cunning which characterised all his actions, the madman sought only to entrap those who were not likely to be soon missed.

       None of the bodies were recovered, nor was it likely that they would be, for the strong current which sets through the narrows would carry anything falling from the bridge into the deeper recess of the lower basin. But a close examination of the central portion of the trestle yielded ample confirmation of my story. Many of the outstanding lower buttresses bore here a blood-stain, and there a few clotted hairs or a shred of clothing, showing where the falling men had struck upon them. From this it may be supposed that in most cases death would be swift and merciful.

       When after a long and tedious convalescence I at last regained my strength, it need scarcely be told that I had had enough of the West, and was only too glad to leave the country altogether and to return to my friends at home. But my nerves have never quite recovered, and even now, only with grave discomfort can I undertake a railroad journey, and it is only in rare cases of absolute necessity that I adopt this mode of travel at all. Certain am I that I shall not again on any excuse venture aboard a West-Bound Express.

GEORGE FLAMBRO.      

(THE END)