This was too much. Blindly Elder turned to escape. Instantly both pistols were once more at his head. And in final abject surrender he slowly rubbed the black car-grease upon his cheeks.
“Very good. A little on the forehead now,” directed the relentless tramp. “Now the ears.
“Go on!... Very good.
“Now you may go.”
Frantically Elder spun about and dove between the cars. As he did so, behind him roared out six quick pistol shots.
Blindly he scrambled under the next train. Shouts rose ahead of him. “Help, help!” he cried. “Tramps! Tramps! Help!”
From the boarding-cars broke out a hubbub of excitement. “Tramps! Tramps!” he shrilled, scuttling beneath the third train.
On the other side he suddenly pulled up. He had forgotten his outlandish appearance! What if—
Men sprang into view from between the cars farther down. “Here he is!” they shouted, instantly heading for him.
“It’s me! Elder!” cried the apparent tramp.