“It won't do you any good to get the pouch, for there isn't
anything valuable in it.”
“We are to be the judges of that, so throw us the valuables
or catch a bullet. Which shall it be, Billy?”
The two men stood directly in front of the pony-rider, each
one covering him with a rifle, and to resist was certain death.
So Cody began to unfasten his pouches slowly, while he said,
“Mark my words, men, you'll hang for this.”
“We'll take chances on that, Bill.”
The pouches being unfastened now, Cody raised them with one hand, while he said in an angry tone, “If you will have them, take them.” With this he hurled the pouches at the head of one of them, who quickly dodged and turned to pick them up, just as Cody fired upon the other with his revolver in his left hand.
The bullet shattered the man's arm while, driving the spurs into the flanks of his mare, Cody rode directly over the man who was stooping to pick up the pouches, his back turned to the pony-rider.
The horse struck him a hard blow that knocked him down, while
he half fell on top of him, but was recovered by a touch of
the spurs and bounded on, while the daring pony-rider gave
a wild triumphant yell as he sped on like the wind.
The fallen man, though hurt, scrambled to his feet as soon as he could, picked up his rifle, and fired after the retreating youth, but without effect, and young Cody rode on, arriving at the station on time, and reported what had happened.
He had, however, no time to rest, for he was compelled to start back with his express pouches. He thus made the remarkable ride of three hundred and twenty-four miles without sleep, and stopping only to eat his meals, and resting then but a few moments. For saving the express pouches he was highly complimented by all, and years afterward he had the satisfaction of seeing his prophecy regarding the two road agents verified, for they were both captured and hanged by vigilantes for their many crimes.
* * *