“We’ll get a passenger train out of Cheyenne, kid, if we can duck Jeff Carr,” said Smiler. “Never heard of him? He’s a railroad bull and he’s ‘bum simple’—simple-minded on the subject of killing bums. If you run he’ll shoot you; if you stand he’ll get you six months, and he’d rather have you run.”
I learned all about Carr later, and his feud with the bums. They made many efforts to kill him, but never succeeded. He was later put in charge of the railroad’s train-robber detail, but he never killed any train robbers and the bums rambled through Cheyenne in peace.
We got a train out without falling foul of the murderous Carr and rode the baggage into a division point where there was a twenty-minute stop for dinner. Looking around for a place to get coffee, we passed a jewelry store. The jeweler was working at his bench in front. When we got to the alley, Smiler said: “We’ll make that tray of watches in the window, kid. You get a handful of rocks, go around to the back, and throw them against the jeweler’s door till he opens it. When he does, I’ll make the front. Don’t throw them too hard and scare him. Easy—just enough to make him curious.”
I followed instructions and was preparing to throw the fourth rock when the door opened. The jeweler stepped out and took a good look around. I walked down the alley to the street, and soon caught up with Smiler, who was stepping away briskly.
“We’ve got to plant this junk, kid. We can’t take chances luggin’ it around.”
We were in the yards now and Smiler was looking at the cars curiously as we passed between them. He stopped beside a car of coal and looked at the card tacked on it. “Billed to Butte, Montana,” he said, “this’ll do.” He tied the watches, which he took from his coat pocket, in a big handkerchief. We climbed up on the car and the parcel was planted in one corner and plenty of coal put back on top of it. On the ground again, Smiler tore off a corner of the destination card. “Don’t forget that, kid; in case anything happens to me you’ll know this car.”
This was all accomplished in less than twenty minutes, and we had plenty of time to catch our passenger train, which we did, leaving our plunder behind but sure to follow.
“He may not miss that junk till he goes to close up, kid, or he may have missed it already. Anyway we’ll sure be stuck up and frisked at Evanston. All we have to do is tell the truth, say we rode this rattler out of Cheyenne and never left the yards at Rock Springs. And they won’t hold us. They can’t figure that we could touch that joint and go out on the same train. We’ll stop at Evanston anyway and wait for our coal car. Then, instead of going to Salt Lake, we’ll ride the freight over the cut-off to Pocatello and I’ll get the coin on that junk in an hour from Mary.”
“Who’s Mary?” I asked.
“Wait till you see her, to-morrow. She’ll buy anything from a barrel of whisky to a baby carriage.”