“Di—id they rob the passengers?” stammered Emma Dean.
“In some of the cars, yes. In my car they did not. I held them off with my revolver. I——”
“That was very careless of you. Why, sir, you might have shot yourself,” cried Stacy.
Mr. Holmes gave the fat boy a withering glance and resumed his story.
“After my display of courage the other passengers got brave, and with their assistance I drove the bandits off. However, I should not advise it. For the average person, the safe course is to sit still and take his medicine. Gentlemen, never offer resistance when a gang of bandits orders you to put up your hands, but put them up as fast as you can and let them stay put,” he added, fixing his gaze on Tom Gray who smiled and nodded.
“Yes, sir,” agreed Chunky. “That’s the way I always do.”
“Were you ever held up?” questioned the salesman.
“Many times. I put up my hands too, but there was a gun in both of ’em,” answered Stacy amid much laughter.
At this juncture a passenger asked the storyteller to tell them more about the hold-up, which he did without urging.
“The train in question was carrying a treasure, just as this one no doubt is. The bandits had obtained information of this fact from a confederate. They were right on the job when the train came along. After stopping the train they placed men at the car door to take up a collection from the passengers. All submitted tamely, as they should have done, except in the car where I was, and—we are approaching Summit now. From that point we go down grade for twenty miles or so, then we begin to climb again. We stop at Summit.”