An underling flings open the door of the furnace. He staggers back. Empty! He rushes with a shovel to the coal bunkers. The others rush after him. Oh, there’s no coal! The train’s slowing down every minute. The desperadoes are riding nearer and nearer. We can hear the thunder of their hoofs—I mean their horses’ hoofs. (Noise off—cloppety, cloppety, cloppety, clop.)
Ah! what are they doing now? They’re going to throw one of the underlings into the furnace to keep the train going. They’re going to burn the engineer and the chief mate. They’re going to pull the engine to pieces and burn that. Anything to escape. Anything to escape....
Suddenly the chief mate, who’s looking through the eyehole, gives a great shout. He’s very excited and relieved. He’s speaking—listen, look, I mean.
Flick:
WHY IT’S ONLY THE SHERIFF’S BOYS
HAVING A GAME WITH US!
The others do not agree with him. They point rudely at him, and curse him for a fool. But he only smiles and says through his smile:
Click:
SURE—IT’S THE SHERIFF RIGHT
ENOUGH. I SEEN HIS LIL’ BUTTON.
HIS DEPUTY’S WITH HIM.
I DONE SEE HIS BUTTON, TOO.
They rush to the eyeholes again. There’s no doubt this time. They throw up their hats and cheer. They are beside themselves. They even go so far as to pull up the train. The passengers crowd to the windows. At first they are alarmed. They shrink back. They mutter among themselves. Click:
IT’S A HOLD-UP.