“It always stops.”
As we talked Galvin came back to the platform and stood looking up the track. Our train now pulled out, and a few minutes later the whistle of the express was heard. Now for a real contest, I thought. Somewhere in one of those cars would be the bandit surrounded by detectives, and my duty was to get to him first, to explain who I was and begin my questioning, overawing Galvin perhaps with the ease with which I should take charge. Maybe the bandit would not want to talk; if so I must make him, cajole him or his captors, or both. No doubt, since I was the better interviewer, or so I thought, I should have to do all the talking, and this wretch would make notes or make a deal with the detectives while I was talking. In a few moments the train was rolling into the station, and then I saw my friend Galvin leap aboard and with that iron effrontery and savageness which I always hated in him, begin to race through the cars. I was about to follow him when I saw the conductor stepping down beside me.
“Is that train robber they are bringing in from Bald Knob on here? I’m from the Republic, and I’ve been sent out here to interview him.”
“You’re on the wrong road, brother,” he smiled. “He’s not on here. They’re bringing him in over the Missouri Pacific. They took him across from Bald Knob to Denton and caught the train there—but I’ll tell you,” and he consulted his watch, “you might be able to catch that yet if you run for it. It’s only across the field here. You see that little yellow station over there? Well, that’s the Missouri Pacific depot. I don’t know whether it stops here or not, but it may. It’s due now, but sometimes it’s a little late. You’ll have to run for it though; you haven’t a minute to spare.”
“You wouldn’t fool me about a thing like this, would you?” I pleaded.
“Not for anything. I know how you feel. If you can get on that train you’ll find him, unless they’ve taken him off somewhere else.”
I don’t remember if I even stopped to thank him. Instead of following Galvin into the cars I now leaped to the little path which cut diagonally across this long field, evidently well worn by human feet. As I ran I looked back once or twice to see if my enemy was following me, but apparently he had not seen me. I now looked forward eagerly toward this other station, but, as I ran, I saw the semaphore arm, which stood at right angles opposite the station, lower for a clear track for some train. At the same time I spied a mail-bag hanging out on an express arm, indicating that whatever this train was it was not going to stop here. I turned, still uncertain as to whether I had made a mistake in not searching the other train after all. Supposing the conductor had fooled me.... Supposing the burglar were on there, and Galvin was already beginning to question him! Oh, Lord, what a beat! And what would happen to me then? Was it another case of three shows and no critic? I slowed up in my running, chill beads of sweat bursting through my pores, but as I did so I saw the St. Louis & San Francisco train begin to move and from it, as if shot out of it, leaped Galvin.
“Ha!” I thought. “Then the robber is not on there! Galvin has just discovered it! He knows now that he is coming in on this line”——for I could see him running along the path. “Oh, kind Heaven, if I can beat him to it! If I can only get on and leave him behind! He has all of a thousand feet still to run, and I am here!”
Desperately I ran into the station, thrust my head in at the open office window and called:
“When is this St. Louis express due here?”