Within a quarter of a mile of Winona the fireman put all his strength on the brake-wheel and brought the engine to a stop. The four brakemen cautiously plodded up the track.
Little Rufus sat in the dark office, numb with cold and fear. Every sense was on the alert. He thought the glare of the moonlight in the snow would blind him as he gazed down the track, minute after minute, through a knothole in the shutter. At last he saw a black dot away down the track. The dot turned into four dots as it swung around the curve. They came nearer, and he could make out the burly figure of Tim Ryan and the other three brakemen, each with a gun resting across the hollow of his left arm. The four figures silently passed by the office window, and crossed over to the grain elevator. Rufus could still hear the "bink! bink! bink!" of the hammers on the steel wedges. If he had dared to follow, he would have enjoyed what happened. The door of the safe was almost off when the robbers heard Tim Ryan's soft voice bidding them "Be aisy, now, an' lift yere hands above yere heads!" The two thieves almost fell over in their surprise.
The fourth brakeman easily captured the lone robber upstairs. Little Rufus went up stairs as soon as the excited men stopped talking. When the three thieves had been tied hand and foot, and Rufus had explained to his father and mother how he had summoned help, everybody looked at him in surprise.
"Weren't you scared?" asked his father.
"So scared I could hardly hold on to the key," said Rufus. "But I was too scared to let go of it, too."
[THE JOYS OF WINTER.]
Hurrah for the joys of winter!
For the jolly sparkling weather,
For the lake like glass where the skaters pass,
For the flying flake and feather!
Hurrah for the fun of rushing
Down the long toboggan slide,
For the dash ahead of the winning sled
Round the curve of the steep hill-side!
Hurrah for the joys of winter!
Jack Frost and the boys are friends;
To the girl's bright face what a witching grace
The touch of his pencil lends!
Hurrah for the wild northwester,
And the crisp cold wintry night
When the rough wind blows and we toast our toes
In the glow of the hearth-fire's light!