"Shut that door, and call the superintendent and be quick! Charley, brace up—lively—and come and write this out!" With his wonderful electric pen, the handle several hundred of miles long, Watkins, unknown to his interlocutor, was printing in the Morse alphabet this startling message:
"Inform'n rec'd. Perry gang going to throw No. 17 off
track near—xth mile-post, this division, about nine to-morrow
(Thursday) night, kill passengers, and rob express and mail.
Am alone here. No chance to verify story, but believe it to be
on square. Better make arrangements from your end to block
game. No Sheriff here now. Answer."
The superintendent, responding to the hasty summons, heard the message before the clerk had time to write it out. His lips were closely compressed as he put his own hand on the key and sent these laconic sentences: "O.K. Keep perfectly dark. Will manage from this end."
Watkins, at Barker's, rose from his seat, opened the door a little way, saw that the station was empty, and then said to the girl, brusquely, but kindly:
"Sally, you've done the square thing, and saved that train. I'll take care that you don't suffer and that you get well paid. Now come home with me, and my wife will look out for you."