“Ye make me tired, Chuck.”
“Ho-o-o—hum-m-m-m-m! I hope Slim decides to wait until mornin’. Yuh can’t do nothin’ in the dark, anyway.”
And that was just what Slim Caldwell decided to do. He went to the depot and talked with the train crew and messenger, getting all the details as they had seen them, and then came back.
The train went on, all of an hour off its regular schedule.
Slim didn’t have the slightest hope of catching the lone bandit, who had had over half of the night to make his getaway. To the east of the tracks, only a couple of miles away, was the lava country, a land of broken lava where little grew, and where a man might hide away for an indefinite length of time.
The man was alone on the job, which would make it even more difficult than if it had been done by a gang. The description given by the three men might cover half of the men in the valley. There had been nothing conspicuous about the man’s actions or apparel. He wore a large black hat, dark shirt, overalls tucked in the tops of his boots.
“Sweet chance to find that whipperwill,” sighed Slim. “Half the men in the valley dress thataway, and they all pack guns.”
“Look for a man wearin’ a black mask,” suggested Chuck.
“And carryin’ a million dollars,” grinned Scotty. “How much did he get, Slim?”
“Nobody knows. The messenger didn’t talk much, but the engineer told me that the man was loaded down with stuff—and they don’t ship pig-iron nor spuds in that through safe.”