long, strong arms clasped him from behind, and he was lifted from his feet and thrown, face downward upon the grass. There was a heavy knee pressing against his back, and an iron hand grasping each of his wrists. He was held thus, like a child, until the engine had taken water, and until the train had moved, with accelerating speed, out of sight. Then he was released, and rose to his feet to face Bill Longley.
“The case never needed to be fixed up this way, Tom,” said Longley. “I saw Cooper this evening, and he told me what you and him talked about. Then I went down to your house to-night and saw you come out with your guns on, and I followed you. Let’s go back, Tom.”
They walked away together, side by side.
“’Twas the only chance I saw,” said Merwin presently. “You called your loan, and I tried to answer you. Now, what’ll you do, Bill, if they sock it to you?”
“What would you have done if they’d socked it to you?” was the answer Longley made.
“I never thought I’d lay in a bush to stick up a train,” remarked Merwin; “but a call loan’s different. A call’s a call with me. We’ve got twelve hours yet, Bill, before this spy jumps onto you. We’ve got to raise them spondulicks somehow. Maybe we can———Great Sam Houston! do you hear that?”
Merwin broke into a run, and Longley kept with
