gang nearly all those hounds that tried to hang me. Why do you ask,
Major?"

Sinclair handed him the despatches. "You are the only man on the train
to whom I have shown them," said he.

Foster read them slowly, his eyes lighting up as he did so. "Looks as if
it was true," said he. "Let me see! Fort----. Yes, that's the--th
infantry. Two of their boys were killed at Sidney last summer by some of
the same gang, and the regiment's sworn vengeance. Major, if this
story's on the square, that crowd's goose is cooked, and _don't you
forget it_! I say, you must give me a hand in."

"Foster," said Sinclair, "I am going to put responsibility on your
shoulders. I have no doubt that, if we be attacked, the soldiers will
dispose of the gang; but I must take all possible precautions for the
safety of the passengers. We must not alarm them. They can be made to
think that the troops are going on a scout, and only a certain number of
resolute men need be told of what we expect. Can you, late this
afternoon, go through the cars, and pick them out? I will then put you
in charge of the passenger cars, and you can post your men on the
platforms to act in case of need. My place will be ahead."

"Major, you can depend on me," was Foster's reply. "I'll go through the
train and have my eye on some boys of the right sort, and that's got
their shooting-irons with them."

Through the hours of that day on rolled the train, till over the crisp
buffalo grass, across the well-worn buffalo trails, past the prairie-dog
villages. The passengers chatted, dozed, played cards, read, all