rattled on. "That," I said, "is a dead man."

"Humph!" he laughed. "Jolly good company for such a night. I say, Bowen,
you've got a nice toy there," and he took up the pistol that lay on the
table. In the meanwhile I had scrawled on piece of paper, which I had
quietly placed near the pistol: "The man in the box is a burglar. Be
ready for an attack."

"Oh that's the game!" he said aloud, and instantly strode across the
room, as Cato sprang up and barked furiously at the box. Simultaneously
the top of the box flew up, and uttering a shrill whistle, the man
sprang to a sitting posture, while through the wide-flung door the
other two ruffians appeared with pistols cocked, At once there began a
deadly struggle. The dog had leaped upon the box and knocked the "dead"
man's pistol out of his hand, as Frank shouted, "Toho Cato!" unwilling
that the dog should tear him to pieces, but wishing to keep him at bay.

"Your keys!" yelled the other men; "or by heavens, you'll drop!"

Instantly closing in, man to man, the fierce struggle went on amid
shouts, oaths and pistol shots.

"Call off your cursed dog!" screamed the "dead" man continually.

The encounter, which had occupied scarcely a minute, was at its
deadliest, both Frank and I endeavoring to disarm rather than kill, when
the whistle of the train sounded, and in another moment the conductor
and his men were among us, "Seize that scoundrel!" shouted Frank
breathlessly, indicating the man in the box. "Here Cato!" and the
obedient animal unwillingly retired, but continued his savage growl.