You want to be generous. How much do you say?

The man of the cloth reluctantly said thirty dollars, a Lincoln
penny, and a silver-plated watch inherited from his fathers. The
watch was declined with thanks, the money accepted without.

The Pullman porter came into the car under compulsion of a
revolver in the hand of a fourth outlaw, one in a black mask. His
trembling finger pointed out the satchel and suit-case of Major
Mackenzie, and under orders he carried out the baggage belonging
to the irrigation engineer. Collin observed that the bandit in
the black mask was so nervous that the revolver in his hand
quivered like an aspen in the wind. He was slenderer and much
shorter than the Mexican, so that the sheriff decided he was a
mere boy.

It was just after he had left that three shots in rapid
succession rang out in the still night air.

The red-bandannaed one and his companion, who had apparently been
waiting for the signal, retreated backward to the end of the car,
still keeping the passengers covered. They flung rapidly two or
three bullets through the roof, and under cover of the smoke
slipped out into the night. A moment later came the thud of
galloping horses, more shots, and, when the patter of hoofs had
died away--silence.

The sheriff was the first to break it. He thrust his brown hands
deep into his pockets and laughed--laughed with the joyous,
rollicking abandon of a tickled schoolboy.