sombrero. It fell before his face like a curtain. From his neck to
his knees the poncho concealed his figure. All that was visible of
him was his eyes, laughing through the holes in the red mask.

"Behold the Red Rider!" he groaned. "Hold up your hands!"

He pulled the kerchief from his face and threw the poncho over his
arm. "Do you see these shears?" he whispered. "I'm going to hold up
the stage with 'em. No one ever fires at a road agent. They just
shout, 'Don't shoot, colonel, and I'll come down.' I'm going to bring
'em down with these shears."

Crosby caught Curtis by the arm, laughing eagerly. "Come to the
stables, quick," he cried. "We'll get twenty troopers after him
before he can go a half mile." He turned on Ranson with a triumphant
chuckle. "You'll not be dismissed this regiment, if I can help it,"
he cried.

Ranson gave an ugly laugh, like the snarl of a puppy over his bone.
"If you try to follow me, or interfere with me, Lieutenant Crosby,"
he said, "I'll shoot you and your troopers!"

"With a pair of shears?" jeered Crosby.

"No, with the gun I've got in my pocket. Now you listen to me. I'm
not going to use that gun on any stage filled with women, driven by a
man seventy years old, but--and I mean it--if you try to stop me,
I'll use it on you. I'm going to show you how anyone can bluff a
stage full with a pair of tin shears and a red mask for a kicker. And
I'll shoot the man that tries to stop me."