we shall be late to ouh breakfast."

Winton walked back to the station at the heels of his captor,
cudgeling his brain to devise some means of getting word to Adams.
Happily the Technologian, who had been unloading steel at the
construction camp, had been told of the arrest, and when Winton
reached the station he found his assistant waiting for him.

But now the train was at hand and time had grown suddenly precious.
Winton turned short upon the marshal.

"This is not a criminal matter, Mr. Biggin: will you give me a moment
with my friend?"

The ex-cowboy grinned. "Bet your life I will. I ain't lovin' that old
b'iler-buster in the private car none too hard." And he went in to get
the passes.

"What's up?" queried Adams, forgetting his drawl for once in a way.

"An arrest--trumped-up charge of trespass on that mining claim up
yonder. But I've got to go to Carbonate to answer the charge and give
bonds, just the same."

"Any instructions?"

"Yes. When the train is out of sight and hearing, you get back over
there and drive that track-laying for every foot there is in it."

Adams nodded. "I'll do it, and get myself locked up, I suppose."