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It's 'gainst orders for you to pull out now when you're blocked, till you get further orders and yet you say go." "How can I get orders without a man or a wire at the station?" burst in Cullin, grasping at straws. "How can I get authority to take this man along? He's liable to arrest anyhow for tampering with the signals."
And if a man have a spent his whole lifetime in a pickin, and a cullin, and a coinin, and a furbishin up fine words, to tickle the ears of fine folks, why a ought in all conscience to get the wherewithalls for his pains. For if an a gentleman will eat pine apples a must not expect to pay for pippins. Always as aforesaid a savin and exceptin your onnurable onnur.
And again the sponge was busily plied, and then the grimy nurse glanced upward at Cullin, now shinning down from his perch in the skylight. "His home's right ahead at Argenta. Breifogle's the name." "Breifogle!" shouted Cullin, aghast. "Why, that's the big brewer, banker, mine-owner, and Lord knows what all that owns half of Yampah County and wants to own the rest. Could he tell who slugged him?
Moreover, the friend and person had suggested a means by which actual surrender to the situation might appear as virtual and moral victory. One more look at Shiner and then Shiner settled it. "I submit to arrest, Mr. Cullin. Let me go with you and settle." "Get aboard the caboose," was the gruff answer, and, all apparent meekness, Shiner obeyed.
Cullin would never have said what he did had he known the identity of Toomey's pupil, and Geordie argued that Cullin's gruff and insolent greeting was in reality a tribute to his powers a recognition of the fact that he looked the part he was trying to play.
He let his voice out in the old tone of authority: "You've no time to lose, Mr. Cullin. Arrest them, too, and come on!"
Then the agent turned slowly away, walked a dozen steps, looked back, and called: "I'll tell 'em what you say, but you'd better come yourself. Narrow Gauge'll get 'the Old Man' on the wire presently, then you'll have to. I'm betting they hold you here till you do." "Not if I know myself or my orders," growled Cullin, as he returned, black-browed, to the cab.
"Yes," he said, loudly, so that Cullin could hear "yes, I understand.... Don't worry.... You're with friends.... Tell us your name and home.... What? Try once again.... Bry what? Oh, Breifogle?... Yes. Argenta? That's just where we're going. We'll be there very soon. Don't try to talk more now."
There could be no signals no sending of a message. Half the distance had they gone, panting and straining, barely fifteen miles to the hour. Broad daylight, and then the rejoicing sunshine, had come to cheer and gladden and revive, and Cullin shouted inquiry, as he bent down from his perch, and Graham nodded or shook his head by way of reply.
"They sha'n't have you here, anyhow. Jump for the cab." And jump they did, all three. Moved now by some indefinable sympathy he had not felt before, Cullin urged them on, and thrust the order into Big Ben's hairy fist as it swung from the window.
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