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Updated: June 2, 2025
"Duck low, Jim," yelled the engineer; "we will beat them yet. I've got a scheme." "I'm with you," replied Jim. This was literally true, for he was right at the heels of the scurrying Bob. As they passed the barricade of stones, Ketchel gave it a quick, searching look, then in a few strides they got to cover in a culvert a number of yards in front of the pile of stone.
"You notice we came in on time, Joe," said Ketchel, briefly. "If we are going to pull out on time, we'll have to start now. Anything I can do for your friend, Bob?" "Yes," returned Ketchel, "give him a ride through the Red Canyon." "I will," replied Joe as he climbed into his engine and the train slowly got under way. "Good-by, Jim," said Ketchel, as they gripped hands; "take care of yourself."
Meantime both had raced back to the engine. Before the gang had time to fully realize what had happened, Ketchel had regained his place in the cab and had turned the engine loose on the sanded rails. Within a remarkably short distance he had her full speed ahead, with a parting salute of shots from the enraged and baffled "hold ups." "There goes three of 'em," cried Jim, who had swung aboard.
"Well, Jim," said Ketchel finally, as he pushed his chair back from the table, and took a quick look at his watch, "the train you pass here is due in ten minutes and then you will be pulling out. Let's go outside; it's a bit too warm in here to suit me." "All right, Bob, the fresh air will seem good to both of us."
Jim watched the operation with interest while the engineer and his fireman went methodically from part to part of the engine with their long billed oil cans. "She must be late," said Ketchel, looking keenly up the track and then at his heavy, open-faced watch. "What do you suppose is the matter with her? No need of losing time on a night like this," he continued.
"Those stones are pretty heavy to lift off under fire," said Jim composedly, "but I guess we can make a go of it." "I like your nerve," said Ketchel, a gleam of admiration showing for an instant in his usually noncommittal face, "but I've got something here, that will help us in this hoisting business," and he thrust his hand into one of the pockets of his overalls. "What is it?" queried Jim.
Jim was able to keep down their fire, as his ally rushed to the barricade; then Ketchel stooped down and thrust the dynamite into an opening between the rocks and drawing off quickly threw himself flat down by the track. Then there came an upheaval that shook things.
"Well, there are numerous, romantic, little spots along the trail ahead where they might stop us for an interview," said Ketchel. "I'm thinking they will be a lurking in 'Boxwood Canyon," said Bill Sheehan, the fireman.
"'The General Denver' leaves in three minutes," called Ketchel after the retreating Jim; "wouldn't wait a second for nobody." From the fact that the locomotive was given the dignity of a real name indicates that the time of our narrative belongs to an earlier and more ornate day than this when even the biggest engine gets nothing more than a number.
Just at that moment, Bob Ketchel saw an obstruction on the track, about two hundred yards distant, and applied the air brakes instantly. He had been on the watch for just this thing, and noted that there was plenty of cover where the express was halted wherein the desperadoes could hide.
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