Bert Wilson in the Rockies | Page 5

shot up in a tremendous smashing uppercut. The man staggered
back, and Bert and Dick were on him like a pair of wildcats.
At the same instant, with all the power of his trained baseball arm, Tom
had hurled the heavy paperweight straight at the outlaw captain. It
caught him full between the eyes. His pistol fell from his hand, going
off as it did so, and he crumpled up and went down to the floor in a
heap.
It was all over in a second. The whole thing had been so perfectly timed,
brain and hand had worked in such absolute unison that disaster had
come on the outlaws like a bolt from the blue. It was "team work" of
the finest kind.

The first surprise over, the other men in the car came crowding to the
assistance of the chief actors in the scrimmage. But the danger was past.
The leader was unconscious, and the other, badly beaten and cursing
horribly, was helpless in the grasp of the victors. Train men, rushing in,
took charge of the prisoners and trussed them up securely.
A posse was hastily organized among the passengers and, heavily
armed, swarmed from the train in quest of the two remaining members
of the band, who had been left to guard the engineer and fireman. The
miscreants saw them coming, however, and realized that the game was
up. They emptied their pistols and then flung themselves upon their
horses and galloped off, secure for the time from further pursuit.
The conductor, still pale and shaken from excitement, gave the signal.
There was a scramble to get aboard, the whistle tooted and the train
once more got under way.
In the Pullman there was a wild turmoil, as the relieved passengers
crowded around the boys and wrung their hands in congratulation.
They couldn't say enough in praise of the courage and presence of mind
that had turned the tables so swiftly and gallantly. The spoils were
retrieved and distributed among the rightful owners, and then, with a
bow of mock politeness, the old sombrero, empty now, was clapped on
the head of the baffled collector, who received it with a new string of
blasphemies.
By this time the victim of Tom's unerring aim had gradually struggled
back to consciousness. His arms and feet had been securely tied and his
remaining revolver had been taken from his belt. Of a stronger mold
than his accomplice, he disdained to vent his rage in useless
imprecations and relapsed into silence as stoical as an Indian's. But, if
looks could kill, the boys would have been blasted by the brooding hate
that shot from under his jutting brows.
"I'm glad it didn't kill him, anyway," said Tom, as, after the tumult had
somewhat subsided, they once more were seated and the train was
flying along at full speed.

"It's a wonder it didn't," responded Dick. "It was a fearful crack."
"Tom hasn't forgotten the way he used to shoot them down from third
base to first," laughed Bert. "That right wing of his is certainly a
dandy."
"It's lucky it is," said the conductor, who had just returned from giving
directions concerning the prisoners; "and talking about wings," he
added, turning to Bert, "there's no discount on yours. That fist hit like a
sledgehammer. The way you fellows piled into him was a crime. I
never saw a prettier bit of rough house.
"But the beauty of it all," he went on, "was the way you worked
together. If any one of you hadn't 'come through' at the same second,
the jig would have been up. Who figured it out?"
"Here's the slow thinker that did it," said Dick, clapping Bert on the
shoulder.
"That's the bonehead, sure enough," echoed Tom.
"Oh, come off," growled Bert, flushing a little and fidgeting uneasily in
his seat. "There was a whole lot of luck about it, anyway. If we hadn't
had the paperweight, all the thinking in the world wouldn't have done
us a bit of good."
"If you hadn't had the thinking, all the paperweights in the world
wouldn't have done us a bit of good," corrected Tom.
"Well, there's glory enough for all," smiled the conductor. "The main
point is that you fellows have put me and the company under a load of
gratitude and obligation that we can never repay. Call it quick thinking,
quick acting, or both--you turned the trick."
"It had to be a case of 'the quick or the dead,'" grinned Tom.
"Sure thing," assented the conductor. "You were the quick and those
two rascals are the dead. Or will be before long," he added grimly. "I'll

turn them over to the sheriff at the next station. There's a hand bill in
the baggage car describing a band of