Kilduff and Shorty Rhinehart, crouching against the grade, were splintering the windows one by one with nicely placed shots.  The baggage-cars were farther up the siding than Silent calculated.  He and Haines now ran towards the head of the train.

The fireman and engineer jumped from their cab, holding their arms stiffly above their heads; and Haines approached with poised revolver to make them flood the fire box.  In this way the train would be delayed for some time and before it could send out the alarm the bandits would be far from pursuit.  Haines had already reached the locomotive and Silent was running towards the first baggage-car when the door of that car slid open and at the entrance appeared two men with rifles at their shoulders.  As they opened fire Silent pitched to the ground.  Kate set her teeth and forced her eyes to stay open.

Even as the outlaw fell his revolver spoke and one of the men threw up his hands with a yell and pitched out of the open door.  His companion still kept his post, pumping shots at the prone figure.  Twice more the muzzle of Silent’s gun jerked up and the second man crumpled on the floor of the car.

A great hissing and a jetting cloud of steam announced that Haines had succeeded in flooding the fire box.  Silent climbed into the first baggage-car, stepping, as he did so, on the limp body of the Wells Fargo agent, who lay on the road bed.  A moment later he flung out the body of the second messenger.  The man flopped on the ground heavily, face downwards, and then—­greatest horror of all!—­dragged himself to his hands and knees and began to crawl laboriously.  Kate ran and dropped to her knees beside him.

“Are you hurt badly?” she pleaded.  “Where?  Where?”

He sagged to the ground and lay on his left side, breathing heavily.

“Where is the wound?” she repeated.

He attempted to speak, but only a bloody froth came to his lips.  That was sufficient to tell her that he had been shot through the lungs.

She tore open his shirt and found two purple spots high on the chest, one to the right, and one to the left.  From that on the left ran a tiny trickle of blood, but that on the right was only a small puncture in the midst of a bruise.  He was far past all help.

“Speak to me!” she pleaded.

His eyes rolled and then checked on her face.

“Done for,” he said in a horrible whisper, “that devil done me.  Kid—­cut out—­this life.  I’ve played this game—­myself—­an’ now—­I’m goin’—­to hell for it!”

A great convulsion twisted his face.

“What can I do?” cried Kate.

“Tell the world—­I died—­game!”

His body writhed, and in the last agony his hand closed hard over hers.  It was like a silent farewell, that strong clasp.

A great hand caught her by the shoulder and jerked her to her feet.

“The charge is goin’ off!  Jump for it!” shouted Silent in her ear.