“You mean—?” I exclaimed.

“That’s it.  I’m goin’ away, and I’ll leave the door unlocked.  If yer get clear let me know yer address, and later, if I want yer, I’ll send yer word.”  He took a grip on my fingers that numbed them as if they had been caught in an air-brake, and disappeared.

I slipped out after the sheriff without loss of time.  That there wasn’t much to spare was shown by a crowd with some torches down the street, collected in front of a saloon.  They were making a good deal of noise, even for the West; evidently the flame was being fanned.  Not wasting time, I struck for the railroad, because I knew the geography of that best, but still more because I wanted to get to the station.  It was a big risk to go there, but it was one I was willing to take for the object I had in view, and, since I had to take it, it was safest to get through with the job before the discovery was made that I was no longer in jail.

It didn’t take me three minutes to reach the station.  The whole place was black as a coal-dumper, except for the slices of light which shone through the cracks of the curtained windows in the specials, the dim light of the lamp in the station, and the glow of the row of saloons two hundred feet away.  I was afraid, however, that there might be a spy lurking somewhere, for it was likely that Camp would hope to get some clue of the letters by keeping a watch on the station and the cars.  Thinking boldness the safest course, I walked on to the platform without hesitation, and went into the station.  The “night man” was sitting in his chair, nodding, but he waked up the moment I spoke.

“Don’t speak my name,” I said, warningly, as he struggled to his feet; and then in the fewest possible words I told him what I wanted of him—­to find if the pony I had ridden (Camp’s or Baldwin’s) was in town and, if so, to learn where it was, and to get the letters on the quiet from under the saddle-flap.  I chose this man, first because I could trust him, and next, because I had only one of the Cullens as an alternative, and if any of them went sneaking round, it would be sure to attract attention.  “The moment you have the letters, put them in the station safe,” I ended, “and then get word to me.”

“And where’ll you be, Mr. Gordon?” asked the man.

“Is there any place about here that’s a safe hiding spot for a few hours?” I asked.  “I want to stay till I’m sure those letters are safe, and after that I’ll steal on board the first train that comes along.”

“Then you’ll want to be near here,” said the man.  “I’ll tell you, I’ve got just the place for you.  The platform’s boarded in all round, but I noticed one plank that’s loose at one end, right at this nigh corner, and if you just pry it open enough to get in, and then pull the board in place, they’ll never find you.”

“That will do,” I said; “and when the letters are safe, come out on the platform, walk up and down once, bang the door twice, and then say, ‘That way freight is late.’  And if you get a chance, tell one of the Cullens where I’m hidden.”