I preferred to take his advice, and lay quiet while the cowboys gathered.  From all directions I heard them coming, calling to each other that “the skunk that shot the woman is corralled,” and other forms of the same information.  In a moment I was jerked to my feet, only to be swept off them with equal celerity, and was half carried, half dragged, along the tracks.  It wasn’t as rough handling as I have taken on the foot-ball-field, but I didn’t enjoy it.

In a space of time that seemed only seconds, I was close to a telegraph-pole; but, brief as the moment had been, a fellow with a lariat tied round his waist was half-way up the post.  I knew the mob had been told that I had killed a woman in the hold-up, for the cowboy, bad as he is, has his own standards, beyond which he won’t go.  But I might as well have tried to tell my innocence to the moon as to get them to listen to denials, even if I could have made my voice heard.

The lariat was dropped over the cross-piece, and as a man adjusted the noose a sudden silence fell.  I thought it was a little sense of what they were doing, but it was merely due to the command of Baldwin, who, with Camp, stood just outside the mob.

“Let me say a word before you pull,” he called, and then to me he said, “Now will you give up the property?”

I was pretty pale and shaky, but I come of stiffish stock, and I wouldn’t have backed down then, it seemed to me, if they had been going to boil me alive.  I suppose it sounds foolish, and if I had had plenty of time I have no doubt my common-sense would have made me crawl.  Not having time, I was on the point of saying “No,” when the door of 218, which lay about two hundred yards away, flew open, and out came Mr. Cullen, Fred, Albert, Lord Ralles, and Captain Ackland, all with rifles.  Of course it was perfect desperation for the five to tackle the cowboys, but they were game to do it, all the same.

How it would have ended I don’t know, but as they sprang off the car platform Miss Cullen came out on it, and stood there, one hand holding on to the door-way, as if she needed support, and the other covering her heart.  It was too far for me to see her face, but the whole attitude expressed such suffering that it was terrible to see.  What was more, her position put her in range of every shot the cowboys might fire at the five as they charged.  If I could have stopped them I would have done so, but, since that was impossible, I cried—­

“Mr. Camp, I’ll surrender the letters.”

“Hold on, boys,” shouted Baldwin; “wait till we get the property he stole.”  And, coming through the crowd, he threw the noose off my neck.

“Don’t shoot, Mr. Cullen,” I yelled, as my friends halted and raised their rifles, and, fortunately, the cowboys had opened up enough to let them hear me and see that I was free of the rope.

Escorted by Camp, Baldwin, and the cowboys, I walked toward them.  On the way Baldwin said, in a low voice, “Deliver the letters, and we’ll tell the boys there has been a mistake.  Otherwise—­”