“I didn’t post any,” Fulsbee answered simply.  “I sent these two men of mine running around the thicket.  Then they had to come together and attend to handcuffing you fellows.”

“And were you the only man who had the drop on us?” gasped ’Gene Black.

“I was,” Dave Fulsbee responded.  “If you fellows hadn’t had such bad nerves, you could have escaped.  But it’s an old story.  When men go bad their nerves go bad with them.”

As for Black’s followers, now that they knew the nature of the trick that had fooled them, several of them hung back.

“You fellows needn’t think you can balk now,” observed Fulsbee grimly.  “You’re all of you handcuffed, and there are enough of us to handle you.  I promise you that, if anyone of you tries to run away, I won’t run after him until I’ve first tried dropping him with a shot.”

So the party proceeded, and in time reached Lineville.  There was great excitement in that little junction town when the citizens first heard of the dastardly work that the prisoners had attempted.

Dave marched his captives into the waiting room of the station.  All outsiders were ushered forth politely.  Mr. Newnham was hurriedly summoned, and to him Tom Reade disclosed what he had learned of the work of enemies along the line.  Naturally the president of the S.B. & L. was greatly excited.

“We knew something was wrong, from the nature of the telegraph messages that came in,” cried Mr. Newnham.  “It was your friend, Hazelton, who first suggested the idea of sending a full train down the line, with a short pilot train ahead.”

“Good, great old Harry!” murmured Tom admiringly.

Both Fulsbee and the president of the road tried to question ’Gene Black.  That treacherous fellow, however, steadfastly refused to talk.  Two or three of his gang were willing enough to talk, but they knew little, as Black had carried all his plans and schemes in his own head.

“No matter!” muttered Dave Fulsbee.  “My two men and I were close to that thicket for some time before we broke in on the affair.  We heard enough to supply all the evidence that the courts will want against these worthies.”

As the futile questioning was drawing to a close, ’Gene Black suddenly roused himself to say sneeringly: 

“Gentlemen, look at your station clock.  It’s fifteen minutes before midnight.  A quarter of an hour left!  Where’s your through train?  If it reaches here fifteen minutes from now it will be too late.”

“Send a message down the line quickly,” gasped Mr. Newnham, turning pale.  Then he wheeled savagely upon the prisoner, exclaiming:  “I forgot, Black.  You rascals cut the wires.  We could have mended them at the nearer point, but the wires were cut, too, at the scene of the blow-out.  Oh, but you have been a thorn in our sides!”

From the crowd that still lingered outside came a cheer.  Tom Reade sprang to the nearest door, throwing it open.