“You’re on the wrong train,” said Kit.  “The cattle train is on the other track.”

The fellow soon regained his balance, and came rushing back like a charging bull.

“You little snipe!” he roared, “I’ll kill you for that.”

But as he got near Kit dodged into the space between the seats, and as the fellow rushed past, carried on by the momentum of his run, Kit swung at him with his right fist.

It caught the fellow back of the ear, and the force behind the blow, as well as the rate at which he had been coming, sent him headlong between two seats, where he lay crumpled up like a rag.

The commotion had attracted the attention of Bud and Ben, and they were by Kit’s side in a moment.

“Need any help?” asked Bud.

“Not a bit,” replied Kit.  “I’m not very large, but no man of that sort can call me a pup.”

The fellow lay where he fell, and Bud warned away several passengers who wanted to go to his assistance.

“He’s all right,” he said.  “A crack like that never injured any one permanently, but sometimes it wakes them up ter ther foolishness of insulting a lady when ther broncho boys are around.”

Kit lifted his hat to the young lady.

“Pardon me for making a disturbance,” he said.  “I don’t think you’ll be bothered again.”

The young lady was profuse in her thanks, and resumed her seat.

Presently the fellow on the floor got up and sneaked into another car, without looking again at either Kit or the young lady.

“Hello, Kit!  What was it all about?” asked Ted entering the car.

“Oh, I never could stand for red neckties, nohow,” answered Kit apologetically.

When the train stopped for dinner they all trooped into the station dining room, and secured for themselves a long table, around which they sat like a big and happy family.

As Ted and Kit were walking along the platform toward the dining room Ted suddenly halted and stared at a man who was leaning against the wall of the station.

“By Jove, I believe it’s him!” he muttered.

“Who’s him?” asked Kit.

“The express robber, Checkers,” answered Ted.  “And yet I’m not sure.  If it is him it’s one of the best disguises I ever saw.  Look at your friend of the red necktie hurrying up to him.  By Jove, they’re a good pair!  I wish I could hear that fellow in the checked suit speak.”

“That fellow will get caught up yet if he persists in wearing checked suits,” said Kit.  “It seems to be his badge, or a disease with him.”

“I suppose that’s why they call him Checkers,” said Ted.  “I wish I knew.  I’d take a chance at arresting him.”

At that moment the man in the checked suit looked up and caught Ted and Kit staring at him.

Hastily calling the attention of the man with the red necktie to them, he hurried around the corner, and the other followed.