ON THE FRINGE 311 



happened to notice a military guard, armed to the 

 teeth, established in the guard's van. 



An inquiry of the immaculately-dressed and 

 haughty conductor, who apparently controlled, for 

 the time being, the destinies of the car in which I 

 happened to be travelling, as well as those of all its 

 passengers, elicited the locally notorious fact that 

 Wyoming road-agents had recently been at work. 



' There was a train held up down Rawlins way last 

 week, mister,' said the official in question : ' where 

 in thunder do you hail from, that you haven't heard 

 of it ?' 



I meekly responded that I was fresh from England. 



He then became more tolerant and communicative. 



' Yes, sir,' he went on, ' they cleaned out the 

 passengers right enough, and got away with $50,000 

 of Uncle Sam's money as well. But we wouldn't 

 have minded that so much, only they put some rocks 

 on the line and come darned near wrecking the train 

 into the bargain.' Then, after a pause, he continued : 

 ' It's either the James boys or Big-nosed George and 

 his gang that done it. But we'll have it into 'em 

 before long. My best girl was on that train, I 

 remember, and they swiped what few dollars she had, 

 besides laying to wreck the cars. Fortunately, the 

 driver had his eyes skinned, and pulled up just in 

 time.' Then he concluded : ' And now you know 

 what the boys with the guns are on the train for, I 

 reckon, mister.' 



We proceeded on our leisurely way up the foot-hills 

 of the Great Divide, through snow-sheds, over trestle 

 bridges, up and ever upwards along the single line 

 of the Union Pacific Railroad and past the summit 

 station or depot, until we came without mishap to the 



