At length a long-drawn whistle from the locomotive attached to Freight Number 73, warned Rod and his fellow-prisoner that the time for them to make a combined effort for liberty was at hand.  It also notified the curious watchers at the station of the approach of the train for which they were waiting.  The trainmen were surprised at the unusual number of people gathered about the station, and the evident interest with which their arrival was regarded.  At the same time those composing the little throng of waiting spectators were amazed, as the train drew up and stopped, to hear loud cries for help proceeding from a car in its centre.

“It’s number 50!” exclaimed one, “the very car we are looking for.”

“So it is!  Break open the door!  Some one is being murdered in there!” shouted other voices, and a rush was made for the car.

As its door was pushed open, by a dozen eager hands, a wretched-looked figure, who had evidently been pressing closely against it, and was unprepared for such a sudden movement, pitched out headlong into the crowd.  As he staggered to his feet he tried to force his way through them, with the evident intention of running away; but he was seized and held.

For a moment the whole attention of the spectators was directed toward him, and he was stupefied by the multitude of questions showered upon him at once.  Then some one cried “Look out!  There’s another in there!” and immediately poor Rod was roughly dragged to the ground.  “Take them into the waiting-room, and see that they don’t escape while I examine the car.  There may be more of the gang hidden in there,” commanded the station agent.  So to the waiting-room the prisoners were hustled with scant ceremony.  As yet no one knew what they had done, nor even what they were charged with doing; but every one agreed that they were two of the toughest looking young villains ever seen in that part of the country.

During the confusion, no one had paid any attention to the arrival, from the west, of a locomotive drawing a single car.  Nor did they notice a brisk, business-like appearing man who left this car, and walked, with a quick step, toward the waiting-room.  Every one therefore looked up in surprise when he entered it and demanded, in a tone of authority, “What’s the trouble here?”

Instantly a murmur was heard of, “It’s the superintendent.  It’s the ‘super’ himself”; and, as the crowd respectfully made way for him, a dozen of voices were raised in attempted explanation of what had happened.  As no one really knew what had happened, no two of the voices told the same story; but the superintendent catching the words “murderers, thieves, tramps, brakeman killed, and car robbed,” became convinced that he had a most serious case on his hands, and that the disreputable-looking young fellows before him must be exceedingly dangerous characters.  In order to arrive at an understanding of the case more quickly, he ordered the room to be cleared of all except the prisoners, the station agent, and the trainmen of Freight Number 73, whom he told to guard the doors.

He first examined the conductor, who was as surprised as any one else to find that he had been carrying two passengers of whom he knew nothing on his train.  He had no information to give, excepting what Conductor Tobin had told him, and what the superintendent had already learned by telegraph, of Brakeman Joe’s condition.  The other trainmen knew nothing more.

The station agent told of the despatch he had received, of the finding of the lads in car number 50, and that its contents were apparently untouched.

Here the superintendent dismissed the trainmen, and ordered Freight Number 73 to go ahead.  Then, with new guards stationed at the doors, he proceeded to question the prisoners themselves.  As Bill, the tramp, seemed to be the elder of the two, he was the first examined.  In answer to the questions who he was, where he came from, and what he had been doing in car number 50, Bill said, with exactly the manner he would have used in addressing a Police Justice: 

“Please yer Honor we’s pards, me an’ him is, an’ we’s bin tendin’ stock on de road.  We was on de train last night when it was attackeded by a lot of fellers who was beatin’ de brakeman.  We went to help him, an’ was chucked inter de car, an’ de door locked on us.  We’s bin tryin’ to get out even since, me an’ him has, yer Honor, but we couldn’t make nobody hear us till we got here.  We’s nearly dead for food an’ drink, yer Honor, an’ we’s honest, hard-working boys, an’ dat’s de truth if I die for it, yer Honor.  He’d tell yer de same, but fer a bit of a difference me and him had when he swore to git even wid me.  So maybe he’ll lie now; but yer Honor can depend on what I’m ­”

“That will do,” interrupted the superintendent.  Then turning to Rodman he asked, “What have you to say for yourself?”

“If you’ll please give me a drink of water I’ll try to tell all I know of this affair,” answered the boy huskily, now speaking for the first time since he had been taken from the car.

When the water was brought, and Bill had been given a drink as well as himself, Rod continued, “I was a stockman on that train in charge of a horse” ­

“Jest as I was a-tellin’ yer Honor,” murmured Bill.

“And there was a fight with tramps, who attempted to rob the car in which we were found.”

Here Bill nodded his head approvingly as much as to say “I told you so.”

“But this fellow was one of them, and he helped make a prisoner of me, and to bind and gag me.  He would have thrown the freight out of the car to those who were waiting outside to receive it, if I hadn’t succeeded in closing the door, and locking us both in ­”

“Ooo! didn’t I tell yer Honor he’d maybe lie on me?” protested Bill.

“Keep quiet!” commanded the superintendent sharply, and then to Rod he said:  “How can you prove your statements?”

“I can prove that I was bound and gagged by these marks,” replied the boy, pointing to the sides of his mouth which were red and chafed, and holding out his swollen wrists for the superintendent’s inspection.  “And I can prove that I was travelling in charge of a horse by this.”  Here Rod produced the note from Juniper’s owner, asking his brother to pay the bearer two dollars and a half upon the safe delivery of the horse.

“I have a paper too,” broke in Bill, fumbling in his pockets.  From one of them he finally produced a dirty note, signed by a Western cattle dealer, and authorizing one Bill Miner to take charge of certain stock about to be shipped over the New York and Western railroad.

The superintendent read the two notes, and looked at the two young fellows.  In general appearance one was very nearly as bad as the other; for, though Rod did not realize the fact, his clothing and person were so torn and dirty from the fight of the preceding night and his subsequent rough experience, that he looked very nearly as much of a tramp as Bill himself.

“I wonder which of you I am to believe, or if either is telling me the truth?” said the superintendent dubiously, half aloud and half to himself.