Thus it happened that although Rod had eaten his breakfast that morning in a prison cell he ate his dinner in the pleasant dining-room of the sheriff’s house with that gentleman, the dear old lady, and Juniper’s owner, for company.  It was a very happy meal, in spite of the fact that the real train robber was still at large, and as its conversation was mostly devoted to the recent occurrences in which Rod had been so prominent an actor, his cheeks were kept in a steady glow by the praises bestowed upon him.

Directly after dinner Juniper’s owner took his departure and soon afterwards a special train arrived from Millbank.  It consisted of a locomotive and a single passenger coach in which were a number of New York and Western railroad men.  They came in answer to the sheriff’s request for witnesses who might identify the train robber.  Among these new arrivals were Snyder Appleby who had been sent from New York by Superintendent Hill to investigate the affair, Conductor Tobin who, after taking the Express Special to the end of his run, had been ordered back to Millbank for this purpose, his other brakeman who had hurried ahead at the first opportunity from the station at which he had been left, the fireman of the locomotive with which Rod had chased the robber, and several others.

As this party was ushered into the sheriff’s private office its members started with amazement at the sight of Rod Blake sitting there as calmly, as though perfectly at home and waiting to receive them.

Upon their entrance he sprang to his feet filled with a surprise equal to their own, for the sheriff had not told him of their coming.

“Well, sir!  What are you doing here?” demanded Snyder Appleby, who was the first to recover from his surprise, and who was filled with a sense of his own importance in this affair.

“I am visiting my friend, the sheriff,” answered Rod, at once resenting the other’s tone and air.

“Oh, you are!  And may I ask by what right you, a mere brakeman in our employ, took it upon yourself to desert your post of duty, run off with one of our engines, endanger the traffic of the line and then unaccountably disappear as you did last night or rather early this morning?”

“You may ask as much as you please,” answered Rod, “but I shall refuse to answer any of your questions until I know by what authority you ask them.”  The young brakeman spoke quietly, but the nature of his feelings was betrayed by the hot flush that sprang to his cheeks.

“You’ll find out before I’m through with you,” cried Snyder savagely.  “Mr. Sheriff I order you to place this fellow under arrest.”

“Upon what charge?” asked the sheriff.  “Is he the train robber?”

“Of course not,” was the reply, “but he is a thief all the same.  He is one of our brakemen and ran off with a locomotive.”

“What did he do with it?” asked the sheriff, with an air of interest.

“Left it standing on the track.”

“Oh, I didn’t know but what he carried it off with him.  Did he leave it alone and unguarded?”

Snyder was compelled to admit that the engine had been left in charge of its regular firemen; but still claimed that the young brakeman had committed a crime for which he ought to be arrested.

“I suppose you want me to arrest that fireman too?” suggested the sheriff.

“Oh, no.  It was his duty to accompany the engine.”

“But why didn’t he refuse to allow it to move?”

“He was forced to submit by threats of personal injury made by this brakeman fellow.  Isn’t that so?” asked Snyder, and the fireman nodded an assent.

The sheriff smiled as he glanced first at the burly form of the fireman and then at Rod’s comparatively slight figure.  “Can any of these men identify this alleged locomotive thief?” he asked.

“Certainly they can.  Tobin, tell the sheriff what you know of him.”

Blazing with indignation at the injustice and meanness of Snyder’s absurd charge against his favorite brakeman, Conductor Tobin answered promptly:  “I know him to be one of the best brakemen on the road, although he is the youngest.  He is one of the pluckiest too and as honest as he is plucky.  I’ll own he might have made a mistake in going off with that engine; but all the same it was a brave thing to do and I am certain he thought he was on the right track.”

“Do you know him too?” asked the sheriff of the other brakeman.

“Yes, sir.  I am proud to say I do and in regard to what I think of him Conductor Tobin’s words exactly express my sentiments.”

“Do you also know him?” was asked of the fireman.

“Yes, I know him to be the young rascal who ran me twice into such a storm of bullets from the train robber’s pistols that it’s a living wonder I’m not full of holes at this blessed minute.”

“What else did he do?”

“What else?  Why, he jumped from the engine while she was running a good twenty mile an hour, and started off like the blamed young lunatic he is to chase after the train robber afoot.  Wanted me to go with him too, but I gave him to understand I wasn’t such a fool as to go hunting any more interviews with them pistols.  No, sir; I stuck where I belonged and if he’d done the same he wouldn’t be in the fix he’s in now.”

“And yet,” said the sheriff, quietly, “this ‘blamed young lunatic,’ as you call him, succeeded in overtaking that train robber after all.  He also managed to relieve him of his pistols you seem to have dreaded so greatly, recover the valuable property that had been stolen from the express car, and also a fine horse that the robber had just appropriated to his own use.  On the whole gentleman, I don’t think I’d better arrest him, do you?”