“How are the air-brakes working?” asked Sinclair.

“First-rate.”

“Then, if you slow down now, you could stop the train in a third of her length, couldn’t you?”

“Easy, if you don’t mind being shaken up a bit.”

“That is good.  How is the country about the—­xth mile-post?”

“Dead level, and smooth.”

“Good again.  Now, Lieutenant Halsey, this is a splendid head-light, and we can see a long way with my night glass, I will have a—­”

“—­2d mile-post just passed,” interrupted the engine-driver.

“Only one more to pass, then, before we ought to strike them.  Now, lieutenant, I undertake to stop the train within a very short distance of the gang.  They will be on both sides of the track no doubt; and the ground, as you hear, is quite level You will best know what to do.”

The officer stepped back.  “Sergeant,” called he, “do you hear me plainly?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have the men fix bayonets.  When the train stops, and I wave my sword, let half jump off each side, run up quickly, and form line abreast of the engine—­not ahead.”

“Jack,” said Sinclair to the engine-driver, “is your hand steady?” The man held it up with a smile.  “Good.  Now, stand by your throttle and your air-brake.  Lieutenant, better warn the men to hold on tight, and tell the sergeant to pass the word to the boys on the platforms, or they will be knocked off by the sudden stop.  Now for a look ahead!” and he brought the binocular to his eyes.

The great parabolic head-light illuminated the track a long way in advance, all behind it being of course in darkness.  Suddenly Sinclair cried out: 

“The fools have a light there, as I am a living man; and there is a little red one near us.  What can that be?  All ready.  Jack!  By heavens! they have taken up two rails.  Now, hold on, all!  STOP HER!!”

The engine-driver shut his throttle-valve with a jerk.  Then, holding hard by it, he sharply turned a brass handle.  There was a fearful jolt—­a grating—­and the train’s way was checked.  The lieutenant, standing sidewise, had drawn his sword.  He waved it, and almost before he could get off the engine, the soldiers were up and forming, still in shadow, while the bright light was thrown on a body of men ahead.

“Surrender, or you are dead men!” roared the officer.  Curses and several shots were the reply.  Then came the orders, quick and sharp: 

“Forward!  Close rip!  Double-quick!  Halt!  FIRE!”

It was speedily over.  Left on the car with the men, the old sergeant had said: 

“Boys, you hear.  It’s that ——­ Perry gang.  Now, don’t forget Larry and Charley that they murdered last year,” and there had come from the soldiers a sort of fierce, subdued growl.  The volley was followed by a bayonet charge, and it required all the officer’s authority to save the lives even of those who “threw up their hands.”  Large as the gang was (outnumbering the troops), well armed and desperate as they were, every one was dead, wounded, or a prisoner when the men who guarded the train platforms ran up.  The surgeon, with professional coolness, walked up to the robbers, his instrument case under his arm.