"Darned if I've got a cigar. Sam, you're young and nimble. Go buy me one at the counter." "Sure." Cullison was away on the instant. Curly's hand came out of his pocket. In it was a paper. Quickly he shook the contents of the paper into the steaming cup of coffee and stirred the liquid with a spoon. Sam brought back the cigar and drank his coffee. Without any unnecessary delay they returned to his room. Before the party had climbed the stairs the boy was getting drowsy. "Dunno what's the matter with me. I'm feeling awful sleepy," he said, sitting on the bed. "Why don't you take a snooze? You've got lots of time before the train goes." "No, I don't reckon I better." He rubbed his eyes, yawned, and slumped down. His lids wavered, shut, jerked open again, and closed slowly. "Wake me, Curly--time for train." And with that he was sound asleep. They took off his boots and settled him comfortably. In his pocket they found a black mask big enough to cover his whole face. The registered letter could not be found and they decided he must have destroyed it. The sight of the mask had given Curly an idea. He was of about the same build as Sam. Why not go in his place? It would be worth doing just to catch sight of Soapy's face when he took the mask off after the robbers had been captured. "What's the use?" Davis protested. "It's an unnecessary risk. They might shoot you in place of Sam." "I'll look out for myself. Don't worry about that. Before the time for getting rid of Sam comes Mr. Soapy and his bunch will be prisoners." They argued it out, but Curly was set and could not be moved. He dressed in young Cullison's clothes and with Maloney took the express at 9:57. Davis remained to guard Sam. Curly's watch showed 10:17 when the wheels began to grind from the setting of the air brakes. He was in the last sleeper, Dick in the day coach near the front. They had agreed that Dick was to drop off as soon as the train slowed down enough to make it safe, whereas Curly would go on and play Sam's part until the proper time. The train almost slid to a halt from the pressure of the hard-jammed brakes. A volley of shots rang out. Curly slipped the mask over his face and rose with a revolver in each hand. He had been sitting at the end of the car, so that nobody noticed him until his voice rang out with a crisp order. "Hands up! Don't anybody move!" An earthquake shock could not have alarmed the passengers more. The color was washed completely from the faces of most of them. "Reach for the roof. Come, punch a hole in the sky!" To do it thoroughly, Curly flung a couple of shots through the ceiling. That was enough. Hands went up without any argument, most of them quivering as from an Arkansas chill. Presently Cranston herded the passengers in from the forward coaches. With them were most of the train crew. The front door of the car was locked so that they could not easily get out.