The face of the menaced boy was very pale, but he did not cower before that suddenly infuriated mob. He showed that he had nerve, for he stood up and faced them boldly, helpless as he was. Burchel Jones, the detective, looked as if he would give something to get away from that locality in a hurry. A black scowl came to the face of Hank Kildare, and his hands dropped to his hips, reappearing from beneath the tails of his coat with a brace of heavy, long-barreled revolvers in their grasp. The muzzles of the weapons were thrust right into the faces of the men nearest, and the sheriff literally thundered: "Git back thar, you critters, or by thunder, thar'll be dead meat round hyar! You hyar me chirp!" Lona Dawson, the banker's daughter, was badly frightened by the sudden outbreak of the mob, and, with her older companion, she retreated into the waiting-room of the station. "Death to Black Harry!" A man with strong lungs howled the words above all the uproar and commotion. "Bring the rope!" screamed another. And then, as if by magic, a man struggled to the shoulders of those about him, waved a rope in the air, and yelled: "Hyar's ther necktie fer Black Harry!" And then, once more, there was a roar, and a surge, and a struggle to get at the handcuffed boy. "Stiddy!" sounded the voice of Hank Kildare. "Back! back! back! or, by the eternal skies, I'll begin ter sling lead!" But twenty hands seemed reaching to clutch the lad and drag him away. The sheriff saw that he would not be able to retain his prisoner if he remained where he was. "Inter ther station, boy!" came from the giant sheriff's lips. "It's yer only chance ter git clear o' this yar gang!" "Howly shmoke!" cried a familiar voice just behind the handcuffed youth. "Pwhat are they doin' wid yez, Frankie, me b'y?" "Yes," quavered another voice, likewise familiar, "what is this crazy mob trying to do? This is something appalling!" "Barney! Professor!" cried the boy, joyously. "Now I can prove that I am what I claim to be!" "I've got him!" A big ruffian roared the words, as he fastened both hands upon the manacled lad, and tried to drag him into the midst of the swaying mob. "Thin take thot, ye spalpane!" shouted the Irish boy, who had appeared in company with a little, red-whiskered man at the door of the station. Out shot the hard fist of the young Irishman, and--smack!--it struck the man fairly in the left eye, knocking him backward into the arms of the one just behind him. "It's toime ye got out av thot, me b'y," said Barney Mulloy, as he grasped the imperiled youth by the collar, and drew him into the waiting-room of the station. "That's right, that's right!" fluttered the little man, who was Professor Scotch. "Let's hurry out by the back door, the way we came in. We were detained, so we did not arrive in time for the train, but we came as quickly as we could." "And arrived just in time," said Frank. "I am in a most appalling position."