Some of the people on the platform observed the driver closely. One man walked past and surveyed him. This man hastened to join some of the loungers. “Say!” he exclaimed, in a hoarse whisper, “I bet ten dollars that feller’s wearin’ false whiskers!” “Git out!” retorted several. “What makes you think so?” “I seen Sile Levitt wear whiskers jest like them in the play over to the Four Corners Schoolhouse last winter.” “You’re luny! What would that man want to wear false whiskers for? He ain’t in no play.” Another carriage appeared. Mr. and Mrs. Diamond left it. They had come to meet Inza. The train whistled in the distance. In a few moments it whistled for Bloomfield station. It came rushing up to the platform and stopped. Inza and her companions were on board. In the midst of the excitement the door of the strange closed carriage opened and a pale-faced young man stepped out. He fixed his eyes on Inza, who had descended from the train. She was dressed in a brown traveling suit and was acknowledging the merry greetings of the friends who had met her. Bart Hodge had hastened away to look after the baggage. The villagers were staring agape. “Gosh!” exclaimed Bill Kimball, who had reached the station barely in time to see the passengers descend. “That’s her—that stunnin’ gal in brown! She’s got black eyes, an’ Toots told me she was black-eyed and the handsomest gal in the world. That’s her!” “Who’s that pale-faced feller that’s jest got out of that kerriage?” asked a young chap, turning his quid of tobacco in his mouth. “He’s actin’ almighty queer.” The person referred to was approaching Inza from behind, stepping softly. He was unobserved by the friends who surrounded her. Of a sudden he stepped forward, flung his arms round her, caught her from her feet and turned to dash with her toward the carriage. The door was open. The driver had his whip poised. Inza screamed. The man who had seized her flung her into the carriage and leaped after her, jerking the door closed with a slam. The whip in the hands of the driver whistled through the air and cut the horses. Away they leaped. The astounded people on the platform had seemed dazed, but now they awoke and shouted. Buck Badger, who had sauntered after Hodge, turned at Inza’s cry. He saw her flung into the carriage and saw the desperate man leap after her. “The old boy’s to pay!” cried Buck, his hand going to his hip. “That’s whatever!” Two strides brought him to the edge of the platform. As the horses turned toward the street beyond the station something bright glinted in the hand of the Kansan. This thing was leveled and a spout of smoke burst from it. The sharp report of a revolver added to the excitement of the moment. With that report one of the horses gave a convulsive leap and fell to the ground, dragging the other horse down. The uninjured animal was so entangled in the harness that he could do little damage kicking. The carriage was overturned.