“Here’s the stuff!” he yelped, tossing a package on the table. “Nothing to hold us and we’re going right back. So long.” Parsly breathed more freely. Sometimes a mixup over freight, or a hot-box, kept the train, with the men careless of the passing minutes, as they had no schedule to make on the return run to Waverly, the first station, where they would hold the siding for the night. Outside, the rain was falling with a thunderous clamor, smearing the window panes till it was impossible to make out the switch-lights directly in front of the station. Parsly rose, his eyes glittering. The money must be concealed safely till the morrow. He had never read Poe’s story of the purloined letter, yet instinct urged a simple hiding-place. He decided on the greasy canvas coat, hung back of the door. He wore it only when cleaning the switch-lamps. The package fitted nicely into one capacious pocket. No one would ever find it there. Now to arrange the stage settings, the overturned furniture, the open door-- The door opened. Four men were crowding in through the miniature waterfall released from the loaded eaves. Parsly eyed them as one entranced, his gaze frozen with horror. It was no physical fear he dreaded, but for the moment it seemed as if his evil purpose had escaped him and now stood crystallized into tangible shapes, each a unit of wickedness. “Nail the mutt!” sharply ordered the leader, a man with a heavy shock of red hair. One of the men twisted Parsly’s arm behind him and thrust an iron wrist under his chin. Two others stood near, one holding a revolver, the other caressing a “life-preserver.” The leader was glancing about the office. All this occurred in a single motion, yet it seemed to cover ages to the stupefied agent. It was the red-headed man’s prowling gaze that brought Parsly to his senses. They were yeggmen--Fresno Red and his gang. They were after the money and the leader was seeking the safe. The man who had seized the agent was deciding he had never in all of his strong-arm jobs encountered so thoroughly frightened a victim as now, when Parsly’s chin hugged in and his strong teeth bit deeply into his captor’s wrist, causing him to scream with pain. At the same instant, the agent’s long leg kicked out, overturning the table and the one lamp. The room was plunged in darkness and the man with the revolver discharged his weapon, evoking a shriek of mortal agony, but not from the agent. Fresno Red called loudly for a light while he attempted to strike a match. Parsly had the advantage; he knew one of the robbers was dead or seriously wounded, and while every man was his enemy in the darkness, the yeggmen feared to injure a pal. “Block the door and window!” roared Fresno Red.