Panting, they reached the machine, and clambered up on the steel platform, where the fireman and the two ground men were grouped around McCarty, who lay motionless, with his head in a little pool of blood. Charley dropped to his knees beside the prostrate lad and felt for his pulse. "He is alive, all right," he exclaimed. "We'll have to get him to camp before we can do anything for him. Bossie, how did this happen?" "Two men climb aboard while we standing still looking at fire," said the excited fireman. "McCarty no see them. I no see them. We busy watching fire, ground men busy watching fire, too. I no see them till there come a crack and McCarty falls. Man hit him over the head with a gun. Other man hit at me. I dodge. I got steam hose in my hand. I turn steam hose on two men. It burn them, plentee. They yell plentee. They drop guns. Run, plentee run." By the time he had finished his narrative, the wagon had arrived, and McCarty was gently lifted and placed in it, and the wagon headed back for camp. "Please stay by the machine, Walt," Charley requested, as he took his seat in the wagon and pillowed McCarty's head in his lap. "I'll send one of the engineers to take McCarty's place as soon as I get to camp." As soon as the wagon had gone Walter took one of the ground men's lanterns, and looked around for the guns Bossie claimed the strange assailants had dropped. He found both, half buried in the soft sand beside the car. They were Savage rifles, of the latest make, equipped with Maxim silencers. The lad ejected one of the cartridges, and prying out the bullet, examined the powder. It was high-grade smokeless. He gave one of the rifles to Bossie, much to the fireman's delight. "I think," said the Spaniard in his quaint English, "I think this be much more better than steam." The other rifle the lad gave to the ground man, with instructions to keep it always with him. He was showing them how to operate it, when Bob Bratton arrived to take McCarty's place. Bob grinned as he saw the Spaniards awkwardly handling their new weapons. "They are more likely to shoot themselves than one of the enemy," he commented, "but I guess it will make them feel safe to have a gun along with them." "How's McCarty?" Walter asked, anxiously. "Oh, he's come too, all right," answered the other carelessly. "He got a pretty good crack over the head, but it didn't break the skull any. He'll be all right in a couple of days. Meanwhile," he added, with a sigh, "Will and I will have to work twelve-hour shifts." "Are you not afraid to work nights, with all the queer things that are going on around us?" Walter asked curiously.