She kissed him on the cheek, which flamed even more red as he made frantic efforts to keep his head back. "Ma’am!" he cried, desperately. "Leggo, ma’am! Leggo!" "Oh! Ho! Ho!" roared Red, weak from his mirth and, not looking to see what he was doing, he dropped into a seat beside another woman. He was on his feet instantly; fearing that he would have to go through the ordeal his friend was going through, he fled down the aisle, closely followed by Hopalong, who by this time had managed to break away. Skinny backed off suspiciously and kept close watch on Hopalong’s admirer. Just then the brakeman entered the car, grinning, and Skinny asked about the condition of the conductor. "Oh, he ’s all right now," the brakeman replied. "They shot him through the arm, but he ’s repaired and out bossin’ the job of clearin’ the rocks off the track. He ’s a little shaky yet, but he ’ll come around all right." "That’s good. I ’m shore glad to hear it." "Won’t you wear this pin as a small token of my gratitude?" asked a voice at Skinny’s shoulder. He wheeled and raised his sombrero, a flush stealing over his face: "Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t want no pay. We was plumb glad to do it." "But this is not pay! It’s just a trifling token of my appreciation of your courage, just something to remind you of it. I shall feel hurt if you refuse." Her quick fingers had pinned it to his shirt while she spoke and he thanked her as well as his embarrassment would permit. Then there was a rush toward him and, having visions of a shirt looking like a jeweler’s window, he turned and fled from the car, crying: "Pin ’em on th’ brakeman!" He found the outfit working at a pile of rocks on the track, under the supervision of the conductor, and Hopalong looked up apprehensively at Skinny’s approach. "Lord!" he ejaculated, grinning sheepishly, "I was some scairt you was a woman." Red dropped the rock he was carrying and laughed derisively. "Oh, yo’re a brave man, you are! scared to death by a purty female girl! If I ’d ’a’ been you I would n’t ’a’ run, not a step!" Hopalong looked at him witheringly: "Oh, no! You wouldn’t ’a’ run! You’d dropped dead in your tracks, you would!" "You was both of you a whole lot scared," Skinny laughed. Then, turning to the conductor: "How do you feel, Simms?" "Oh, I ’m all right: but it took the starch out of me for awhile." "Well, I don’t wonder, not a bit." "You fellows certainly don’t waste any time getting busy," Simms laughed. "That’s the secret of gun-fightin’," replied Skinny. "Well, you ’re a fine crowd all right. Any time you want to go any place when you ’re broke, climb aboard my train and I ’ll see’t you get there." "Much obliged." Simms turned to the express-car: "Hey, Jackson! You can open up now if you want to." But the express-messenger was suspicious, fearing that the conductor was talking with a gun at his head: "You go to h—l!" he called back.