"What's that old rube doing back here, Ramsay? Why, hang it, man, he's carrying a couple of guns. Is this a hold-up?" At the same instant Rosalind and two of the women came rushing from their dressing tent, alarmed and indignant. Miss Marmaduke, her eyes blazing, confronted the stage director. "What does this mean, Mr. Ramsay?" she cried. "That old man ordered us out of our dressing-room at the point of a revolver, and--see! There he is now doing the same to the men." It was true. Anderson Crow, with a brace of horse pistols, was driving the players toward the centre of the stage. In a tremulous voice he commanded them to remain there and take the consequences. A moment later the marshal of Tinkletown strode into the limelight with his arsenal, facing an astonished and temporarily amused audience. His voice, pitched high with excitement, reached to the remotest corners of the inclosure. Behind him the players were looking on, open-mouthed and bewildered. To them he loomed up as the long-dreaded constable detailed to attach their personal effects. The audience, if at first it laughed at him as a joke, soon changed its view. Commotion followed his opening speech. CHAPTER XXXII The Luck of Anderson Crow "Don't anybody attempt to leave this tent!" commanded Mr. Crow, standing bravely forth with his levelled revolvers. The orchestra made itself as small as possible, for one of the guns wavered dangerously. "Don't be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen. The train robbers are among you." There were a few feminine shrieks, a volume of masculine "Whats!" a half-hearted and uncertain snigger, and a general turning of heads. "Keep your seats!" commanded Anderson. "They can't escape. I have them surrounded. I now call upon all robbers present to surrender in the name of the law. Surrender peaceful and you will not he damaged; resist and we'll blow you to hell an' gone, even at the risk of injurin' the women and childern. The law is no respecter of persons. Throw up your hands!" He waited impressively, but either through stupefaction or obstinacy the robbers failed to lift their hands. "You're cornered, you golderned scamps!" shouted Anderson Crow, "an' you might jest as well give up! Twenty Pinkerton men are here from New York City, an' you can't escape! Throw up your hands!" "The damned old fool is in earnest," gasped Judge Brewster, from across the river. "He's crazy!" cried Congressman Bonner. "Let everybody in this crowd throw up their hands!" called a firm, clear voice from the entrance. At the same instant five bewhiskered individuals appeared as if by magic with drawn revolvers, dominating the situation completely. The speaker was Andrew Gregory, the insurance agent. "Now, what have you got to say?" cried Anderson gaily. "I guess me an' the detectives have you cornered all right, ain't we?"