The gangway was clear again. There was life for it yet! The train was backing quickly now under the urgent, prodding bucks of the engine. Sammy Durgan mopped at his face, his eyes warily on the gangways. Another man made a running jump for it--again Sammy Durgan's shovel swung--and again the gangway was clear. Shovel poised, lurching with the lurch of the cab, red hair flaming, half terrified and half defiant, eyes shooting first to one gangway and then the other, Sammy Durgan held the cab. A minute passed with no renewal of attack. Sammy Durgan stole a quick glance over his shoulder through the cab glass up the track--and, with a triumphant shout, he flung the shovel clanging to the iron floor-plates, and, leaning far out of the gangway, shook his fist. Strewn out along the right of way masked men yelled and shouted and cursed, but Sammy Durgan was beyond their reach--and so was the express company's safe. "Yah!" screamed Sammy Durgan, wildly derisive and also belligerent in the knowledge of his own safety. "Yah! Yah! Yah! 'Twas me, ye bloody hellions, that turned the trick on ye! 'Twas me, Sammy Durgan, and I'll have you know it! 'Twas----" Sammy Durgan turned, as the express car opened, and Macy, the conductor, hatless and wild-eyed, appeared on the platform. "'S'all right, Macy!" Sammy Durgan screeched reassuringly. "'S'all right--it's me, Sammy Durgan." Macy jumped from the platform to the tender, jumped over the water tank, and came down into the cab with an avalanche of coal. His mouth was twitching and jerking, but for a moment he could not speak--and then the words came like an explosion, and he shook his fist under Sammy Durgan's nose. "You--you damned fathead!" he roared. "What in the double-blanked, blankety-blanked son of blazes are you doing!" "Fathead, yourself!" retorted Sammy Durgan promptly--and there was spice in the way Sammy Durgan said it. "I'm doing what you hadn't the nerve or the head to do, Macy--unless mabbe you're in the gang yourself! I'm saving that safe back there in the express car, that's what I'm doing." "Saving nothing!" bellowed Macy crazily, as he slammed the throttle shut. "There! Look there!" He reached for Sammy Durgan's head, and with both hands twisted it around, and fairly flattened Sammy Durgan's nose against the cab glass. "What--what is it?" faltered Sammy Durgan, a little less assertively. Macy was excitable. He danced upon the cab floor as though it were a hornets' nest. "What is it!" he echoed in a scream. "What is it! It's moving pictures, you tangle-brained, rusty-headed idiot! That's what it is!"