Carse was collecting tickets in the second car when suddenly it thrilled and trembled, and the train, with grinding squealing brakes, came to a stop. The conductor was all but thrown from his feet, but he staggered to the platform, and leaping down ran toward the engine, followed by an excited crowd of passengers. “What's the matter?” he demanded of Downs, whom he found clambering out of the cab. “That's what I want to know,” answered the engineer. “Didn't you pull the signal cord?” “No,” said Carse, looking puzzled. “I wonder what's up.” At that moment a man came forward from the group of passengers: it was McDowell. “I signalled you to stop,” he said. Carse waited an instant for him to go on, and then asked impatiently, “Well, what's wrong?” “Nothing that I know of,” said McDowell, easily. “I wanted the train to stop.” Carse stepped toward him angrily. “I don't know whether you're drunk or not,” he said, “but that's a damned poor kind of a joke. You'll find that out as soon as we get to Sawyerville.” “Oh, no, I won't,” said McDowell. “I'm superintendent of this road, and the first thing I'm going to do is to fire you. Haven,”--he called to one of the group behind him,--“you can take this train to Manchester.” Another man pushed into the circle. He was Stewart, the sheriff of Evelyn County. “Mr. McDowell is quite right. Mr. Frederick McNally, the receiver of the road, appointed him this morning. And I now serve on you a writ from Judge Black--” “See here,” interrupted Carse, “are you sheriff of Evelyn County or of the whole United States? You'd better keep out of this; the county line's about half a mile back.” “We're wasting time,” said McDowell, shortly. “James and Mangan, take the engine. We'll take charge of this train, sir, county or no county.” “Not if I can help it,” said Carse, under his breath. Then shouting, “Get away, boys; don't mind me,” he sprang upon McDowell, hitting out swift and hard, and in a second the two men were clinched and rolling in the sand. Downs took the hint and, leaping into the cab, let off the air brake and seized the throttle, while Berg, his big fireman, wrenched free from the two men who tried to hold him and rushed toward the cab. For a moment it looked as though No. 14 was going to get away.