“Yellowstone Limited. Man fired at engine driver. Train was flying past that quick the bullet broke every window and killed a passenger on the back platform. You’ve been running too much with aristocrats,” finished Trampas, and turned on his heel. “Haw, hew!” began the enthusiast, but his neighbor gripped him to silence. This was a triumph too serious for noise. Not a mutineer moved; and I felt cold. “Trampas,” said the Virginian, “I thought yu’d be afeared to try it on me.” Trampas whirled round. His hand was at his belt. “Afraid!” he sneered. “Shorty!” said Scipio, sternly, and leaping upon that youth, took his half-drawn pistol from him. “I’m obliged to yu’,” said the Virginian to Scipio. Trampas’s hand left his belt. He threw a slight, easy look at his men, and keeping his back to the Virginian, walked out on the platform and sat on the chair where the Virginian had sat so much. “Don’t you comprehend,” said the Virginian to Shorty, amiably, “that this hyeh question has been discussed peaceable by civilized citizens? Now you sit down and be good, and Mr. Le Moyne will return your gun when we’re across that broken bridge, if they have got it fixed for heavy trains yet.” “This train will be lighter when it gets to that bridge,” spoke Trampas, out on his chair. “Why, that’s true, too!” said the Virginian. “Maybe none of us are crossin’ that Big Horn bridge now, except me. Funny if yu’ should end by persuadin’ me to quit and go to Rawhide myself! But I reckon I’ll not. I reckon I’ll worry along to Sunk Creek, somehow.” “Don’t forget I’m cookin’ for yu’,” said Scipio, gruffy. “I’m obliged to yu’,” said the Southerner. “You were speaking of a job for me,” said Shorty. “I’m right obliged. But yu’ see--I ain’t exackly foreman the way this comes out, and my promises might not bind Judge Henry to pay salaries.” A push came through the train from forward. We were slowing for the Rawhide station, and all began to be busy and to talk. “Going up to the mines to-day?” “Oh, let’s grub first.” “Guess it’s too late, anyway.” And so forth; while they rolled and roped their bedding, and put on their coats with a good deal of elbow motion, and otherwise showed off. It was wasted. The Virginian did not know what was going on in the caboose. He was leaning and looking out ahead, and Scipio’s puzzled eye never left him. And as we halted for the water-tank, the Southerner exclaimed, “They ’ain’t got away yet!” as if it were good news to him. He meant the delayed trains. Four stalled expresses were in front of us, besides several freights. And two hours more at least before the bridge would be ready. Travellers stood and sat about forlorn, near the cars, out in the sage-brush, anywhere. People in hats and spurs watched them, and Indian chiefs offered them painted bows and arrows and shiny horns. “I reckon them passengers would prefer a laig o’ mutton,” said the Virginian to a man loafing near the caboose.