The detective took a pair of handcuffs, which he happened to have in his grip, and festooned them upon Charley’s wrists. Stepping out on the rear platform he cut off a few feet of surplus bell rope that hung on the railing, and fettered Charley’s feet, so that he might not jump off and lose himself. When the engineer whistled for Casey Tank he cut the cord and marched the robber-chief up through the train. When the engine had been placed, the detective, standing on the rear end of the day coach, fired three shots, imitating as well as he knew how “the measured beating of my lady’s heart.” Leaping to the ground, he pushed Charley along in front of him until they came to Pete, cutting the coupling. “Come on, Pete,” said Watchem, and Pete, wondering who the new captain could be, followed on to the locomotive. “Speak to the gentleman on the engine, Charley,” said the detective. “Call him off or I shall be compelled to kill him.” “Jim,” said Charley, dramatically, “we have been betrayed. This train is loaded down with detectives and deputy sheriffs. We are surrounded, drop your gun.” “Just hand it over to the engineer, please,” said Watchem. “There, that’s better. There’s not so many of me that I feel like fighting the whole band.” “An’ now,” said Pete, facing Two-card Charley, “I reckon here’s whar’ we ’pologize an’ bow ourselves out.” CHAPTER XII McGUIRE GOES WEST HAVING saved the White Mail from a watery grave in the washout at West Silver Creek, and having also been instrumental in preventing the robbery of the Midnight Express at Casey’s Tank, Tommy McGuire, the pump boy, was the most celebrated employee in the service of the Vandalia Line. The head of the average boy would have been turned with so much attention, but Tommy had inherited the democratic simplicity of his plain parents, and, with the exception of a scarcely perceptible throwing out of his chest, there was no apparent change in his mien when he stepped from the train at St. Jacobs after his eventful visit to East St. Louis. His mother had come up from the bridge to meet him. “Ah, Tommy, darlint,” she cried, clasping the boy in her arms, “they do be afther makin’ a regular little jude uv ye, so they do, so they do.” Tommy kissed his mother, and put her from him as though she had been a child. He straightened his hat, that had been displaced, buttoned the top button on his store coat, and offered his hand to the agent, who now came forward to congratulate the young hero. It is to the boy’s credit that he invariably colored a little when complimented upon his heroism in preventing the Casey robbery. He could not help recalling the fact that he was himself hiding from the police when he overheard the desperadoes planning to hold up the train. To be sure, he and his friend, little Jack, had committed no offence, but they thought they had.