Big Ben gave one look and, without a word, waddled after his fireman. The tears that stood in old Shiner's eyes dashed away at the brush of a sleeve. A light of astonishment, comprehension, relief suddenly gleamed in their place. The sergeant stared for a moment, looked blankly at his men, then side-stepped for another long gaze at the new-comer's face. Cullin turned sharply, resentful at first at the tone of authority, wrath in his heart and rebuke on his tongue, but then came sudden reminder of Anthony's card--the card the strange young fellow had presented only when needed to convince, the card he had been so sagacious as to retain, the card that proclaimed him a friend of the powers and a person to be considered. Moreover, the friend and person had suggested a means by which actual surrender to the situation might appear as virtual and moral victory. One more look at Shiner and then Shiner settled it. "I submit to arrest, Mr. Cullin. Let me go with you--and settle." "Get aboard the caboose," was the gruff answer, and, all apparent meekness, Shiner obeyed. "Not you," added Cullin, as Shiner's saddle-bag-bearing friend would have followed. "Give me the bags," said Shiner, "and you look to--" A significant glance at the signal told the rest. Cullin followed it with his eyes, saw the arm still lowered to the "stop," knew that it should not be left there, and for a moment held back. "_He_'ll fix it," said Shiner, from the platform of the caboose, while his eyes sought the face of the tall young fellow at Cullin's back. Cullin strode to the corner of the office and followed the ranchman with curious eyes. That sun-tanned, bow-legged person straddled down the back steps, his big spurs jingling, a high boot-heel catching on next to the lowermost and pitching him forward. He clamped his broadbrim on his head with one hand and steadied his holster with the other, straightened up with half-stifled expletive, and the next minute was swarming up the slender iron rungs of the signal-ladder. "He's got to prop it up where it belongs," said the sergeant. "Reckon he must have shot the wire that held it." And of a truth the wire was severed. But when Cullin turned back to his train with the mystery cleared, the sight and sound of new commotion blocked his own signal to start.