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 a tremulous and whining voice was heard to say:

"Pa, I—I can't! We ain't—we are n't— You tell him, Mr. Brown!"

The old engineer stepped slowly over and whispered something in the ear of the Rector.

"Sir?" ejaculated the Preacher.

Thereat the engineer repeated what he had said.

At this the Preacher put up his hands; then, recovering his official dignity, whispered something in turn into the ears of those close beside him. Then there was more whispering, and only the men remained in the front ranks of the watchers, while messengers were sent Tiurriedly and mysteriously to all quarters of the little town of Chamboro.

Long before their return, however, old Cap'n Sands and the Lone Star engineer had had a little private talk. This resulted in the old Cap'n's valiantly setting at defiance all municipal authority, and with his own incensed hand chopping down the padlocked cabin door of the Greyhound, declaring in no uncertain language, as he did so, that a certain fat-headed old constable was n't fit to herd she-goats!