go ahead, but the conductor swung his arm and countermanded the order.
He and the trainmen had been held up in a group by themselves while the robbers were doing their work.
"What's the matter with you?" cried the Red Rover.
That, by the way, was a name by which the outlaw was fully as well known as by his appellation of Captain Joaquin.
"That express-car is the matter," was the answer. "You can't expect me to risk the lives of my passengers by starting before I see whether it is fit to run or not."
"It will hang together until you get to the next station, if you are careful, and that is all you want. Go ahead!" to the engineer. "If you don't, we will riddle you with bullets and start your train ourselves and run you straight to Satan!"
That settled it. The moment they turned their guns upon the engineer he blew the signal to go ahead, and pulled the throttle.
Finding that the express-car was on its trucks all right, and that it would run, he pulled the throttle again, and there was nothing for the conductor and trainmen to do but jump aboard.
The band of outlaws gave them a parting cheer, swinging their hats until the train rounded the next bend and passed out of sight.
The dead, we have forgotten to mention, had been thrown into the express-car.
The wounded outlaws were hurriedly cared for while the horses were brought.
Scarce ten minutes had been occupied, all together, and in two or three minutes after the departure of the train the robbers were wending their way into the mountains.
It had been one of Captain Joaquin's most daring raids, and at the same time one of his most successful; certainly it had brought him more than he had counted upon.
And, besides, Deadwood Dick – whom he had feared if he feared any man – was his prisoner!
That was, after all, his biggest haul, and he breathed easier.
He had known for some time, or had, with good reason, believed that the prince of detectives was on his trail, and his vigilance thus had been severely taxed. Now he had this terrible outlaw and crook-hunter corralled; that was glory enough for one year!
"Well, Deadwood Dick, I have got you at last," he remarked, as they rode along.
"Yes, so it appears. You have been looking for me, then?"
"Well, we have been looking for you, yes."
"And what do you intend to do with me, now that you have got me? On your word that you would give me a fair show, I placed these handcuffs on my wrists, as you see."
"Yes, and I have not tried them yet, as I promised to do, by the way. Here, Jim, just see if this fellow's irons are safe."
One of the men rode forward and tried them.
"He can't git out of them 'ar things, cap'n," he reported.
"All right. It seems you put them on to stay, Deadwood Dick. You have the key to them, of course."
"In my vest pocket."
"All right. Just relieve him of it, Jim."
"You bet, boss! We don't want him springin' no tricks on us, hey?"
The outlaw thrust his fingers into Dick's pocket and brought forth a small key, handing it to Captain Joaquin.
"Not much of a trick I could spring on you, my good fellow," observed Dick. "If you tried it, you would find that you could not unlock the bracelets to save your life, even with the key in your fingers."
"Ther doose I couldn't!"
"Not if they were on your own wrists, no."
"All the same, I will retain the key," assured the Red Rover.
"And what kind of a fair show do you intend to give me?" again demanded the prisoner.
"What kind of a show do you want?"
"Just a chance for my life, that is all."
"You picked off two or three of our men, though," one complained.
"And you killed about as many of ours, so that account ought to stand squared," argued Bristol.
"Well, call it square," rejoined Captain Joaquin. "I said I would give you a show, and I will. How would you like to become one of us?"
CHAPTER IV.
REJECTING A PROPOSAL
Dick Bristol smiled grimly.
He knew that Captain Joaquin was no fool, and also that the outlaw did not take him to be one.
Was this the chance for his life the road-raider intended to give him? It looked so. Dick could plainly see the string attached to the gift.
He did not respond immediately.
"You don't answer," urged the Red Rover.
"What is the use? Were I to accept, all in good faith, you would not trust me."
"Why not?"
"Because I am Deadwood Dick, the Dead-Set Detective and Rogue-Runner."
Captain Joaquin smiled in his turn.
He and his men had now removed their masks.
"That is a good enough reason, certainly," he said.
"And that is the only show you intend to give me?"
"What else can I do? I will give you an equal share with the rest of my men of the plunder we have taken to-day, according to the rate I divide with them, and make you one of us. I can't do any more than that."
"There is no use our trying to fool each other, Captain Joaquin."
"Then you don't believe that I will do what I say?"
"Yes, I believe you will do that, if I say I will accept the proposition."
"Then what is the matter with your accepting it? You would make a fine lieutenant for me, now that poor Hoxey is dead – thanks to that express-messenger."
"I had rather deal openly with you then underhanded, Red Rover," was Dick's response.
"What do you mean?"
"Just what you know – that I am first, last and all the time against birds of your feather, and that were I to accept your offer it would be only to do you a trick at the first opportunity."
A murmur of admiration ran through the company of cutthroats.
"That being the case, I must recall the offer, that's all. I have no way of convincing you that I meant it in good faith."
"No, you would find it impossible to do that."
"Well, I have given you the show I promised."
"And it was
