The Comet had now a guide. No more excursions into the wilderness of the unknown for him. Timidly and cautiously he crept along as close to the tracks of the Union Pacific Railroad as the highway permitted, for they were about to go through the wild rugged country where rise the snow-capped ranges of the Rocky Mountains.

With a sigh of relief they said good-by to Steptoe Lodge.

“It was interesting, but uncomfortable,” Miss Campbell had said. For a whole day Billie’s experience had quite shaken Miss Campbell’s enthusiasm in the journey. It was not a permanent distaste, however. Having remained quietly in West Haven for a quarter of a century, the little woman was now possessed with a thirst for travel. She had developed into a high-toned Gypsy with a disposition to perpetual wandering.

The partings at Steptoe Lodge had some of them been quite moving; but not Rosina’s, who had bade them a chilly farewell. Her nature was a stormy one, a strange mixture of hot and cold, anger and humility, courage and fear.

“I don’t know whom she’s angriest with,” Billie had observed, “our ex-teacher, Maria, for putting her brother up to such lawless tricks or us because we were the victims.”

“I hope they catch him,” said Miss Campbell firmly. “I do, indeed, and shut him up in prison for a long, long time. Such dangerous characters ought not to be allowed to run at large.”

“They’ll catch him if Brek Steptoe has any influence,” put in Nancy. “Barney told me his cousin was never going to put up with Hawkeseye again. He had stood all he intended. Rosina was now to choose between them.”

“What is that you’re looking at, Nancy?” demanded Elinor, changing the subject.

Nancy blushed and laughed.

“A parting gift from Jim,” she replied.

Poor Jim had ridden for some miles beside the Comet and they had gone slowly in order to enjoy his company. Then, with a last hand-shake all around and a heart-breaking sigh, he stopped in the middle of the road, his sombrero in one hand and his horse’s reins in the other. And there he stood as still as a statue until the motor car was reduced to a small scarlet dot on the horizon. When he had shaken hands with Nancy, he thrust a small package into her lap. There were tears in Nancy’s eyes when she looked at the contents of the package, although her laugh rang out as merrily as her friends’ as she drew forth the hind foot of a jack rabbit mounted on a plaited loop of horsehair.

“Does he expect me to wear this thing around my neck,” she cried dangling the clumsy paw between her small thumb and forefinger.

“There’s a note,” said Mary, leaning over Nancy’s shoulder.

Nancy smiled again as she read the note, first to herself and then out loud:

“Dear Miss Nancy:

“I killed the rabbit in an Indian burying ground in the dark of the moon. The hair came from my horse’s tail. He’s a fine little animal, my horse. I love him best in the world next to—something else I like better. I wish it were a gold rabbit’s foot set in diamonds, but it’s a long ways here from a jewelry store, and this is the best I can do. I’ve had it a long time, and it’s brought me good luck at last, because I’ve met you. I hope it will bring you luck. Good-by. It’s the hardest good-by I ever had to say. If I ever strike a gold mine I’m coming East. Good-by again.

“Jim.”

“P. S.—Don’t forget me.”

“Poor, lonely soul!” exclaimed Miss Campbell, wiping the moisture from her eyes. “Where are his people, I wonder?”

“He hasn’t any,” answered Nancy. “His father was a miner and he died when Jim was a little boy. He’s worked in lumber camps and lived around like this all his life. I think he’s very gentlemanly, considering. He says Tony has taught him a lot. Jim is only eighteen, you know, although he looks much older.”

Deep down in her heart Miss Campbell made a resolution that she would like to do something very nice for Jim.

They slept that night at Cheyenne, which had once been a rude little frontier town, and was now a handsome city, and the next day pushed on toward Laramie. After riding hundreds of miles over level prairie grounds, the eyes become accustomed to wide stretches of landscape and the mind, too, takes a broader and more generous outlook on life. What is called “the peace of the plains” seems to brood over the traveler.

Our five motorists were filled with this quietude as they went Westward. All the difficulties of the trip and past dangers were forgotten. They were as peaceful as holy pilgrims journeying toward Mecca. At last, late in the afternoon, Billie suddenly stopped the car and pointed silently toward the setting sun. She had caught her first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains.

Far in the distance they lay, the first vague misty opalescent peaks of the great chain which divides the West into countries. They were only the earliest indications of the wild and beautiful scenery of Wyoming through which they were about to pass.

“And after Wyoming comes Utah,” observed Mary Price, thinking aloud.

“And in Utah comes Evelyn,” called Billie.

The girls thrilled at the thought of Evelyn. What might not have happened to her since she had been compelled to return to Utah.

“Perhaps her father has made her marry a Mormon,” suggested Mary in an awed tone of voice.

“Or shut her in a dungeon,” pursued Nancy, who had a vague idea such things might take place in this strange city.

“It’s like the story of the wicked king and the princess,” here put in Elinor, her thoughts running on royal blood as usual.

The girls smiled, but the notion was a disquieting one at any rate and Billie began silently to calculate how long it would take before they could reach Salt Lake City, weather and Comet permitting.

“I wish—I wish——” she began, but the whistle of a locomotive interrupted her.

“It’s the express,” exclaimed one of the girls.

“It’s going to stop.”

“But there’s no station.”

“A man is flagging it, don’t you see. It’s the track walker, I suppose. Perhaps something is the matter ahead.”

A very tall man with a lean figure, broad shoulders and a flopping sombrero hat was, in fact, waving a red flag in front of the Western express, which slowed up and presently, almost opposite the motor car, came to a full stop. The Comet also paused and waited to see what was the trouble.

The engine was too far in front to hear the conversation between the engineer, who now thrust his head out of the window, and the individual with the flag. But what happened next was exceedingly strange. The flagman, casting aside his signal, followed the engineer down the track to the first coach, which was the baggage car, and presently emerged on the platform leading to the next coach.

And now the engineer was not alone. Several baggage men and train officials had joined him, and they walked with their arms held up in the air. So absorbed was the motor party with the strange actions of the train people that they failed at the moment to notice what the lean individual was carrying in his hand. Neither could they tell what was taking place in the first passenger coach, but as the train officials were herded across the platform, still with arms uplifted, they suddenly became aware that the pockets in their coats, trousers and waistcoats were turned wrong side out, and that the man who was driving them in front of him like a herd of cattle held a pistol in his right hand, on the barrel of which the sun shone brilliantly.

“Billie, Billie, go on as fast as you can go, they are train robbers,” whispered Miss Campbell hoarsely, almost bereft of her voice from fright.

Billie jumped out of the machine, wishing with all her heart that somebody would invent a motor car that wouldn’t need to be cranked up.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss, will you kindly stay where you are?” said a soft, drawling voice behind them.

They turned quickly and faced another broad-shouldered individual with a sombrero half covering his lean, sunburned face. His gray eyes twinkled with amusement when he saw their consternation.

“We won’t do no harm to you, ladies, except to ask you for a lift after this little business is over. Jes’ keep perfectly quiet and ask no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies.”

Somehow, Billie did not feel frightened at this gentle, humorous person.

“Suppose we don’t care to give you a lift,” she said, her hand on the cranking lever.

“That would be a pity, Miss,” answered the man coaxingly, “because,” he went on slowly, “you see——” his hand slipped in his hip pocket and drew out a small, dangerous-looking revolver.

“Billie, darling, don’t oppose the creature!” cried Miss Campbell in a strangled voice.

“Steady! steady!” said the man. “Don’t git nervous, lady. You’ll come through the ordeal as well as you ever was in your life. Jes’ draw in a bit.”

Never had the moments dragged so slowly as they did now. Through the car windows they could see men and women with arms uplifted. Was it possible that one man could rob fifty? No; not one. They perceived two confederates, who had sprung up from somewhere, followed behind with a pistol in each hand. An intense quiet seemed to hang over the place as the robbers went silently through the train, and at last emerged from the back. The herd of officials were now made to get out and walk toward the engine. The engineer was permitted to climb into his engine, the others climbed in anywhere after him. As the train began to get up steam a man called out:

“Good heavens! there’s an automobile full of girls. We can’t leave them at the mercy of these blackguards.”

“They’re confederates!” called another man.

“Confederates? Nonsense! Don’t you see that fellow has a pistol aimed at them?”

As the train started, the passenger ran back to the platform and jumped off. The next moment three train robbers and a young man without any hat surrounded the Comet:

“Now, don’t try any monkey business, young feller,” said the first robber, pointing his pistol at the passenger. “Jes’ stay right where you are. I don’t want to commit murder.”

“Put that pistol up, Jim Bowles. I’m not afraid of you or of any of your disreputable acquaintances. These ladies are friends of mine, and I intend to stay with them.”

The girls, who had huddled down in the car white and silent, took courage and looked up.

It was Daniel Moore who was speaking.

Miss Campbell gave a little tremulous cry like a child’s.

“Oh, Mr. Moore, I implore you not to leave us.”

“I mean what I say,” pursued Jim Bowles. “If you wanter be still breathing fresh air in another two minutes, stay where you are.”

Daniel Moore looked him calmly in the eye.

“Do you remember Christmas Eve at Silver Bow two years ago?” he asked.

The robber’s face was curiously twisted with emotion.

“Yes,” he replied.

“I cut you down,” said Daniel Moore. “You would have been strung up there yet if I hadn’t come back in time. The scar is still there, I see.”

He glanced at the man’s sinewy throat around which ran a deep red scar.

With one stride Jim Bowles reached the other side of the automobile and seized Mr. Moore’s hand.

“Wuz you the gennelman? Stranger, git in and take it easy. We won’t do no harm to these ladies. But we’d like to git a lift. I knowed you wuz a brave man as soon as I seen you, and no one kin ever say Jim Bowles forgits a favor.”

Daniel Moore climbed in behind with Miss Helen and the girls who huddled down somehow, while the robbers pressed themselves into the front and Billie started the machine.