| "Stop! Hey, stop him!" The speaker was an little old man, hopping
up and down waving his silver-headed cane at another man. This man was
fleeing, stuffing a fat wallet into his
pocket. He was wearing a slightly dirty coat, a bandana drawn up over his
face, and a low hat. He was racing towards a freight train that was just
pulling out of the station. Before anyone could reach him, he had jumped,
and grabbed onto the rear ladder of the caboose.
By then the nearest patrol had been roused. The little man in a silk top hat, expensive suit, and spats screamed to them which train to follow. This was not really neccesary, as there was only one train. The patrol members and their Captain leapt onto their mounts and galloped off after the train. "Sir," panted the lieutenant of the group, "The train will pick up speed before we can get to them!?" And indeed it did. Thirty seconds later the train was far ahead, and the group of mounted patrolmen was forced to turn back. "Quickly! Back to the station! We'll send a telegram to the next station that that train will pass, and than we'll get them!" The Captain galloped back to the station with his patrol. He leapt off his horse, and went up to the ticket booth. "I'm Captain Rico. Police, O.K.? Send a telegram to Denver station, reading as follows: Stop freight train #317 stop. Arrest ticketless man with large wallet STOP Have arrest warrant STOP Signed, Captain Rico.?" "Yes sir." replied the slightly bewildered ticket seller. "Oh, and how long 'till the #317 gets to Denver?" The ticket seller checked his watch. "An hour, Sir." Captain Rico walked out of the station, twiddling his mustache nervously. Maybe he could find out more about this crook. And he also had to get an arrest warrant. To find out about the crook, maybe he could talk to Mr. Cliff. Any information could be useful. Then he could take Mr. Cliff to a courtroom, to help get a warrant. And he only had an hour... Suddenly he jerked his head up to see Mr. Cliff himself, running towards him. "Oh, at last I've found you. Where did he go" Will you be able to catch him?" "Yes, yes, we can catch 'im. We couldn't get him after he grabbed that caboose. I've sent a telegram to Denver station, telling them to nab him when he comes. I'm hoping you can help me get a warrant for his arrest." " Of course, with pleasure!" Replied Mr. Cliff. There's a courtroom down on the other end of town, if you're ready!" * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Twenty-five minutes later, in the courtroom, the judge almost gave Rico his arrest warrant. "All right, gentlemen, you have your warrant in all but a name. Know the name of the fellow?" "Er..." "Well Gents, I can't give you a warrant until you have a name." "Mr. Cliff.." Rico said slowly. "Did you happen to see anything of the crook's face?" "Well, maybe. Let's see... He had a leather patch over his left eye, and from a corner, in a blur I still managed to spot a scar. Does that help?" "Jumpin' Jehosefat, it does!" shouted Rico, springing into the air. "There's only one gangster with that eyepatch and scars like that. They call him Attila!" "You're sure?" asked the Judge. "All right then here's your warrant. Sign there." The two men strode out of the courtroom, and each went their separate ways. Mr. Cliff left for a martini in an expensive restoraunt to cool off, while Captain Rico paced the yard of the station chewing his nails. But in Ogalalla station, something different was happening. Corporal Rusty was drilling his patrol down in a field near Ogalalla station. In the ticket booth at the station, the ticket-seller started receiving a telegram. When receiving had finished, the message read: To chief of Ogalalla police stop Capture freight train #317 stop Arrest man who is without ticket, brown hat, bandana covering face stop Stole wallet of Mr. Cliff, I have arrest warrant stop The ticket master got up and hurried out the door of his booth. He found Corporal Rusty drilling his troops in a meadow near the station. He ran up to him. "Sir!" The ticket seller called. "What is it?" answered the Corporal. 'There's an urgent telegram for you, from a station in the outskirts of Chicago!" explained the ticket-seller. He read the telegram to Rusty. "And," he added, "The #317 is scheduled to get here in fifteen minutes." "I'll get my troop ready to catch that robber when he comes. Suggested to be the out landish Attila, eh? Then do you think he'd LET himself be caught in a trap like this? A feller like him, I dunno..." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Indeed, perhaps Corporal Rusty was correct. For, at that moment, Attila was planning an outrage as he snuck along the inside of the caboose. He very softly began to climb into the capola, and peered carefully over the edge of the ladder. All was clear; the watchman was snoozing gently with his face turned to the window. being careful not to wake him, Attila raised the butt of his pistol and brought it down with a crack on the watchman's head, knocking him out. Then Attila dragged the senseless watchman to the main floor of the bouncer. He tightly bound and gagged the watchman, and then proceeded to ransack the caboose. He opened drawers, scattered garbage from the trash bin, took books from shelves and checked them, one after another. Finally, he said to himself a triumphant "aha!" as he shook a book, and piles and piles of green bills fluttered from between the pages of a set of Charles Dickens novels. He carefully packed up this in an old burlap bag with a couple of cans of beans that clinked when he shook it, and tied the bag securely shut, and slung it over his shoulder. Now he was ready. Leaving the bag on the back railing of the caboose, Attila climbed the ladder an stepped onto the catwalk of the caboose. He made his way across the roof and over the capola of the caboose, and jumped down behind the railing facing the log car ahead of him. He bent down and fumbled for a few seconds, and straightened up with the pin in his hand. The #317 shot ahead with the rest of the train, leaving the caboose behind. "See ya, fellas! Hope you don't miss a bit of dough that is on its way to serving a good cause! Ha ha ha!!!" No one noticed the caboose leave, and in fact the escape of Attila was never discovered until the #317 arrived at Ogalalla station. "WHAT!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THE CABOOSE IS GONE??? WE MUST CATCH HIM!!!!" roared Corporal Rusty when he heard the news. But there was nothing to do. Meanwhile, a little Blue-and-yellow caboose glided to a stop someplace between Chicago and Ogalalla. It hit a curve and derailed with a small crack-crack-crash. A figure climbed out with a large bag and a man slung over his shoulder. He shoved the tied man under the caboose, then reached into the caboose and pulled out a chain. He tied the and around the coupling and, huffing and puffing, pulled until it rested perpendicular to the tracks. The crook grinned with satisfaction and, as evening was coming, sat down under a gully a quarter of a mile away to make camp. Now it just so happened that a couple of cowhands were coming around that way to check the fence. Bandits and cattle-thieves often cut fences in order to steal cows, and these two men where on a sort of patrol to check for things like that. They rode along and looked at the fences and after a while got pretty bored. So one of them raised his head and took a breath of air, and at the same time noticed that caboose, sitting overturned on the track, when no train had been by in quit some time. "Look over there, Bill! A caboose!" "Well, well," his partner replied. "Looky that! Somethin's wrong here, so let's go see, eh?" The men galloped over to the spot and examined the situation. Suddenly, one exclaimed, "Billy! Look over here! A man! Under the caboose!" "Git him out, Sam. Boy, someone's been doing dirty work around here, and means to do more." "Mmmmmmm, mmm mmmmm!" said the gagged watchman, struggling to get loose. "All right, all right, quit strugglin'" Said Bill, and cut the ropes and gag. "Now ol' boy, what do you have to say?" The watchman, Dick, told them all he had seen, as he had been awake from the time on when he watched Attila ransack the caaboose. "And then," He finished up, "I heard him walk away with his bag off in that direction." "Well then," said Bill. "Lets follow his prints! Lookit 'em, clear as day! I have a Winchester in my saddle.." "You got it. Let's go!" The three men determined that no train would be coming until dawn, and followed the tracks steadily, trudging along until it was dusk. Finally they found Attila, sleeping behind a small valley, with a fat sack near him. Quietly they crept up to the sleeping crook. Dick opened the sack quietly, and nearly fell over as he saw the contents. Hundreds of green bills and small mounds of coin lay in the sack, gleaming and grinning up at them. Bill nudged Attila with his foot, snarling, "Get up, you dirty train-wrecker. Your carefree days are over. We're handing you over to the police!" Attila woke with a start, and rolled over and sprang to his feet in a fraction of a second, meeting Bills gun. The three men tied Attila and marched back to the caboose, and spent the night taking turns watching their prisoner. Day dawned, and after breakfast they went back to the caboose. After ten minutes of exploring it, Sam jerked his head up again. "Look! a column of smoke in the sky, coming this way!" Bill ripped of his red flannel overshirt, and Dick got a red bandana. They raced down the track toward the train. "Stop! Stop!" they shouted. Tseeee eeeeeee eeeeeee eeeeeeee! The brakes of the train squealed and shrieked, and the brakemen were working hard. A large patrol leapt out of an empty car, led by Corporal Rusty. Working together, they managed to rerail the caboose. They all rode back to Chicago, and Mr. Cliff got his wallet and Attila was jailed. He did perform a jailbreak, but that should go in another story. THE END
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