Bell gave it a heave.

“Too heavy!—Force him to open it.”

“I can’t. That’s the Wells Fargo safe. They don’t give me the combination.”

“Open up or we’ll kill you!”

“Kill and be damned. I can’t—I tell you.”

“Looks like he’s telling the truth,” interposed Wade.

“What’s in these?” demanded Bell, kicking some oblong packages lying beside the safe.

“I don’t know,” replied the express messenger.

The robber glanced around for some kind of implement and espied an ax. Seizing it he struck the top package a hard blow. There was a musical jingle of coins.

“Money,” Bell cried out and struck open the end of the package. Gold twenty-dollar coins rolled out.

“Double eagles! Look at ’em, pard. Pick them loose ones up.” With a bound at the messenger, Bell felled him with a blow of the gun. “How about my hunch, boy? Easiest job we ever had! . . . Slide those packages to the door.”

Bell leaped down upon the platform to peer with eager hawk eyes back toward the station. “Blue’s comin’. Hurry. . . Blue, run forward and get your pards.”

Wade filled his coat pockets with the loose coins, leaving some on the floor. Then he closed the end of the package Bell had broken and carried it to the door. The next one he slid across. By the time he had moved the five bundles, Blue had returned with his two partners.

“Each grab one and run for your hoss,” ordered Bell, fierce with gleeful excitement.

Wade leaped down and grasped the last package. It was heavy and he needed his gun hand to help. Thus burdened he ran after the dark form ahead of him. In another moment he was out of the flare of light and in the gloom. Shrill cries pealed from the station. Wade reached his companions more by sound than sight. Two were already mounted.

“Hand it—up,” panted the chief. “Did I—have—a hunch?—Ha! Not a shot! . . . Where’s the boy? .