Читать книгу Hands Up! онлайн

57 страница из 67

"Going to flag this freight," he said, "and get Douglas in the caboose."

The locomotive with its string of sun-scorched cars came in sight; Scotty waved his flag and the string drew slowly into the depôt—the conductor dropping off to see why he had been stopped.

"It's Douglas," said Scotty; "he's had an accident."

"The hell he has!"

So we carried Douglas into the caboose at the end of the string of cars. The pump-car on which the Doc had come up was lifted on to a flat car, the men piled into the caboose, the Doc followed—and away went the train.

I was unsettled, restless. I felt that something was going to happen. One does not often have such feelings in the sage-brush lands. Cities, jostling crowds, going up and down in elevators, hanging on to straps in crowded cars—these things breed the nervous sense of "something going to happen." The sage-brush makes one "feel good."

It must have taken us some time to get Douglas aboard, for, when I looked over to the hotel, I saw that the verandah was deserted. The men had evidently gone in to lunch.