"That was Wolf who came in to see they were doing the job right.
He's the worst desperado on the border--a sure enough bad
proposition, I reckon. They say he's part Spanish and part
Indian, but all pisen. Others say he's a college man of good
family. I don't know about that, for nobody knows who he really
is. But the name is a byword in the country. People lower their
voices when they speak of him and his night-riders."

"I see. And you were afraid of him?"

"Very much."

Her narrowed eyes looked over the strong lines of his lean face
and were unconvinced. "I expect you found a better reason than
that for not opposing them."

He turned to her with frank curiosity. "I'd like real well to
have you put a name to it."

But he was instantly aware that her interest had been side
tracked. Major Mackenzie had entered the car and was coming down
the aisle. Plainer than words his eyes asked a question, and hers
answered it.

The sheriff stopped him with a smiling query: "Hit hard, major?"

Mackenzie frowned. "The scoundrels took thirty thousand from the
express car, I understand. Twenty thousand of it belonged to our
company. I was expecting to pay off the men next Tuesday."