And now, Major, I'm going to take her straight to Denver, and
send for a parson and get her married to me, and she'll brace up, sure
pop."
The whistle sounded, and the train started. From the window of the
"sleeper" Sinclair and his wife took their last look at the weird scene.
The lieutenant, standing at the side of the track, wrapped in his cloak,
caught a glimpse of Mrs. Sinclair's pretty face, and returned her bow.
Then, as the car passed out of sight, he tugged at his mustache and
hummed:
"Why, boys, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys,
Whose business 'tis to die?"
In less than an hour, telegrams having in the mean time been sent in
both directions, the train ran alongside the platform at Barker's; and;
Watkins, inperturbable as usual, met Sinclair, and gave him his letters.
"Perry gang wiped out, I hear, Major," said he "Good thing for the
country. That's a lesson the 'toughs' in these parts won't forget for a
long time. Plucky girl that give 'em away, wasn't she. Hope she's all
right."
"She is all right," said Sinclair, with a smile.
"Glad of that. By-the-way, that father of her'n passed in his checks
to-night. He'd got one warning from the Vigilantes, and yesterday they
found out he was in with this gang, and they was a-going for him; but
when the telegram come, he put a pistol to his head and saved them all
trouble.
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