“It was sure rough on 'em,” was Bill Badger²'s comment.

“Oh, it was awful!” cried our hero. “I—I didn't expect this, did you?”

“Nobody did. It must have come sudden like on to 'em.”

“It makes me sick at heart to think of it. I—I hope it wasn't our fault.”

“Not at all. If they hadn't broke away they'd be alive this minute. They'll never bother you or your friend again, Joe.”

Our hero felt weak at the knees and was glad enough to go back to the train, where he sank into his seat. He scarcely said another word until the wreck³ was cleared away and they were once more on their journey.

“I reckon you are glad you got the satchel⁴ before this happened,” remarked Bill Badger, when they were preparing to retire.

“Yes. But I—I wish they had gotten away. It's awful to think they are dead—and with such bad doings to their credit.”

Joe did not sleep very well and he was up early in the morning and out on the rear platform, drinking in the fresh air. He felt as if he had passed through some fearful nightmare.

“How do you like this climate?” asked Bill Badger, as he came out. “Ain't it just glorious?”

“It certainly is,” said Joe, and he remembered what Ned had told him. “I don't wonder some folks like it better than the East.”

“Oh, the East can't compare to it,” answered Bill Badger. “Why I was once down to New York and Boston, and the crowd and confusion and smoke and smells made me sick for a week! Give me the pure mountain air every time!”

The day proved a pleasant one and when he did not remember the tragedy that had occurred our hero enjoyed the ride and the wild scenery.

At last Golden Pass was reached, late at night, and they got off in a crowd of people.

“Joe!”

“Mr. Vane!” was the answering cry, and soon the two were shaking hands. “Let me introduce a new friend, Mr. Bill Badger.”

“Glad to know you.”

“Mr. Badger helped me get back your satchel,” went on our hero.

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