Phineas watched the fight in the car between the two natives. It was fascinated. His respect for Mistikhoman fortified by his bravery and durability. The man was beyond reproach. He would immortalize the Cree Indian in the tome he would someday write. When this event finishsed, he would scribble as many notes as he could remember including the feelings of terror that gripped him from moment to moment.

Misti entered the passenger car they had just exited. He watched him with the child, then glanced back at the dead Navajo. While staring at the corpse, Misti had reached his bow and loosed two arrows in the other direction. The second arrow garnered his attention. He drew his pistol as he rushed to Mistikhoman’s side. He ducked behind one of the seats, thrust his right arm out, aimed down the top of the barrel and squeezed off two rounds in rapid succession.

While Mistikhoman and Phineas were fighting in the car behind them, Taylor and Billy covered the distance on top of the express car quite rapidly. Billy saw Linch board the locomotive. He dropped to one knee, held his pistol out in front of him, cupping the firearm in his left while steadying his firing platform with direct contact between his elbow and knee. He aimed precisely at Linch and squeezed off a well-aimed shot from a moving vehicle. The projectile ricohcheted away from locomotive about one centimeter from Linch’s head. The man heard the whiz of the bullet alerting him to the men on the car. Billy quickly squeezed off another well aimed shot looking right at the man’s face. He felt he bullet would strike true.