Charles E. Van Loan

“ There was another brief silence, and then the Great Gilmore caught the last words he was ever to hear from the lips of Buckshot John Moran, train-robber, murderer, and repentant sinner—a benediction, a farewell, and a speculation, all in one short sentence.
"Maybe," said the voice reverently, "He can't be too particular; like as not He has to use what instruments He can get." ”

“ The man's mind was working slowly.
"You give me the chance to get to Denver, and I'll let everybody think I went and got the stuff myself, and I'll never mention your name. You set 'em on me to-night, and as sure as there's a God in heaven, I'll tell what kind of a rat you are, and, what's more, I'll name the man who can prove it! You'd do a fine bunco-steering business after that got out on you, wouldn't you? If they didn't jail you, you'd have to jump the State and change your name."
Buckshot John paused and watched Gilmore's face. ”

“ After a time the engine hooted forlornly, coughed a few times, and went wheezing on its way, carrying one soul nearer to its expiation, and leaving another one, the unpremeditated and accidental instrument of a worthy deed, to purify its surging thoughts at the fierce fires of bitter humiliation and regret. ”