THE MARK OF DEATH THE MOUNTAIN LIMITED was clicking slowly over the rails that trail through the highest and wildest land in America-the western slope of the Rockies. Speed was cut down as the big special labored toward the highest point on its line-nearly seven thousand feet above sea level. Midnight had struck. Outside, the gloomy mountains hung over the track; seemed about to close in on it, and wipe out the train and all its passengers. Within the club car of the train, only a handful of men remained in the fortable chairs. All of these were dozing away, with the exception of one who sat at the end of the car
