now the dark figure of Tom Barker beside me, reins
in one hand and whip in the other, waiting for the signal to proceed.
The convicts had ceased their singing, and all was quiet except for the
impatient scrape of one of the leader's hoofs. I heard the tinkle of
the drag as Woodley loosed the chain; then on the roof behind some one
gave a short, sharp whistle.

Exactly what happened next I did not fully realize till later. Two men
suddenly seized Tom Barker from behind, and a desperate struggle
ensued. The silence was broken by an outburst of horrible threats and
cursing, while, to make matters worse, the horses, startled by the
noise and the fall of the coachman's whip on the backs of the wheelers,
sprang forward, and, as though knowing instinctively that something was
wrong, gave every sign of commencing to bolt.

I fear I cannot claim for myself any particular presence of mind: it
was more the natural impulse of self-preservation which prompted me to
act; for once let the horses start to gallop down that hill, and all
our necks were as good as broken. Fortunately, although I had never
enjoyed the privilege of handling the ribbons on a stage-coach before,
I was accustomed to horses. I seized the reins in the nick of time,
just as they were slipping over the splashboard, and bracing myself for
the effort, succeeded in bringing the team to a standstill.

Even as I did so Tom Barker was flung from his seat, and fell heavily
into the road, where he lay like a log, stunned if not dead. Terrified
by this violence, I was about to spring down and make good my escape in
the darkness, when I felt my arm seized in an iron grip, and a voice,
which I recognized as belonging to the man Lewis, spoke in my ear.

"Stay still, sir; you may get hurt if you try to run. I'll see you
come to no harm."

CHAPTER X.

HIGHWAY PIRATES.

It did not take me long to arrive at an understanding of the true state
of affairs. The convicts had risen, overpowered their guards, and
seized the coach. From scraps of conversation which passed between
them, I subsequently learned that the man whom I had seen appear and
disappear so mysteriously outside the Sportsman Inn was a friend of one
of the prisoners, and, under the pretence of wishing him good-bye, had
handed up a couple of small files, with which several of the men had
freed themselves from their fetters. Once or twice I had heard a
slight grating noise, but, as I have already