er next the window, with head thrust forth as far as was safe he
awaited eagerly the signal to start.

CHAPTER V.

THE RIDE IN THE COACH.

The last passenger had taken his seat, the last trunk been strapped on
behind, and the canvas covering drawn tightly over it, the mail bags
safely stowed away in the capacious boot; and then big Jack Davis,
gathering the reins of his six impatient steeds skilfully into one hand,
and grasping the long-lashed whip in the other, sang out to the men who
stood at the leaders' heads:

"Let them go!"

The men dropped the bridles and sprang aside, the long lash cracked like
a pistol shot, the leaders, a beautiful pair of grey ponies, perfectly
matched, reared, curvetted, pranced about, and then would have dashed
off at a wild gallop had not Jack Davis' strong hands, aided by the
steadiness of the staider wheelers, kept them in check: and soon brought
down to a spirited canter, they led the way out of the town.

The coach had a heavy load. It could hold twelve passengers inside, and
every seat was occupied on top. Besides Mr. Miller, who had the coveted
box seat, there were two other men perched upon the coach top, and
making the best of their uncomfortable position; and there was an extra
amount of baggage.

"Plenty of work for my horses to-day, Mr. Miller," said Jack Davis,
looking carefully over the harnessing to make sure that every strap was
securely buckled, and every part in its right place.

"Yes, indeed; you'll need to keep the brake on hard going down the
hills," replied Mr. Miller.

Bending over, so that those behind could not hear him, the driver said,
under his breath:

"Don't say anything; but, to tell the truth, I'm a little shaky about my
brake. It is none too strong, and I won't go out with it again until
it's fixed; but it can't be mended this side of Riverton, and I'm going
to push through as best I can."

"Well, if anything happens, just let us know when to jump," returned Mr.
Miller, with a reassuring smile, for he felt no anxiety, having perfect
confidence in Davis' ability to bring his coach safely to the journey's
end.

It was a lovely summer day, and in the early afternoon the coach bowled
smoothly along over the well-kept road, now rolling over a wooden bridge
on whose timbers the rapid tramp of the horses' feet sounded like
thunder, climbing the slope on the other side, then rattling down into
the valley, and up the opposite hill, almost at f