nes.

"The girl--what about her?" he asked, after some moments had elapsed.

"She will be as much to the way as the boy will."

"She? Well, we'll attend to her after we git him out of the way. He is
the worst obstacle to our path, at present. Maybe when you see the
girl you will take a fancy to her."

"Pish! I want no petticoats clinging to me--much less an ignorant
backwoods clodhopper. She is probably a fit mate for an Indian chief."

"You are too rough on the tender sex, boy," and the elder Filmore gave
vent to a disconnected laugh. "You must remember that your mother was
a woman."

"Was she?" Clarence bit the end of his waxed mustache, and mused over
his sire's startling announcement. "_You_ recollect that I never saw
her."

"D'ye carry poppin'-jays, pilgrims?" demanded Jehu, turning so
suddenly upon the two passengers as to frighten them out of their
wits.

"Popping-jays?" echoed Filmore, senior.

"Yas--shutin'-irons--rewolvers--patent perforatin' masheens."

"Yes, we are armed, if that is what you mean."

On dashed the stage through the echoing canyon--on plunged the
snorting horses, excited to greater efforts by the frequent
application of the cracking lash. The pines grew thicker, and the
moonlight less often darted its rays down athwart the road.

"Hey!" yelled a rough voice from within the stage "w'at d'ye drive so
fast fer? Ye've jonced the senses clean out uv a score o' us."

"Go to blazes!" shouts back Jehu, giving an extra crack to his whip.
"Who'n the name o' John Rodgers ar' drivin' this omnybust,
pilgrim?--you or I?"

"You'll floor a hoss ef ye don' mind sharp!"

"Who'n thunder wants ye to pay fer et, ef I do?" rings back,
tauntingly. "Reckon w'en Bill McGucken can't drive ther
thru-ter-Deadwood stage as gude as ther average, he'll suspend
bizness, or hire _you_ ter steer to his place."

On, on rumbles the stage, down through a lower grade of the canyon,
where no moonlight penetrates, and all is of Stygian darkness.

The two passengers on top of the stage shiver with dread, and even old
Bill McGucken peers around him, a trifle suspiciously.

It is a wild spot, with the mountains rising on each side of the road
to a stupendous hight, the towering pines moaning their sad, eternal
requiem; the roar of the great wheels over the hardpan bottom; the
snorting of the fractious lead-horses; the curses and the cracking of
Jehu's whip; the ring of iron-shod hoofs--it is a place and moment
c