lamb under the
gaze of the other's popgun. "Ye see, we broke a pole this side o'
Custer City, an' that set us behind several p'ints o' ther compass."

"What have you aboard to-night worth examining!"

"Nothin', yer honor. Only a stageful uv passengers, this trip."

"Bah! you are getting poor. Get down from off the box, there!"

The driver trembled, and hesitated.

"_Get_ down!" again commanded the road-agent, leveling his revolver,
"before I drop you."

In terror McGucken made haste to scramble to the ground, where he
stood with his teeth chattering and knees knocking together in a
manner pitiable to see. "Ha, ha, ha!" That wild laugh of Deadwood
Dick's made the welkin ring out a weird chorus. "Bill McGucken, you
should join the regular army, you are so brave. Ha, ha, ha!"

And the laugh was taken up by the road-knights, concealed in the
thicket, and swelled into a wild, boisterous shout.

Poor McGucken trembled in his boots in abject terror, while those
inside the coach were pretty well scared.

"Driver!" said the Prince of the Road, coolly, after the laugh, "go
you to the passengers who grace this rickety shebang and take up a
collection. You needn't cum to me wi' less'n five hundred ef ye don't
want me to salt ye!"

Bowing humble obeisance, McGucken took off his hat, and made for the
stage door.

"Gentlemen!" he plead, "there is need o' yer dutchin' out yer dudads
right liberal ef ye've enny purtic'lar anticypation an' desire ter git
ter Deadwood ter-night. Dick, the Road-Agent, are law an' gospel
heerabouts, I spec'late!"

"Durned a cent'll I fork!" growled one old fellow, loud enough to be
heard. "I ain't afeerd o' all the robber Dicks from here ter
Jerusalum."

But when he saw the muzzle of the young road-agent's revolver gazing
in through the window, he suddenly changed his mind, and laid a
plethoric pocketbook into McGucken's already well-filled hat.

The time occupied in making the collection was short, and in a few
moments the Jehu handed up his battered "plug" to the Prince of the
Road for inspection.

Coolly Deadwood Dick went over the treasure, as if it were all
rightfully his own; then he chucked hat and all into one of his
saddle-bags, after which he turned his attention toward the stage. As
he did so he saw for the first time the two passengers on top, and as
he gazed at them a gleam of fire shot into his eyes and his hands
nervously griped at his weapon.

"Alexander Filmore, you he