houted, "Whoa there!"

The horses were brought up with a jerk that was well nigh fatal to the
assortment of dignity inside the coach. A loud roaring could be heard,
both ahead and in the rear, a sharp splitting like a fusillade of
pistol shots, then a creaking and tearing of timbers. The driver bent
suddenly forward.

"Gid ap!" he cried, and the horses sprang forward with a lurch. He
swung them around a sharp bend with a skillful hand and poised his
weight above the brake as they plunged at terrific speed down a steep
grade. The roaring was louder than ever now, and it became deafening
as they suddenly emerged from the thick underbrush at the bottom of
the declivity.

"Caught, by gravy!" ejaculated the driver, and, for the second time,
he brought the coach to an abrupt stop.

"Do see what is the matter, Ralph," said the blonde matron
impatiently.

Thus commanded, the young man swung out and asked the driver about it.

"Paintsville dam's busted," he was informed. "I been a-lookin' fer it
this many a year, an' this here freshet done it. You see the holler
there? Well, they's ten foot o' water in it, an' it had ort to be
stone dry. The bridge is tore out behind us, an' we're stuck here till
that water runs out. We can't git away till to-morry, anyways."

He pointed out the peculiar topography of the place, and Ralph got
back in the coach.

"We're practically on a flood-made island," he exclaimed, with one eye
on the pretty daughter, "and we shall have to stop over night at that
quaint, old-fashioned inn we passed a few moments ago."

The pretty daughter's eyes twinkled, and he thought he caught a swift,
direct gleam from under the long lashes--but he was not sure.

"Dear me, how annoying," said the blonde matron, but the brunette
matron still stared, without the slightest trace of interest in
anything else, at the infinitesimal spot she had selected on the
affronting window-shade.

The two men gave sighs of resignation, and cast carefully concealed
glances at each other, speculating on the possibility of a cigar and a
glass, and maybe a good story or two, or possibly even a game of poker
after the evening meal. Who could tell what might or might not happen?

III

When the stage drew up in front of the little hotel, it found Uncle
Billy Tutt prepared for his revenge. In former days the stage had
always stopped at the Tutt House for the noonday meal. Since the new
railway was built through the adjoinin