marines.
"Russell's Waggons," they were called, and there was no record of their
having being attacked.

The country, to which I was a stranger, appeared wild enough, with
hedgeless downs rolling up black and unshapely against the night.
But the coachman, who guessed what we carried, assured me that he had
always found the road perfectly safe. I remember asking him how long he
had been driving upon it: to which he gave no more direct answer than that
he had been born in these parts and knew them better than his Bible.
"And the same you may say of Jim," he added, with a jerk of his whip back
towards the guard.

"He has a cheerful taste in tunes," I remarked.

The fellow chuckled. "That's his favourite. 'My Lady's Coach' he calls
it, and--come to think of it--I never heard him sing any other."

"It doesn't sound like Tantivey." I strained my ears for the words of the
guard's song, and heard--

"The wheels go round without a sound
Or tramp or [inaudible] of whip--"

The words next following were either drowned by the wind or muffled and
smothered in the man's neck-cloths; but by-and-by I caught another line or
two--

"Ho! ho! my lady saith,
Step in and ride with me:
She takes the baby, white as death,
And jigs him on her knee.
The wheels go round without a sound--"

This seemed to be the refrain.

"The wheels go round without a sound
Or [inaudible again] horse's tread,
My lady's breath is foul as death,
Her driver has no head--"

"Huh!" grunted I, sinking my shoulders deeper in my overcoat. "A nice sort
of vehicle to meet, say on a night like this, at the next turn of the
road!"

The man peered at me suddenly, and leaned forward to shorten his reins,
for we were on the edge of a steepish dip downhill. The lamplight shone
on his huge forearm (as thick as an ordinary man's thigh) and on his
clumsy, muffled hands.

"Well, and so we might," he answered, picking up his whip again and
indicating the dark moorland on our left. "That's if half the tales be
true."

"Haunted?" I asked, scanning the darkness.

"Opposition coach--hearse and pair, driven by the Old Gentleman hisself.
For my part, I don't believe a word of it. Leastways, I've driven along
here often enough, and in most weathers, and I ha'n't met it yet."

"You're taking this bit pretty confidently anyhow," was my comment, as he
shortened rein again; for the hill proved