ng risked by miners who were
sending it eastward.

What gold was to be sent out was always kept a secret, known only to the
senders, to Landlord Larry, and the driver, and though it was taking
chances to let it go, the senders were risking it, as gamblers chance
money in large sums upon the turn of a card.

Then, too, there was a very strange feature in the holding up of the
coaches, and that was the fact that they had never been halted on the
outward run, no matter how much gold they carried out, but always when
bringing back to Last Chance the exchange in bank-notes.

The road-agents knew that they could carry large sums in money where
they could not be bothered with gold in bulk, was the reason that
Landlord Larry assigned for the attacks being made only on the westward
runs of the coaches.

Not a passenger was to go, and Harding sang out in a cheerful tone:

"All ready."

"Go," cried Larry, and the vehicle rolled away in a manner that showed
that the young miner was a good driver, as he had asserted that he was.

The crowd cheered wildly, the voices echoing down the canyon as he drove
along, and now and then he would raise his hat to those who greeted him
from their cabins and mines as he went along.

Out of the valley he turned, swinging at a brisk trot along through
canyons, over hills, up mountains, by the way of narrow passes and down
again to the valleys.

He reached the relay-station nearest Last Chance, and made known to the
stock-tender the fate of old Huck.

"You goes next, pard, for it won't be long afore Doctor Dick will come
along and tell me that poor Hal Harding has gone under," said the
sympathetic stock-tender.

"Think so?"

"Sure of it."

"Why Doctor Dick?"

"Waal, ef you gets kilt no other man in or out o' Last Chance will have
ther grit to drive ther old death-trap, for thet hearse you is sittin'
on is no more."

"It is an unlucky old vehicle, I admit, pard; but I'll be going," and
Harding drove on once more.

He had not seen a soul at the Dead Line. All was as quiet at that dread
spot as the forms of those who had lost their lives there.

Only the stockmen at the station greeted him on the way, and at night he
came to the halting-cabin a little ahead of time.

He had the same story to tell at each one of the relay-stations, about
the fate of old Huck, and an ominous shake of the head from those who
listened convinced him that they expected him to be the next victim.

The