Then the time did not drag so. She wanted to talk to Jim, yet did not,
because of the other passengers. Jim himself appeared influenced by
their absorption in themselves. Besides, the keen, ceaseless vigilance
of the guard was not without its quieting effect. Danger lurked ahead
in the bends of that road. Joan remembered hearing Kells say that the
Bannack stage had never been properly held up by road-agents, but that
when he got ready for the job it would be done right. Riding grew to be
monotonous and tiresome. With the warmth of the sun came the dust and
flies, and all these bothered Joan. She did not have her usual calmness,
and as the miles steadily passed her nervousness increased.

The road left the valley and climbed between foot-hills and wound
into rockier country. Every dark gulch brought to Joan a trembling,
breathless spell. What places for ambush! But the stage bowled on.

At last her apprehensions wore out and she permitted herself the luxury
of relaxing, of leaning back and closing her eyes. She was tired,
drowsy, hot. There did not seem to be a breath of air.

Suddenly Joan's ears burst to an infernal crash of guns. She felt
the whip and sting of splinters sent flying by bullets. Harsh yells
followed, then the scream of a horse in agony, the stage lurching and
slipping to a halt, and thunder of heavy guns overhead.

Jim yelled at her--threw her down on the seat. She felt the body of the
guard sink against her knees. Then she seemed to feel, to hear through
an icy, sickening terror.

A scattering volley silenced the guns above. Then came the pound of
hoofs, the snort of frightened horses.

"Jesse Smith! Stop!" called Jim, piercingly.

"Hold on thar, Beady!" replied a hoarse voice. "Damn if it ain't Jim
Cleve!"

"Ho, Gul!" yelled another voice, and Joan recognized it as Blicky's.

Then Jim lifted her head, drew her up. He was white with fear.

"Dear--are--you--hurt?"

"No. I'm only--scared," she replied.

Joan looked out to see bandits on foot, guns in hand, and others
mounted, all gathering near the coach. Jim opened the door, and,
stepping out, bade her follow. Joan had to climb over the dead guard.
The miner and the young man huddled down on their seat.

"If it ain't Jim an' Kells's girl--Dandy Dale!" ejaculated Smith.
"Fellers, this means somethin'.... Say, youngster, hope you ain't
hurt--or the girl?"

"No. But that's not your fault," replied Cleve. "Why did you want to
plug the coach