ween them two big
rocks, most probable," he concluded. "Not havin' no ha'r to lose, I 'm
fer goin' back."

With an oath of relief, the driver released his brake, and skilfully
swung the leaders around, the coach groaning as it took the sharp turn.
The man on the ground caught a swiftly passing glimpse of the young
woman's face within, and strode hurriedly forward as the coach started.

"Hold on there, pardner," he commanded sternly. "This poor bronc'
won't travel another mile. There 's plenty of room for me inside, and
I 'll turn the tired devil loose. Hold on, I say!"

The driver once again slapped on the brake, growling and reluctant, his
anxious eyes searching the trail in both directions. Hamlin quietly
uncinched his saddle, flinging it to the coach roof; the bridle
followed, and then, with a slap on the haunch of the released animal,
he strode to the stage door, thrust his Henry rifle within, and took
the vacant seat beside Gonzales. With a sudden crack of the driver's
whip the four horses leaped forward, and the coach careened on the
slope of the trail, causing the passengers to clutch wildly to keep
from being precipitated into a mass on the floor. As the traces
straightened, Miss Molly, clinging desperately to a strap, caught her
first fair glance at the newcomer. His hat was tilted back, the light
revealing lines of weariness and a coating of the gray, powdery dust of
the alkali desert, but beneath it appeared the brown, sun-scorched
skin, while the gray eyes looking straight at her, were resolute and
smiling. His rough shirt, open at the throat, might have been the
product of any sutler's counter; he wore no jacket, and the broad
yellow stripe down the leg of the faded blue trousers alone proclaimed
him a soldier. He smiled across at her, and she lowered her eyes,
while his glance wandered on toward the others.

"Don't seem to be very crowded to-day," he began, genially addressing
Moylan. "Not an extremely popular route at present, I reckon. Mining,
pardner?"

"No; post-trader at Fort Marcy."

"Oh, that's it," his eyebrows lifting slightly. "This Indian business
is a bad job for you then." His eyes fell on his seatmate. "Well, if
this is n't little Gonzales!--You 've got a good ways from home."

"Si, senor!" returned the Mexican brokenly. "I tink I not remem."

"No, I reckon not. I'm not one of your class; cards and I never did
agree. I shut up your game once down at Union; night Has