stage station was
reached; here the horses were exchanged for fresher ones; the wayside
inn had its tables of provisions varying and varied as the region
traversed. If in the mountains, there were likely to be trout, saddle
of deer, steaks of bear; but if through the sands, there was provided
bacon or other coarser fare. Usually these crowds were joking and
jolly, unless tempered by something requiring more sobriety, but
always optimistic, for the fellow who became grouchy the while had
generally abundant occasion to repent and mend his ways.

One day, on a road not far from where this is being written, the old
coach was toiling up a long mountainside; the driver was drowsy and
the passengers had exhausted their newest repertoire of stories and
had lapsed into stillness such as often seizes a squeezed crowd. The
horses were permitted to take their time; the dust was deep, the sun
hot, and all possible stillness prevailed.

"Halt!" ordered a low voice very near the road.

The driver, Tom Myers, did not understand the command, and simply
looked up, half asleep, and said to the horses, "Gid-dap!"

"Halt!" came the words again, louder and unmistakable.

Myers halted. Standing at the end of an elongated bunch of pines where
he had been invisible until the heads of the horses appeared stood the
highwayman, with menacing gun covering the head of the driver.

"Throw out your treasure and mail!" came the command.

"I have mail, but no treasure," said my friend Tom, as he afterward
pointed out the spot and told the story. "Come and get it."

The lone robber rifled the sacks, turned the pockets of the travelers
inside out, and bade them drive on without imitating Lot's wife; he
was never caught.

To be sure, this is a tame story, and many readers doubtless can tell
one more thrilling; but this one is true.

The stagecoach is a thing of the past, but we still have the hardy,
dust-covered, mud-daubed teamster, who yet must haul the freight far
back into hills where for ages there will be no railway. To these,
Godspeed and good cheer! They live by the Trails; they eat at the
wheel; they sleep under the wagon; they are kindly and obliging even
when their heavily belled teams of six to fourteen or more head of
horses meet another loaded caravan in some narrow pass where the
highest engineering ability is needed to get by in safety; and they
never leave a fellow-traveler in distress.

AMONG THE HILLS