and give
them a sight of the danger. Oh, that the running gear held! That the
king-bolt, new, thank God, proved the words of the boasting blacksmith
to be true! He soon came to the beginning of a three-hundred-yard stretch
of perfect road and he hazarded a quick backward glance. Instantly his
eyes were to the front again, but his brain retained the picture he had
seen, retained it perfectly and in wonderful clearness. He saw that the
Apaches were no longer a mile away, but that they had gained upon him
a very little, so very little that only an eye accustomed to gauging
changing distances could have noticed the difference. And he also saw
that the group was no longer compact, but that it was already spreading
out into the dreaded, deadly crescent, a crescent with the best horses at
the horns, which would endeavor to sweep forward and past the coach,
drawing closer together until the circle was complete, with the stage
as the center.

Another yell burst from him, and again and again the whip writhed and
hissed and cracked, and a new burst of speed was the reward. Well it
was that the horses were the best and most enduring to be found on the
range. He was dependent on his team, he and his passengers. He could not
hope to take up his rifle until the last desperate stand. Oh, if he only
had the sheriff, the cool, laughing, accurate sheriff with him to lie
against the seat and shoot for his sisters! Already the bullets were
dropping behind him, but he did not know of it. They dropped, as yet,
many yards too short, and he could not hear the flat reports. The wind
which roared and whistled past his ears spared him that.

A stumble! But up again and without injury, for a master hand held the
reins, a hand as cunning as the eyes were calculating. Could Bill's
scoffing friends see him now their scoffing would freeze on lips open in
admiring astonishment. If he attained nothing more in his life he was
justifying his creation. He was doing his best, and doing it wonderfully
well. Long since had fear left him. He was now only a superb driver,
an alert, quick-thinking master of his chosen trade. He thrilled with
a peculiar elation, for was he not playing his hand against death? A
lone hand and with no hope of a lucky draw. All he could hope for was that
he be not unlucky and lose the game because of the weakness of a wheel,
or the traces, or that new king-bolt; that the splendid, ugly, terrorized
units of his sextet would last until