The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1888-07-27

breath, he slowly raised his arms. But
when his left elbow was high as his
shoulder with his right hand he press
ed the trigger of the revolver in his
pocket.
There was a mufied report, shrek |
and curse followed by another re-
port, then another and another, con-
fused and intermingled, the sharp
crack of the rifle ringing out over the
duller noise of the pistols. When the
sounds ceased the man in the road was
crawling on his hands and knees to-
ward the shadow of oaks whence he
had emerged. There was no one on
the box but the Lieutenant and he was
standing erect. The next moment he
pitched head first over the dashboard
on to the off-horses back, and from
there rolled on TO the road. 1t needed
but this to goad the frightened AMI
mails into stampede, and, with the
lines under their heels, kicking and
shying, they galloped out over the
prairie.
1t is not easy for two horses to run
away with Concord coach, especially
after coming up Stoney Creek grade.
And so, after the stage had numbered
and lurched at their heels for half
mile or so, the horses came down to
trot, and then to walk, and finally
stood still and gazed around trembling
and ready for second flight. The
moment that the vehicle stopped the
yelled face of the lady passenger ap-
peared at the door an her terror
stricken voice cried, but almost maud
IDLY, ''My Godl what has happened?'
Aroused from troubled sleep by the
report of pistol, followed by mans
shrek, more shots, curses and groans,
she had opened her eyes just in time
to see heavy body fall over the wheel
and on the ground Then the stage
had started forward the wheel going
over the thing on the ground W tn a
sickening jolt. As the stage bounded
on she had been thrown violently to
and fro, clinging convulsively to her
baby, unable to realize what this grisly
horror of the night might be. With
shaking hands she now unfastened the
door, and, stepping out, found herself
alone in the awful silence and solitude
of the night.
Hark! what was that? She tore her
veil from her head, and with it came
her hat. Great masses of black hair
fell down her shoulders, and white
young face shone out in the moonlight,
lovely even in its terror. The noise
was but the piping of an insect, but it
sounded like distant shrek. Then
the wind stirred the dry buffalo grass,
and it seemed to the psnic-stricken wo-
man as though it was the voices of
men pursuing. Her hair rose and all
the blood rallied in her heart. She
would have tainted had it not beer
for the wailing of the dependent baby
in her arms. What should she do
Her first impulse was to run from wha,
might be behind her. But her feeble
limbs failed at the sight of the wild
plains and obstructing sagebrush. i
she could but get upon the stage aud
drive. She went to the horses anG
spoke to them. One of them whinet
in reply, and that encouraged her
! She crept between them, talking t
them all the time in trembling, be
seechiDg tones, and got the lines ou
from beneath their hoofs. Then, hold
ing the reins and the baby on one arm
she scrambled on the wheel, and from
there to the drivers seat. Everything
was so big, the lines, the seat, tn
brake, her little feet did not reach tn
dash board but rested on some sack
of barley that filed the forward boot
, In this barley she made a nest for tn
, baby. When she was ready to star
{ it was evident that she was not ignor
: ant of driving. She held the lines an
, whip like the amateur drivers of tn
) New York coaching clubs. The horse
had been restive during these prolong
4 ed preparations, and they started O.
: freely at her timorous word.
CHAPTER II.--A DRIVE FOR LIFE.
2 And now the distraction of drivin
t and the sense of motion diminished he
? first ghastly horror, and replaced
: with nervous excitement. She had n
= difficulty in finding the road, the horse
. | IuOh neT UaCh W IL. w hch nnc letCi
y ed it, however, she stopped to loo
t around, and determined which wa
e led to Pack City. 1t would be frigh
h full to make mistake, and drive bac
n to that awful tragedy. She thougl
e with shudder of what might be ther
# dead or Lying, in the moon-lit road {
IS in the blackness of the bushes. 81
y wondered what had become of tt
t, driver. Was 1t his body she had se'
Is fall from the stage? He must
'e either dead or wounded; perhaps
1t was only wounded. She would ser
l. back help instantly from Pack Cit
p But when she decided on the directit
rs she still hesitated. The recollection
IS the tall, broad shouldered young drive
ir who had been so kind and courteo
81 to her, persisted in obtruding itself
a her mind. Perhaps if he was on
lie wounded he might be dying now +
a want of little help. He had help
lt her in her need; he had helped h
IL baby. In common humanity oug
,e she not to go back to his assistant
g Was it not cowardly to take the sta
n and desert him? Longing to go t
g. other way, and weeping hysterical
ss she finally turned the reluctant hor'
n, toward the canyon.
s. The moon had lit up the vicinity
ut the scrub oaks by the time the sta
e, moved slowly back on the scene. !
Id was silent and deserted. Suddenly |
n horses snorted and shied at a mass
ne blue cloth lying in the road. The v
I'd man turned the team to one side a
IN drove it against some trees. TIL
IT, taking her baby in her arms she or,
re down from her perch, and, starting
IS, every sound, stole her way to the pr
n trate form. 1t was the drivers Fl
which she uncovered, as ghastly VIII
ed as her own and smirched with bic
~ and dust. Then she slipped her ha
a under his coat and laid it over
ne heat. 1t was still beating. Hurried
IT. she searched his pockets for the fl
nd that he had used in her service but
an few hours before. 1t was her turn NJ
She had lifted his head aud poured
u" raw whisky generously down