The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1904-03-25

8uyo 00Ou80s Out now no UaIV uSIGi
giving Gray stupid. non-committal
greeting, and looking duly at him
through bleared eyes, The team
swishcd out Of the water and up the
rutty road, the driver swaying In his
seat and looking as though a fall In
to the dust would be an easy matter.
But Gray was not thinking of him.
He was thinking of his desperate luck
and what 1t meant to him. A rude
Wind blew down the gulch, and Gray's
eye took in a hawk that was breast
ing the breeze bravely. The soaring
bird sent his thoughts to Browning's
rabbi ben Ezra" in which he FAD
used to have faith. The strongest
couplet ran in his head:
''Then welcome each rebuff
That turns earths smoothness rough.
"Oh, what philosophy" he thought.
"A beaten man is to shake hands with
his bad luck, eh? What = lot OF clot-
ted rot!"
Jim's whip fell from his hand, and
he clapped on the brake, awkwardly,
nearly tumbling into the road.
Eyes. I'll get it for you-you poor,
drunken fool" said Gray. He got
down lightly over the wheel, and 60
ing back, picked up the whip and
gave it q savage crack. AS he passed
the coach he glanced in curiously at
the passengers. They were all mill
bands, going to work in the lumber
camps-all except two, who sat on the
back seat, and were pronouncedly
feminine as to dress, though not dis
tiuctive as to looks, because OF their
flimsy face covering.
Two trim pieces Of Calico" was
Gray's comment; "but what do they
want to wear wells for in all this dust
and heat? Should think they'd stifle."
He found Jim leaning back in his
seat with a world of WEAKNESS in bis
face, his eyes half closed and his hands
so relaxed that the lines were like to
fall from them.
"You en- drive six, can't yeh? asked
Jim, drowsily. awful tired t'-day.-
Been workin' ev'y day-s'een hours
day." He handed the reins to Gray,
who took them, gingerly, and with .
numbered sense of their complete suf-
ficiency as a test for his driving pow
ers. He had driven four-in-hand, and
thought he might manage the six-the
leaders were wonderfully knowing
brutes. He "got the hang of it" In u
few minutes and was soon cracking
the whip right merrily and studying
the intricacies of the brake. Relieved
OF his responsibility, Jim leaned back
still further, and in siding places,
when he was not threatening to fall
off the box, he was leaning Affection
ately upon the strained and fully &C.
cupied driver.
At the top of the ridge, where Gray
could look down into Squaw Valley.
and almost see the low roof of Old
Craig's groggery, a vision of the bar
room, with its blanket-covered poker
tables, the old frayed billiard table,
and the graphophone, squawking forth
"Just One GIRL" came to him, but
somehow it was not as welcome as 1t
was before the past hour in which he
had been trying to escape from Jim's
gin-soaked breath.
Scragly pines fought for footing
among great blocks Of granite at the
top of the ridge. If Gray Larkin's eyes
had been all for the horses he would
not have seen the streak of shining
steel that lay along the top of one of
the rocks or the SLOUGH hat behind it.
But he saw, and in an instant smelled
danger. He cracked his whip and the
"S-bar" horses strained in their COL
lars, the leaders dancing wildly.
'Shove up yer paws!'
The SLOUGH hat came around from
behind the rock, and there was long,
black mask hanging under it. The
wind switched the mask and almost
revealed the face beneath it. The
stage-robber's hand was flung up to
his chin to grasp and hold the mask,
and in that instant appeared Gray
Larkin's opportunity. There were not
ten. steps to the downward sweep Of
the Squaw Valley grade. His quick
whip Kissed and sang above the
horses and scourged the flinching
wheelers. The next whirl touched the
ambling off-horse of the middle pair,
and above the rattle Of the wheels rose
the voice of the devil-may-care driver,
who had caught the names of the
horses from the drunken Jim:
"Hey, hey, hey! Up there, Nell!
Get up, Jack!~ Bil-l-l!"
A shot rang from the ready gun in
the hands of the man with the black
mask
"Stop her! Stop herr" he demanded,
peremptorily. Pull her up or I'll
shot yeh all to pieces!"
Gray's answer was a quick and
terrific explosion of his whip, which
sent the leaders forward on the run.
Zwit! Zwit! sang two bullets, flying
past Gray's head, one of them grazing
his temple and sending warm stream
of blood down over his face. Screams
rang from the back seat and there
we're gruff protests from other parts
of the coach.
tsuo1d I'm ~, he'll k}11 ITO a11iD ha w1od