Twice-a-week plain dealer. (Cresco, Howard County, Iowa) 1895-1913, 1906-05-01

him, her voice shrill with alarm. Aunt
Fanny was crouching on the floor of
the coach between the seats, grooming
and praying
stop! Where are you going?" cried
Beverly, putting her head recklessly
through the window. II the man heard
her he gave no evidence of the fact.
His face was set forward, and lie was
guiding the horses with a firm, I'M
quivering hand. The coach ratified
and bounded along the dangerous way
hewn in the side of the mountain. A
misstep or false turn might easily
start the clumsy vehicle rolling down
the declivity on the right, The convict
was taking desperate chances and,
with cool, calculating brain, prepared
to leap to the ground in case of acct
dent and save himself, without q
thought for the victims inside.
"Stop! Turn around!' she cried in a
frenzy. eve shall be killed. Are you
crazy"
By this time they had struck a de-
scent In the road and were rushing
along at breakneck speed into Cypress
I've shadows that bore the first i'm
prints Of night. Realizing at last that
her cries were falling upon purposely
deaf ears, Beverly Calhoun sank back
into the seat, weak and terror stricken
1t was plain to her that the horses were
not running away, for the man had
been flashing them furiously. There
was but one conclusion-he was DELHI
erately taking her farther into the
mountain Businesses, his purpose
known only to himself. A hundred ter
rOrs presented themselves to her as
she lay huddled against the side of the
coach, her eyes closed tightly, her ten
der body tossed furiously about with
the sway Of the vehicle. There was the
fundamental fear that she would be
dashed to death down the side of the
mountain, but apart from this her
quick brain was evolving all sorts of
possible endings-none short of abso-
lutte disaster.
Even as she prayed that something
might intervene to check the mad rush
and to deliver her from the horrors Of
the moment the raucous voice of the
driver was heard calling to his horses,
and the pace became slower. The aw-
full rocking and the jolting grew less
severe, the clatter resolved itself into a
broken rumble, and then the coach
stopped with mighty lurch.
Dragging herself from the corner,
poor Beverly Calhoun, no longer dis
dainful heroine, gazed piteously out
into the shadows, expecting the muir
derous blade Of the driver to meet her
as she did so. Pauloff had swung from
the box Of the coach and was peering
first into the woodland below and then
upon the rocks to the left. He wore the
expression of man trapped and seek
Ing means Of escape. Suddenly he dart
ed behind the coach, almost brushing
against Beverly's hat as he passed the
window. She opened her lips to call
him, but even as she did SO he took
to his heels and raced back over the
road they had Travelled SO precipitously.
Overcome by surprise and dismay,
she only could watch the flight in ST.
lence. Less than hundred feet from
where the coach was standing he turn
ed to the right and was lost among the
rocks. Ahead, four horses, covered
with sweat, were painting and heaving
as II In great distress after their mad
run, Aunt Fanny was still moaning
and praying by turns in the bottom Of
the carriage Darkness was settling
down upon the pass, and objects hun
dred yards away were swallowed by
the gloom. There was no sound save
the blowing Of the tired animals and
the moaning Of the old negress. Bever-
~ realized with sinking heart that
they We're alone and helpless in the
mountains, with night upon them.
She never knew where the strength
and courage came from, but she forced
open the stubborn coach door and
scrambled to the ground, looking fran.
hcally in all directions for single
sign Of hope In the most despairing
terror she had ever experienced she
started toward the lead horses, hoping
against hope that at least one Of her
men had remained faithful.
A man stepped quietly from the inner
side of the road and advanced with the
uncertain tread Of one who Is overcome
by amazement. He was a stranger
and wore an odd, uncouth garb. The
falling light told her that he was moi
| one of her late protectors. She shranl
back with faint cry Of alarm, ready
to fly to the protecting arms of hopeless
Aunt Fanny If her uncertain legs could
carry her At the same instant another
ragged stranger, then two, three, -four
or five, appeared as IL by magic, some
near her, others approaching from the
shadows.
"Who-who in heavens name ART
| your" she faltered. The sound of hel
own voice in measure restored the
courage that had been paralyzed. I'm
consciously this slim sprig Of southern
valor threw back her shoulders and
lifted her chin. If they We're brigands
they should not find her a cringine
coward. After all, she was Calhoun
The man she had first observed stop
ped near the horses heads and peered
intently at her from beneath broad
and rakish hat. He was tall and APP
peared to be more respectfully clad
than his fellows, although there was
not one who looked as though he pos
sessed a complete outfit of wearing ap
parel.
Poor wayfarers, may 1t please your
highness," replied the tall yagabond
| bowling low To her surnrisa he smoke