The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1906-11-14

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 a man trapped and seek
ing means Of escape. Suddenly he dart
ed behind the coach, almost brushing
against Beyerly'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 fight in si-
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
es If 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-
ly realized with sinking heart that
they were 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
tically in all directions for a 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
failing light told her that he was not
one of her late protectors. She shrank
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 if by magic, some
near her, others approaching from TIE
shadows.
tWho-who in heavens name are
your she faltered. The sound Of her
owu voice in measure restored the
courage that had been paralyzed. Un-
consciously this slim sprig of southern
valor threw back her shoulders and
lifted her chin. If they were brigands
they should not find her cringing
coward. After all, she was Calhoun.
The man she had first observed stop
pee near ;he horses heads 2.d peered
intentIy at ner from beneath a broad
anG! rakish hat tie was tai and ap-
peared 70 be more respectfully clsG
than bis fellows. although taereesvas
not one who lookef; as though he pas
sessed a complete outfit of wearing ap.
parel.
"Poor wayfarers, may it please yoW
hlghness," replied the tall vagabonde
bowling low. To her surpriseAhe spose
in very good English. His voice was
clear, and there was tinge Of polite
Irony in the tones. But all people are
alike in the mountains. The king and
the thief, the princess and the jade
live in the common fold.' And his
hat swung so low that it touched the
ground.
t'I am powerless. 7 only implore yoU
to take what valuables you may ind
and let US proceed unharmedw she
crio'7, rapidly. eager to have it over.
''T'ray, Row con your highness pro-
ceeo.! You have no gui !e, no driver.
no escort" said the man mockingly.
Beverly looked at him appealingly, ut
terly without words to reply. The
tears were yelling to her eyes, and her
heart was throbbing like that Of cap
tured bird. In after life she was able
to picture in her minds eye all the
details Of that tableau in the noun
tain pass-the hopeless coach, the
stealning horses, the rakish bandit and
his picturesque men, the towering
crags and a mite Of a girl facing the
end Of everything.
"Your highness is said to be brave,
but even your wonderful courage can