not used to queer things. And this road is frightfully narrow. If a load
of hay or a big Concord coach should come along, I can't think what we
should do. I see that Dr. Hope drives carefully, but yet--You don't think
we shall meet anything of the kind to-day, do you, Doctor?"

"Not a Concord coach, and certainly not a hay-wagon, for they don't make
hay up here in the mountains."

"Well, that is a relief. I didn't know. Ellen she always says, 'Mother,
you're a real fidget;' but when one grows old, and has valves in the heart
as I have, you never--We might meet one of those big pedler's wagons,
though, and they frighten horses worse than anything. Oh, what's that
coming now? Let us get out, Dr. Hope; pray, let us all get out."

"Sit still, ma'am," said the doctor, sternly, for Mrs. Watson was wildly
fumbling at the fastening of the door. "Mary, put your arm round Mrs.
Watson, and hold her tight. There'll be a real accident, sure as fate, if
you don't." Then in a gentler tone, "It's only a buggy, ma'am; there's
plenty of room. There's no possible risk of a pedler's wagon. What on
earth should a pedler be doing up here on the side of Cheyenne!
Prairie-dogs don't use pomatum or tin-ware."

"Oh, I didn't know," repeated poor Mrs. Watson, nervously. She watched the
buggy timorously till it was safely past; then her spirits revived.

"Well," she cried, "we're safe this time; but I call it tempting
Providence to drive so fast on such a rough road. If all canyons are as
wild as this, I sha'n't ever venture to go into another."

"Bless me! this is one of our mildest specimens," said Dr. Hope, who