brushed the panels and sides of the coach, and effectually excluded any
view from its windows. Seen from the coach top, the horses appeared to
be cleaving their way through a dark, shining olive sea, that parted
before and closed behind them, as they slowly passed. The leaders were
just emerging from it, and Bill was gathering up his slackened reins,
when a peremptory voice called, "Halt!" At the same moment the coach
lights flashed upon a masked and motionless horseman in the road. Bill
made an impulsive reach for his whip, but in the same instant checked
himself, reined in his horses with a suppressed oath, and sat perfectly
rigid. Not so the expressman, who caught up his rifle, but it was
arrested by Bill's arm, and his voice in his ear!

"Too late!--we're covered!--don't be a d----d fool!"

The inside passengers, still encompassed by obscurity, knew only that
the stage had stopped. The "outsiders" knew, by experience, that they
were covered by unseen guns in the wayside branches, and scarcely moved.

"I didn't think it was the square thing to stop you, Bill, till you'd
got through your work," said a masterful but not unpleasant voice, "and
if you'll just hand down the express box, I'll pass you and the rest of
your load through free. But as we're both in a hurry, you'd better look
lively about it."

"Hand it down," said Bill gruffly to the expressman.

The expressman turned with a white check but blazing eyes to the
compartment below his seat. He lingered, apparently in some difficulty
with the lock of the compartment, but finally brought out the box and
handed it to another armed and masked figure that appeared mysteriously