A NIECE OF SNAPSHOT HARRY'S


I

There was a slight jarring though the whole frame of the coach, a
grinding and hissing from the brakes, and then a sudden jolt as the
vehicle ran upon and recoiled from the taut pole-straps of the now
arrested horses. The murmur of a voice in the road was heard, followed
by the impatient accents of Yuba Bill, the driver.

"Wha-a-t? Speak up, can't ye?"

Here the voice uttered something in a louder key, but equally
unintelligible to the now interested and fully awakened passengers.

One of them dropped the window nearest him and looked out. He could see
the faint glistening of a rain-washed lantern near the wheelers' heads,
mingling with the stronger coach lights, and the glow of a distant open
cabin door through the leaves and branches of the roadside. The sound
of falling rain on the roof, a soft swaying of wind-tossed trees, and an
impatient movement on the box-seat were all they heard. Then Yuba Bill's
voice rose again, apparently in answer to the other.

"Why, that's half a mile away!"