briskly over his haunches, quickening his movements, but driving the
major into a furious passion. The sudden twitch landed us both upon
the sandy road, under the pile of sheepskins we had used for a seat.
In this dilemma the major called loudly for assistance, swearing
that if the stage driver would but stop he would give him battle to
his satisfaction. This only served to increase the mirth of the
passengers, who rather encouraged their mischievous driver, now
looking round and making grimaces at his adversary. The major,
however, was not long in extricating himself from the sheepskins,
when, for want of a better weapon, he seized a string of tin pints,
and running as fast as his short legs would carry him, hurled them
one after another at the stage coach. Ceasing to afford the
passengers this amusement only when his wind gave out, the major
swore by his military reputation that if they would only give him an
opportunity he would whip the stageload before breakfast, and think
it a mere trifle. The coach now rolled out of sight, and the major
sat down by the road side to contemplate the loss of his tin cups,
which like spilled apples, were strewn along the sand. It would not
do to suffer so great a loss, so he girded up his nether garments,
and commenced picking up his cups, lamenting their bruises as he
strung them upon his string. Finding that we sustained no other loss
than that of the major's temper, I set his team to rights, and,
having mounted the sheepskins, we were ready to proceed on our
journey. "Such an insult as that offered to me when I was in the
Mexican war," said he, mounting over the wheel with one of those
expletives much used among soldiers, "and I had demolished the lot
at a stroke of my sword. Zounds! why can't stage drivers be
gentlemen?"

This was the first intimation I had had of his being a hero of the