window, leaned far out over the wheel. As she did so, a man sprang
into the trail from behind a wall of rock, and shouted hoarsely. He
was covered to his knees with a black mantle. His face was hidden by
a blood-red mask.

"Throw up your hands!" he commanded. There was a sharp creaking as
the brakes locked, and from the driver's seat an amazed oath. The
stage stopped with a violent jerk, and Mrs. Truesdall pitched gently
forward toward her niece.

"I really believe I was asleep, Helen," she murmured. "What are we
waiting for?"

"I think we are held up," said Miss Post.

The stage had halted beyond the wall of rock, and Miss Post looked
behind it, but no other men were visible, only a horse with his
bridle drawn around a stone. The man in the mask advanced upon the
stage, holding a weapon at arm's-length. In the moonlight it flashed
and glittered evilly. The man was but a few feet from Miss Post, and
the light fell full upon her. Of him she could see only two black
eyes that flashed as evilly as his weapon. For a period of suspense,
which seemed cruelly prolonged, the man stood motionless, then he
lowered his weapon. When he opened his lips the mask stuck to them,
and his words came from behind it, broken and smothered. "Sorry to
trouble you, miss," the mask said, "but I want that man beside you to
get out."

Miss Post turned to the travelling salesman. "He wants you to get
out," she said.