e
the Jehu up there slow down."

"Can't afford to lose the time," declared Jim. "I can reach the forward
step and make it all right."

"Risky," said the engineer, "but that fact won't stop you."

He was correct, it did not, and the driver almost fell off his box in
astonishment when he saw Jim's head at his elbow.

"Hey! what's this!" he yelled, as he clubbed his whip to strike. "Oh!
it's you is it, Mister," he changed his tone when he saw who it was. "By
thunder! I thought I was to be kilt."

"I'll sit in front here, Bill," said Jim genially. "I want to keep an
eye open to see that that greaser don't give us the slip."

"He's there in that hack yet," assured the driver; "he hain't had a
chance to jump out yit."

"They ain't pulling ahead are they?" inquired Jim, anxiously.

"Holding 'em level going down this hill," replied the driver. "My horse
is a leetle heavy for a down grade, but you will see something different
when we are going up hill or on the flat."

"I believe you," said Jim heartily; "that horse of yours is a good one."

"Paid five hundred for him, he ought to be," declared his owner proudly.

Inside the hack the engineer was making himself as comfortable as
possible. His feet were upon the opposite seat, the green carriage robe
was wrapped snugly around him and his head was dented back into the soft
cushions. He was thoroughly enjoying the chase in his own way. The
lurching of the vehicle did not disturb him, and he felt a certain
pleasure in the freedom from any immediate responsibility. There was an
excitement, too, in not knowing where the chase would carry. It was all
a strange section of the city where they now were. He could see the
ghostly fronts of long lines of houses, one not distinguishably
different from another, but as similar as if they had been sawn from
the same block of wood. The fog palliated many a monstrosity of wooden
ornament, little balcony, or carved pinnacle.

If John Berwick was quiescent on the inside of the hack, Jim was on the
_qui vive_ on the outside. He had no idea of the direction in which they
were going, but he was determined never to lose sight of that particular
hack. At this moment they reached the bottom of a long hill. An eddy of
air lifted the fog aside for an instant and Jim saw a head thrust out of
the window of the hack.

"Geewillikins!" he exclaimed, wrathfully; "that isn't the greaser!"

Sure enough the head was not that belonging to the Mexican