ailor
wanted Marco to go in with him and get a drink. Marco thought that he
meant a drink of water, but it was really a drink of spirits which
was intended. Marco, however, refused to go, saying that he was not
thirsty; and so they went on up the hill. At the top of the hill, the
stage-coach stopped for the pedestrians to come up. There was also
another passenger there to get in,--a woman, who came out from a
farm-house near by. The driver asked the sailor if he was not willing
to ride outside, in order to make room for the new passenger. But he
would not. He was afraid. He said he would not ride five miles outside
for a month's wages. Marco laughed at the sailor's fears, and he
immediately asked Forester to let _him_ ride outside. Forester
hesitated, but on looking up, and seeing that there was a secure seat,
with a good place to hold on, he consented. So Marco clambered up
and took his seat with the driver, while the other passengers
re-established themselves in the stage.

Chapter II.

Accidents.

Marco liked his seat upon the outside of the stage-coach very much. He
could see the whole country about him to great advantage. He was very
much interested in the scenery, not having been accustomed to travel
among forests and mountains. The driver was a rough young man,--for
the boy who drove the coach up to the door was not the regular driver.
He was not disposed to talk much, and his tone and manner, in what he
did say, did not indicate a very gentle disposition. Marco, however,
at last got a little acquainted with him, and finally proposed to the
driver to let _him_ drive.

"Nonsense," said he, in reply, "you are not big enough to drive such a
team as this."

"Why, there was a boy, no bigger than I, that drove the horses up to
the door when we started, this morning," replied Marco.

"O yes,--Jerry,"--said the driver,--"but he'll break his neck one of
these days."

"I didn't see but that he drove very well," said Marco.

The driver was silent.

"Come," persisted Marco, "let me drive a little way, and I'll do as
much for you some day."

"You little fool," said the driver, "you never can do any thing for
me. You are not big enough to be of any use at all."

Marco thought of the fable of the mouse and the lion, but since his
new companion was in such ill-humor, he thought he would say no more
to him. A resentful reply to the epithet "little fool," did in fact
rise to his lips, but he suppressed it