brush his clothes,--and, taking
off his hat, he attempted to round it out into shape again.

"What _is_ the matter, driver?" said the passengers.

"Nothing," replied he, "only that drunkard of a sailor tumbled off the
stage."

"Where?" "When?" exclaimed half a dozen voices. "Is he killed?"

"Killed? no," replied the driver; "I don't believe he is even
sobered."

Forester and another gentleman then urgently asked where he was, and
the driver told them that he was "back there a piece," as he expressed
it.

"What! lying in the road?" said Forester; "open the door, and let us
go and see to him."

"No," said the driver; "he has got off to the side of the road, safe.
I don't believe he's hurt any. Let him take care of himself, and we'll
drive on."

But Forester remonstrated strongly against leaving the poor sailor in
such a condition, and in such a place; and finally it was agreed that
the farmer should go down the road and see to him, so as to allow the
stage-coach with the passengers to go on.

Forester was not willing, however, to have Marco ride outside any
longer; and so they contrived to make room for him within. As Marco
descended from his high seat, the driver said to him, as he passed
him, in a low voice,

"How did you get the reins? I thought they all came down with me,
under the horses' heels."

"Yes," said Marco, "they did, and I climbed down upon the pole and got
them."

"Well," said the driver, "you're a smart boy. But don't tell them
inside that I tumbled off. Tell them I gave you the reins, and jumped
down to see the sailor."

After receiving this charge, Marco would have been under a strong
temptation to tell a falsehood, if the company in the coach had asked
him any questions about it. But they did not. They were so much
occupied in expressing their astonishment that the sailor did not
break his neck, that they asked very few questions, and after riding a
short time, they relapsed into silence again. The fact that both
the driver and the sailor escaped being seriously hurt, was not so
wonderful as it might seem. Horses have generally an instinctive
caution about not stepping upon any thing under their feet. If a
little child were lying asleep in the middle of a road, and a horse
were to come galloping along without any rider, the mother, who
should see the sight from the window of the house, would doubtless be
exceedingly terrified; but in all probability the horse would pass the
child w