at side was missing, but nothing was to be seen. In the distance
there appeared to be a faint splashing.

"Well," called out an impatient voice from the box above; "what do you
make it?" It was the authoritative accents of Yuba Bill, the driver, and
everybody listened eagerly for the reply.

It came faintly from the distance and the splashing. "Almost four feet
here, and deepening as you go."

"Dead water?"

"No--back water from the Fork."

There was a general movement towards the doors and windows. The
splashing came nearer. Then a light flashed on the trees, the windows,
and--two feet of yellow water peacefully flowing beneath them! The thin
female gave a slight scream.

"There's no danger," said the Expressman, now wading towards them with
the coach lamp in his hand. "But we'll have to pull round out of it and
go back to the Springs. There's no getting past this break to-night."

"Why didn't you let us know this before," said the heavy man indignantly
from the window.

"Jim," said the driver with that slow deliberation which instantly
enforced complete attention.

"Yes, Bill."

"Have you got a spare copy of that reg'lar bulletin that the Stage
Kempany issoos every ten minutes to each passenger to tell 'em where we
are, how far it is to the next place, and wots the state o' the weather
gin'rally?"

"No!" said the Expressman grimly, as he climbed to the box, "there's not
one left. Why?"

"Cos the Emperor of Chiny's inside wantin' one! Hoop! Keep your seats
down there! G'lang!" the whip cracked, there was a desperate splashing,
a backward and forward jolting of the coach, the glistening wet flanks
and tossing heads of the leaders seen for a moment opposite the windows,
a sickening swirl of the whole body of the vehicle as if parting from
its axles, a long straight dragging pull, and--presently the welcome
sound of hoofs once more beating the firmer ground.

"Hi! Hold up--driver!"

It was the editor's quiet friend who was leaning from the window.

"Isn't Wilkes's ranch just off here?"

"Yes, half a mile along the ridge, I reckon," returned the driver
shortly.

"Well, if you're not going on to-night, I'd get off and stop there."

"I reckon your head's level, stranger," said Bill approvingly; "for
they're about chock full at the Springs' House."

To descend, the passenger was obliged to pass out by the middle seat
and before the young editor. As he did so he cast a shy look on him and,
leaning ove