o more until they got to Tip Top, when
Clara still closely veiled, rode up to the stage office just as the
coach, half filled with passengers, was about to start. Springing from
her horse, she went up to Wool and said:

"Here, man, take this horse back to Hurricane Hall! Tell Major Warfield
that Miss Black remains at the Hidden House in imminent danger! Ask him
to ride there and bring her home! Tell Miss Black when you see her that
I reached Tip Top safe and in time to take the coach. Tell her I will
never cease to be grateful! And now, here is a half eagle for your
trouble! Good-by, and God bless you!" And she put the piece in his hand
and took her place in the coach, which immediately started.

As for Wool! From the time that Clara had thrown aside her veil and
began to speak to him he had stood staring and staring--his
consternation growing and growing--until it had seemed to have turned
him into stone--from which state of petrefaction he did not recover
until he saw the stage coach roll rapidly away, carrying
off--whom?--Capitola, Clara or the evil one?--Wool could not have told
which! He presently astounded the people about the stage office by
leaving his horses and taking to his heels after the stage coach,
vociferating:

"Murder! murder! help! help! stop thief! stop thief! stop the coach!
stop the coach!"

"What is the matter, man?" said a constable, trying to head him.

But Wool incontinently ran over that officer, throwing him down and
keeping on his headlong course, hat off, coat-tail streaming and legs
and arms flying like the sails of a windmill, as he tried to overtake
the coach, crying:

"Help! murder! head the horses! Stop the coach! Old marse told me not
to lose sight of her! Oh, for hebben's sake, good people, stop the
coach!"

When he got to a gate, instead of taking time to open it, he rolled
himself somersault-like right over it! When he met man or woman,
instead of turning from his straight course, he knocked them over and
passed on, garments flying and legs and arms circulating with the
velocity of a wheel.

The people whom he had successively met and overthrown in his course,
picking themselves up and getting into the village, reported that there
was a furious madman broke loose, who attacked every one he met.

And soon every man and boy in the village who could mount a horse
started in pursuit. Only race horses would have beaten the speed with
which Wool ran, urged on by fear. It was