"There's a wagon, too," the sheriff added.

The sound was rapidly approaching along the road.

All listened intently, and soon distinguished the steady pounding of
hoofs and the rumble of wheels.

A few moments later they caught view of two bright lamps on the vehicle,
shining ahead, with a steady glow, through the falling rain drops.

"That looks like a stage," muttered Jack, "but we will know positively
in a moment more."

CHAPTER XII.
THE FIGHT IN THE CANYON.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Oh, Lor'! what's this?"

"Is that the Independence stage?"

"Yes. Don't shoot! I cave!"

"Ah! do not alarm yourselves; we are friends."

Jack turned on the search-light as he spoke and beheld four horses
pulling an old fashioned yellow stage coach, on each side of which
burned two lamps.

Upon the box sat an old jehu, Sandy Ellis by name, who had driven that
vehicle for quarter of a century over that route.

He was a gray-whiskered old fellow, with a bony face and a long red
nose, and his stage contained half a dozen people, who were excitedly
discussing the stoppage and the meaning of that brilliant electric
light.

"For the Lord's sake, boy, what's that you've got there--the sun?"

"Only an electric search-light," laughed Jack.

"But where's your team?"

"Don't need any for this electric stage."

"What's that--a sort of a trolley car?"

"Yes, without the overhead pole and wire."

"Thunderation! this beats everything! What do you want?"

"I wish to protect you from the James Boys."

"Say, now, is them varmints around?"

"Laying for this stage,"

"Wow!" gasped Sandy. "That's terrible, so it is!"

Jack gave all hands an account of what happened, and when he finished
the stage passengers were in a cold sweat.

They wanted to turn right back.

But Jack wouldn't allow this.

"I ain't sure whether they're ahead or behind us," said he. "At any rate
you can't turn back now."

"But they may kill us!" said a fat man in the stage.

"They're bound to rob as anyway," asserted a man with a valise filed
with genuine diamond jewelry samples.

"That depends entirely upon all hands present," said Jack. "Are all of
you armed?"

Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big
navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:

"You can just gamble on it I am."

"Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?"

"I'd rather not if I could avoid It," replied a thin fellow, with a
ha