villainy is practiced."

"All outlaws have a series of habits exactly like, as far as my
experience has taught me," said the sheriff.

"When I wuz in ther navy," began Tim, "I once---"

Biff! came Fritz's fingers down on the back of his neck.

What he was going to say was choked off.

Then Fritz rushed him into the next room.

There he jammed the sailor and banged the door shut.

"Dot seddles him!" he chuckled.

As the door was locked they were spared the affliction of hearing
another of Tim's awful yarns for the time being.

The Terror scoured the surrounding country for a week after that, but
nothing was seen of the bandits.

It was then decided to run to Independence and try to get some
information from the authorities there by means of which they could
locate the gang.

According to this programme, the sheriff gave Tim the direction, and the
old sailor steered the stage on her way.

It was then very late in the afternoon.

They followed a country road, and passing several wayfarers, the
appearance of the Terror caused them the most intense astonishment.

A few miles along the road they caught sight of an old fellow in a wagon
loaded with grain.

He looked like a farmer.

There was no horse hitched to the vehicle.

But the shafts were broken and to the stumps there yet clung the remains
of a broken harness.

The old fellow was the picture of despair.

He sat on top of his load, a whip in his hand and a big, red bandana
handkerchief in the other with which he was vigorously mopping his
forehead.

Fritz was steering the Terror.

Observing the forlorn countryman he burst out laughing.

"Shiminey Christmas!" said he, "dot fellow vas look like as if he vas
got left behint mit his horse!"

"What are you talking about?" Jack asked from inside.

"Dot wagon in der roat."

"Where?"

"Ahet."

Jack emerged.

He saw the wagon.

And he also noticed an old log house.

He stood embowered among some trees, rocks, and bushes some distance
ahead on the left hand side of the road.

In a moment more the Terror reached the wagon, and halting beside it,
the countryman glaring at it with a look of the most intense
astonishment upon his face.

"For the lands sakes alive!" he gasped, "what's that thing?"

"A stage that runs by electric power," Jack replied.

"And what's the trouble with you, sir?"

"I've been having an awful time with Eliza."

"Eliza? Who is she?"

"My mule."

"Oh! It loo