ay with a cheer from his admirers.

CHAPTER XIII.

A VOLUNTEER.

Doctor Dick had an uneventful run to W----, and arrived without accident
or delay on time at the end of his journey. He was well received, but
the stage-agent told him that not a volunteer had put in an appearance
for the place of driver. Double the price had been offered, but there
were no takers, and the agent added:

"You must find some daredevil at Last Chance who is willing to risk his
life upon the box, while rest assured, Doctor Dick, I have reported your
noble service for the company in its need and it will be appreciated."

"I do not care for pay, or thanks, only I wish to be relieved of a duty
I do not like, especially as it interferes with my own work," was the
answer.

Just before the time came for the starting of the coach a horseman rode
up and dismounted at the stage office. He was an odd-looking individual,
tall, but with a hump on his back, awkward in gait, and dressed in
buckskin leggings and hunting-shirt.

His hair was long, very long, bushy, and would have been white but for
its soiled appearance, and he had it cropped, or banged in front like an
Indian, or fashionable young miss, to keep it out of his eyes.

His face was clean-shaven, but the hue of leather, and he wore a pair of
iron-rimmed spectacles.

His slouch-hat was worn in reality, for the rim fell down upon his
shoulders, save in front where the flap was turned up and fastened with
an army-button.

He was armed with a pair of old, but serviceable revolvers, an
ugly-looking bowie-knife with a deer-horn handle, and a combined rifle
and shotgun, double-barreled.

His horse was as queer as his master in appearance, being a large,
raw-boned animal, with patches of hair upon him, a long tangled mane and
tail, and he was unshod, though his hoofs looked as tough as iron.

The saddle was also a back number, and the stake-rope served for a
bridle as well. A lariat hung at the saddle-horn, also a hatchet, and in
a large rubber blanket was rolled his bedding, while a bag contained a
coffee-pot, frying-pan, tin cup, plate, and some provisions.

He looked the crowd over as he drew rein, and asked quietly:

"Who's boss o' this layout?"

"I am," and the stage-agent stepped forward.

"I hears thet yer wants a man ter drive yer old hearse on ther trail ter
Last Chance and back."

"I do."

"I'm yer huckleberry."

"You?"

"Yas, me."

"Are you a driver?"

"E