s well. Telegraph office there."

Mr. Rice was not in any haste this morning, being, as he said, ahead of
time. He invited Mrs. Page to take her usual place on the box, telling
her the gentleman had concluded to go inside; and brought her a glass of
water from the bar. While he was returning the glass, the passengers,
including him of the outside, being busied assuaging their thirst with
something stronger than water, a rattle of wheels and a clatter of hoofs
was heard, and, lo! Mrs. Dolly Page was discovered to be practicing her
favorite accomplishment of driving six-in-hand!

When the "outside" recovered from his momentary surprise, he clapped his
hand on the shoulder of Mr. Rice, and said, in a voice savage with spite
and disappointment:

"I arrest you, sir."

"Arrest and be d----d!" returned Sam. "If you had done your duty, you'd
have arrested _her_ while you had the chance."

"That's so--your head is level; and if you'll assist me in getting on to
Piney-woods station in time to catch the run-away--for she can't very
well drive beyond that station--I'll let you off."

"You'll wait till I'm on, I reckon. My horses can't go on that errand,
and you darsn't take the up-driver's team. Put that it your pipe and
smoke it, old smarty!"--and Sam's eyes emitted steel-blue lightnings,
though his face wore a fixed expression of smiling.

Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that horses might be procured a mile
back from the station; and, while the baffled officer, and such of the
passengers as could not wait until next day, went in pursuit of them,
Sam mounted one of the "cayuses," and made what haste he could after the
coach and Wells, Fargo & Company's express-box. Within a mile or less of
Piney-woods Station, he met the keeper, the grooms, and an odd man or
two, that chanced to have been about the place, all armed to the teeth,
who, when they saw him, halted in surprise.

"Why, we reckoned you was dead," said the head man, with an air of
disappointment.

"Dead?" repeated Sam. "Have you seen my coach?"

"That's all right, down to the station; and the plucky gal that druv it
told us all about the raid the 'road-agents' made on you. Whar's the
passengers? any of 'em killed?"

"Passengers are all right. Where is Mrs. Page?"

"She cried, an' tuk on awful about ye; an' borrered a hoss to ride right
on down the road to meet the other stage, an' let 'em know what's up."

"She did, did she?" said Sam, very thoughtfully. "W