en colonial Dick Turpin business, that one
can't help being ashamed of. They would have been delighted to have
recruited the three of us, as we ride, and our horses are worth best
part of ten thousand rupees. What a tent-pegger Rainbow would have made,
eh, old boy?' he said, patting the horse's neck. 'But Fate won't have
it, and it's no use whining.'

The coach was to pass half-an-hour after midnight. An awful long time
to wait, it seemed. We finished the bottle of brandy, I know. I thought
they never would come, when all of a sudden we saw the lamp.

Up the hill they came slow enough. About half-way up they stopped, and
most of the passengers got out and walked up after her. As they came
closer to us we could hear them laughing and talking and skylarking,
like a lot of boys. They didn't think who was listening. 'You won't be
so jolly in a minute or two,' I thinks to myself.

They were near the top when Starlight sings out, 'Stand! Bail up!' and
the three of us, all masked, showed ourselves. You never saw a man look
so scared as the passenger on the box-seat, a stout, jolly commercial,
who'd been giving the coachman Havana cigars, and yarning and nipping
with him at every house they passed. Bill Webster, the driver, pulls up
all standing when he sees what was in Starlight's hand, and holds the
reins so loose for a minute I thought they'd drop out of his hands. I
went up to the coach. There was no one inside--only an old woman and a
young one. They seemed struck all of a heap, and couldn't hardly speak
for fright.

The best of the joke was that the passengers started running up full
split to warm themselves, and came bump against the coach before they
found out what was up. One of them had just opened out for a bit of
blowing. 'Billy, old man,' he says, 'I'll report you to the Company if
you crawl along this way,' when he catches sight of me and Starlight,
standing still and silent, with our revolvers pointing his way. By
George! I could hardly help laughing. His jaw dropped, and he couldn't
get a word out. His throat seemed quite dry.

'Now, gentlemen,' says Starlight, quite cool and cheerful-like, 'you
understand her Majesty's mail is stuck up, to use a vulgar expression,
and there's no use resisting. I must ask you to stand in a row there by
the fence, and hand out all the loose cash, watches, or rings you may
have about you. Don't move; don't, I say, sir, or I must fire.' (This
was to a fidgety, nervous man who