ess shots--the first and last fired by the guards--were answered
by the muzzle of six rifles pointed into the windows, and the passengers
foolishly and impotently filed out into the road.

"Now, Bill," said a voice, which Jeff instantly recognized as the
blacksmith's, "we won't keep ye long. So hand down the treasure."

The man's foot was on the wheel; in another instant he would be beside
Jeff, and discovery was certain. Jeff leaned over and unhooked the coach
lamp, as if to assist him with its light. As if in turning, he STUMBLED,
broke the lamp, ignited the kerosene, and scattered the wick and blazing
fluid over the haunches of the wheelers! The maddened animals gave one
wild plunge forwards, the coach followed twice its length, throwing the
blacksmith under its wheels, and driving the other horses towards the
bank. But as the lamp broke in Jeff's right hand, his practiced left
hand discharged its hidden Derringer at the head of the robber who had
held the bit of Blue Grass, and, throwing the useless weapon away, he
laid the whip smartly on her back. She leaped forward madly, dragging
the other leaders with her, and in the next moment they were free and
wildly careering down the grade.

A dozen shots followed them. The men were protected by the coach, but
Yuba Bill groaned.

"Are you hit again?" asked Jeff hastily. He had forgotten his saviour.

"No; but the horses are! I felt 'em! Look at 'em, Jeff."

Jeff had gathered up the almost useless reins. The horses were running
away; but Blue Grass was limping.

"For God's sake," said Bill, desperately dragging his wounded figure
above the dash-board, "keep her up! LIFT HER UP, Jeff, till we pass the
curve. Don't let her drop, or we're--"

"Can you hold the reins?" said Jeff quickly.

"Give 'em here!"

Jeff passed them to the wounded man. Then, with his bowie-knife between
his teeth, he leaped over the dash-board on the backs of the wheelers.
He extinguished the blazing drops that the wind had not blown out of
their smarting haunches, and with the skill and instinct of a Mexican
vaquero, made his way over their turbulent tossing backs to Blue Grass,
cut her traces and reins, and as the vehicle neared the curve, with
a sharp lash, drove her to the bank, where she sank even as the coach
darted by. Bill uttered a feeble "Hurrah!" but at the same moment the
reins dropped from his fingers, and he sank at the bottom of the boot.

Riding postilion-wise, Jeff could con