extinguished the kerosene lamp, and braved
the outer air, and strong currents of the hall and stairway in the
darkness. Lighting two candles in the bar-room, he proceeded to unlock
the hall door. At the same instant a furious blast shook the house,
the door yielded slightly and impelled a thin, meek-looking stranger
violently against Jeff, who still struggled with it.

"An accident has occurred," began the stranger, "and"--but here the wind
charged again, blew open the door, pinned Jeff behind it back against
the wall, overturned the dripping stranger, dashed up the staircase, and
slammed every door in the house, ending triumphantly with No. 14, and a
crash of glass in the window.

"'Come, rouse up!" said Jeff, still struggling with the door, "rouse up
and lend a hand yer!"

Thus abjured, the stranger crept along the wall towards Jeff and began
again, "We have met with an accident." But here another and mightier
gust left him speechless, covered him with spray of a wildly
disorganized water-spout that, dangling from the roof, seemed to be
playing on the front door, drove him into black obscurity and again
sandwiched his host between the door and the wall. Then there was a
lull, and in the midst of it Yuba Bill, driver of the "Pioneer" coach,
quietly and coolly, impervious in waterproof, walked into the hall,
entered the bar-room, took a candle, and, going behind the bar, selected
a bottle, critically examined it, and, returning, poured out a quantity
of whiskey in a glass and gulped it in a single draught.

All this while Jeff was closing the door, and the meek-looking man was
coming into the light again.

Yuba Bill squared his elbows behind him and rested them on the bar,
crossed his legs easily and awaited them. In reply to Jeff's inquiring
but respectful look, he said shortly--

"Oh, you're thar, are ye?"

"Yes, Bill."

"Well, this yer new-fangled road o' yours is ten feet deep in the hollow
with back water from the North Fork! I've taken that yar coach inter
fower feet of it, and then I reckoned I couldn't hev any more. 'I'll
stand on this yer hand,' sez I; I brought the horses up yer and landed
'em in your barn to eat their blessed heads off till the water goes
down. That's wot's the matter, old man, and jist about wot I kalkilated
on from those durned old improvements o' yours."

Coloring a little at this new count in the general indictment against
the uselessness of the "Half-way House," Jeff asked if