The Border Legion

"When does the next stage leave for Bannack?"

A man looked up sharply from the papers that littered a table before

him. "It leaves when we start it," he replied, curtly.

"Well, when will that be?"

"What's that to you?" he replied, with a question still more curt.

"I want to buy seats for two."

"That's different. Come in and let's look you over. ... Hello! it's

young Cleve. I didn't recognize you. Excuse me. We're a little

particular these days."

The man's face lighted. Evidently he knew Jim and thought well of

him. This reassured Joan and stilled the furious beating of her

heart. She saw Jim hand over a sack of gold, from which the agent

took the amount due for the passage. Then he returned the sack and

whispered something in Jim's ear. Jim rejoined her and led her away,

pressing her arm close to his side.

"It's all right," he whispered, excitedly. "Stage leaves just before

daylight. It used to leave in the middle of the fore-noon. But they

want a good start to-morrow."

"They think it might be held up?"

"He didn't say so. But there's every reason to suspect that. ...

Joan, I sure hope it won't. Me with all this gold. Why, I feel as if

I weighed a thousand pounds."

"What'll we do now?" she inquired.

Jim halted in the middle of the road. It was quite dark now. The

lights of the camp were flaring; men were passing to and fro; the

loose boards on the walks rattled to their tread; the saloons had

begun to hum; and there was a discordant blast from the Last Nugget.

"That's it--what'll we do?" he asked in perplexity.

Joan had no idea to advance, but with the lessening of her fear and

the gradual clearing of her mind she felt that she would not much

longer be witless.

"We've got to eat and get some rest," said Jim, sensibly.

"I'll try to eat--but I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight,"

replied Joan.

Jim took her to a place kept by a Mexican. It appeared to consist of

two tents, with opening in front and door between. The table was a

plank resting upon two barrels, and another plank, resting upon

kegs, served as a seat. There was a smoking lamp that flickered. The

Mexican's tableware was of a crudeness befitting his house, but it

was clean and he could cook--two facts that Joan appreciated after

her long experience of Bate Wood. She and Jim were the only

customers of the Mexican, who spoke English rather well and was

friendly. Evidently it pleased him to see the meal enjoyed. Both the

food and the friendliness had good effect upon Jim Cleve. He ceased

to listen all the time and to glance furtively out at every

footstep.