"We're going the way we came," whispered Jim in her ear.
This was surprising, for Joan had been sure that Bannack lay in the
opposite direction. Certainly this fact was not reassuring to her.
Perhaps the road turned soon.
Meanwhile the light brightened, the day broke, and the sun reddened
the valley. Then it was as light inside the coach as outside. Joan
might have spared herself concern as to her fellow-passengers. The
only one who noticed her was the young man, and he, after a stare
and a half-smile, lapsed into abstraction. He looked troubled, and
there was about him no evidence of prosperity. Jim held her hand
under a fold of the long coat, and occasionally he spoke of
something or other outside that caught his eye. And the stage rolled
on rapidly, seemingly in pursuit of the steady roar of hoofs.
Joan imagined she recognized the brushy ravine out of which Jesse
Smith had led that day when Kells's party came upon the new road.
She believed Jim thought so, too, for he gripped her hand unusually
hard. Beyond that point Joan began to breathe more easily. There
seemed no valid reason now why every mile should not separate them
farther from the bandits, and she experienced relief.
Then the time did not drag so. She wanted to talk to Jim, yet did
not, because of the other passengers. Jim himself appeared
influenced by their absorption in themselves. Besides, the keen,
ceaseless vigilance of the guard was not without its quieting
effect. Danger lurked ahead in the bends of that road. Joan
remembered hearing Kells say that the Bannack stage had never been
properly held up by road-agents, but that when he got ready for the
job it would be done right. Riding grew to be monotonous and
tiresome. With the warmth of the sun came the dust and flies, and
all these bothered Joan. She did not have her usual calmness, and as
the miles steadily passed her nervousness increased.
The road left the valley and climbed between foot-hills and wound
into rockier country. Every dark gulch brought to Joan a trembling,
breathless spell. What places for ambush! But the stage bowled on.
At last her apprehensions wore out and she permitted herself the
luxury of relaxing, of leaning back and closing her eyes. She was
tired, drowsy, hot. There did not seem to be a breath of air.
Suddenly Joan's ears burst to an infernal crash of guns. She felt
the whip and sting of splinters sent flying by bullets. Harsh yells
followed, then the scream of a horse in agony, the stage lurching
and slipping to a halt, and thunder of heavy guns overhead.