The Border Legion

"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.