“We had proceeded some twenty miles, darkness was beginning to succeed twilight, when giving the wheel in charge of Dick, the deck-hand, I descended to ascertain if all was in readiness for the passengers in their allotted cabins.
“The ‘Silver Arrow’ was run on stringent bachelor principles, and no charming femme de chambre enlivened us by her silvery vocalisation, or by her clever manipulation administered to our comfort.
“After seeing all correct, I went into my own little cabin, and perceiving the mail-bags in the centre of the floor, where I had carelessly thrown them when the post-office messenger had brought them down, I proceeded to place them in a more secure location, when, as I raised the leathern sacks up, the bottom of one gave away, and out in a thick-spreading torrent rolled a mass of letters and packages.
“Dropping on my knees I raked them in, and then examining the bag found that the mischief was occasioned by the receptacle being charged beyond its capacity, the bottom bursting out from the severe pressure of more letters and packages than to my knowledge had ever at any one previous time constituted the Puntsville mail.
“There I was on my knees with an immense pile of mail matters heaped before me; and I was mentally deliberating what to do with the matter, when softly behind me creaked the door, and in a second a strong set of fingers grasped my throat, bending me back to the floor, and the cold, icy muzzle of a pistol pressed fearfully against my temple.
“He who held me thus I recognised as one of the three passengers—a slightly built, extremely muscular, quick-eyed sort of a man. Physically he was a far better man than I, and the position in which he seized me, rendered me perfectly helpless.
“‘Ho, ho! my old bird; robbing the mail, eh? Twenty years in the penitentiary!’ said he, in a low, clear whisper, with a peculiarly triumphant sparkle in his sharp eyes.
“I tried to speak, but his grasp on my throat prevented me; he pressed harder, and continued in the same cautious undertone:
“‘Lie still, my beauty, or out go your thievish cerebrals; however, I’ll let go your throat; but if for a fraction of a second you open your lips, I’ll let daylight into your aged anatomy, my venerable, but ungodly purloiner,’ and he indulged in a moderate laugh at his own quaint style of expression, as keeping his weapon in a straight line with my forehead, he crept toward the door and gently closed it; coming quickly back, he placed the muzzle against my forehead, saying, mockingly—
“‘You are a pretty one to be robbing the President’s mail at your time of life, you virtuous old sinner!’