“Gettin' her a seat by the WINDOW?” repeated Bill.
“Yes, she wanted to see everything, and wasn't afraid of the shooting.”
“Yes,” broke in a third passenger, “and he was so d——d civil that when she dropped her ring in the straw, he struck a match agin all your rules, you know, and held it for her to find it. And it was just as we were crossin' through the brush, too. I saw the hull thing through the window, for I was hanging over the wheels with my gun ready for action. And it wasn't no fault of Judge Thompson's if his d——d foolishness hadn't shown us up, and got us a shot from the gang.”
Bill gave a short grunt, but drove steadily on without further comment or even turning his eyes to the speaker.
We were now not more than a mile from the station at the crossroads where we were to change horses. The lights already glimmered in the distance, and there was a faint suggestion of the coming dawn on the summits of the ridge to the west. We had plunged into a belt of timber, when suddenly a horseman emerged at a sharp canter from a trail that seemed to be parallel with our own. We were all slightly startled; Yuba Bill alone preserving his moody calm.
“Hullo!” he said.
The stranger wheeled to our side as Bill slackened his speed. He seemed to be a “packer” or freight muleteer.
“Ye didn't get 'held up' on the Divide?” continued Bill cheerfully.
“No,” returned the packer, with a laugh; “I don't carry treasure. But I see you're all right, too. I saw you crossin' over Galloper's.”
“SAW us?” said Bill sharply. “We had our lights out.”