"Undoubtedly," agreed Mr. Appel, getting up out of the aisle. "They are a disgrace!"
"We are going away from the mountains—I don't understand——"
Mr. Stott smiled reassuringly at Mrs. Budlong and told her that Wallie and Pinkey, of course, knew the road.
"I don't care," she insisted, stoutly, "I believe something's wrong. We are going awfully fast, and if I thought it was as rough as this all the way I should prefer to walk."
"You must remember that you are now in the West, Mrs. Budlong," Mr. Stott replied in a kind but reproving tone, "and we cannot expect——"
Mrs. Budlong, who had just bitten her tongue, retorted sharply:
"We certainly could expect a more comfortable conveyance than this. If I live to get out I shall never step foot in it again."
"When we stop at the post-office," said Mr. Budlong in a tone of decision as he clung to the window frame, "I shall hire a machine and go out—the rest of you can do as you like."
If there was dissatisfaction inside the coach it was nothing at all compared to the excitement on the box as the horses galloped down the railroad track. The leaders' mouths might have been bound in cast-iron for all the attention they paid to the pull on their bits, although Pinkey and Wallie were using their combined strength in their efforts to stop the runaways.
"Them dudes must be gittin' an awful churnin'," said Pinkey through his clenched teeth.