"Say, we're liable to turn over down there. Better get the gal out, an' let her walk down. I can get safe up the other side."
"All right. Stop 'er."
The stage stopped, and the cessation of the swaying, swinging motion was a blessed relief to the tortured girl.
"Come on out," said the guide, as he threw the door open. "We'll have to ask you to walk to the bottom o' this coulee, if y'u don't want to be scrambled about on the bottom o' the coach."
Stella was glad to get out, but when her feet were on the ground she swayed and staggered like a drunken person from sheer sickness and weakness.
Beside her was her guide on his horse, and she was compelled to lean against it for a moment until she recovered herself.
The stage had gone lumbering and swaying down the bank of the coulee, and before it reached the bottom it turned on its side.
The driver leaped in safety to the ground, and the guide went scrambling down the bank to his assistance.
The mules were plunging and kicking, and threatened to break their harness to pieces.
Stella was mutely thankful that she had not been in the stage when it went over, as she sat down on a rock to rest and watch the efforts of the swearing and angry men to right the stage.