"Nothin', yer honor. Only a stageful uv passengers, this trip."
"Bah! you are getting poor. Get down from off the box, there!"
The driver trembled, and hesitated.
"Get down!" again commanded the road-agent, leveling his revolver, "before I drop you."
In terror McGucken made haste to scramble to the ground, where he stood with his teeth chattering and knees knocking together in a manner pitiable to see. "Ha, ha, ha!" That wild laugh of Deadwood Dick's made the welkin ring out a weird chorus. "Bill McGucken, you should join the regular army, you are so brave. Ha, ha, ha!"
And the laugh was taken up by the road-knights, concealed in the thicket, and swelled into a wild, boisterous shout.
Poor McGucken trembled in his boots in abject terror, while those inside the coach were pretty well scared.
"Driver!" said the Prince of the Road, coolly, after the laugh, "go you to the passengers who grace this rickety shebang and take up a collection. You needn't cum to me wi' less'n five hundred ef ye don't want me to salt ye!"
Bowing humble obeisance, McGucken took off his hat, and made for the stage door.
"Gentlemen!" he plead, "there is need o' yer dutchin' out yer dudads right liberal ef ye've enny purtic'lar anticypation an' desire ter git ter Deadwood ter-night. Dick, the Road-Agent, are law an' gospel heerabouts, I spec'late!"