“Sh!” interrupted the driver, “there’s somebody ahead of us in the road; the horses see him; be ready and remember that if you miss it’s sure death—”
At that moment the most startling cry that could fall upon their ears rang from the gloom in front:
“Hands up, every one of you!”
CHAPTER XI—NO JOKE
What more alarming summons can be imagined than that which rang from the darkness in front of the stage, as it was slowly winding its way through Black Bear Swamp?
The lightning which had toyed with them before seemed unwilling to do so again, for the impenetrable night was not lit up by the first quiver or flutter of the intense fire.
“Are you ready to shoot?” asked the driver, turning his head and speaking in guarded tones.
“My gracious, no!” replied Wagstaff, as well as he could between his chattering teeth; “I can’t see him.”
“He’s right there in the middle of the road; don’t hit one of the horses—what are you trying to do?”
It was plain enough what the valiant youth was doing; he was crawling under the seat, the difficulty of doing so being increased by the body of Jim, who was ahead of him in seeking the refuge.