Evidently the driver felt the force of the example, for he kept a close eye on the stranger. Besides this, he thought the occasion warranted a little extra urging of the horses, and he put them to the briskest trot they had shown since leaving Belmar.
Ethan Durrell, as may be supposed, was fully as anxious as the driver, for he was almost certain the man in front was a friend of the prisoner, and if so, there was little to prevent a rescue, since, as I have shown, neither Durrell nor Lenman was armed.
The relief, therefore, was great when the lights of the little town glimmered through the darkness, and shortly after the stage came to a halt in front of the old-fashioned inn, where it had stopped regularly for so many years.
The passenger last picked up, there was reason to believe, had never seen the rogue before. The latter may be dismissed with the remark that, having been caught in the commission of his crime, he received full and merited punishment therefor.
CHAPTER XIII—ADRIFT IN THE SWAMP
Meanwhile Tom Wagstaff and Jim McGovern, the two youths from New York, found themselves involved in a series of singular and stirring incidents.
It will be admitted that they were not fond of meeting the kind of persons who brought the old stage to a standstill in the dismal depths of Black Bear Swamp, and, when they saw an opportunity to leave, lost no time in doing so.
They were trembling in their seats, wondering what would be the next act of the dreaded fellow dimly seen in the gloom, when Ethan Durrell performed his brave exploit which ended in the capture of the rogue.
“Now’s our chance!” whispered Jim, who saw the couple struggling on the ground; “bimeby he’ll kill that greenhorn and next the driver and then our turn will come.”
“If that’s so, I don’t see any use in waiting,” replied Tom, losing no time in scrambling out of the coach, and dropping to the ground in such haste that he fell forward on his hands and knees.