"I would jump out and confront the scoundrel," said a determined-looking man, "but there is no room. We are on the verge of a precipice."
"What will happen?" exclaimed the cadaverous-looking man in an agony of terror.
"I suppose we shall be robbed. That will be better than tumbling over the precipice."
"Oh, why did I ever leave home?"
"I don't know. Ask me something easier," said the resolute man, in disgust. "Such a man as you ought never to stir from his own fireside."
"Stop the coach and pass over your watches and pocketbooks!" cried Dick Hawley, in a commanding tone.
By way of exciting alarm and enforcing his order he fired one charge of his revolver. The consequences he did not anticipate.
The terrified stage horses, alarmed by the report, got beyond control of the driver and dashed forward impetuously. The highwayman had hardly time to realize his danger when his horse was overthrown and pushed over the precipice along with its rider, while the stage dashed on. The last that the passengers saw of Dick Hawley was a panic-stricken face looking upward as he fell rapidly down toward the rocks at the bottom.
"He's gone! We are saved!" exclaimed the cadaverous-looking man, joyfully.
"That is, if the coach doesn't tumble after him."