Tom, of course, made no opposition to Mr. Burnett’s plans. It was not his place to do so. As long as he was in his employ, and accepted wages from him, he must conform to his arrangements.
In ten minutes the driver seized the reins, the stage bowled away, and Tom’s face was set westward.
He felt sorry to have lost the opportunity of saying good-by to the good-natured hunter, but his mind was soon full of pleasurable excitement as the stage rumbled on its way toward the Pacific.
CHAPTER XXV.
A SOLITARY WALK.
IT WAS a long and tedious ride. The roads were not of the best—indeed they were not far from the worst—and more than once the stage had a narrow escape from tipping over.
Tom did not complain, however. He liked the excitement of the ride, and did not mind the violent jolting, though it made his limbs ache and his bones sore.
Percy Burnett grumbled enough for Tom and himself, too.
“I wouldn’t have taken this infernal stage,” he said, at a halting-place, “if I had known it would shake me to pieces.”
“It is better than walking,” said one of the passengers, philosophically.