Every one but a woman in the stage assented, and Sandy pulled out a big navy revolver from his boot leg, and remarked:
"You can just gamble on it I am."
"Any of you afraid to fight, if it became necessary?"
"I'd rather not if I could avoid It," replied a thin fellow, with a hacking cough. "Fighting isn't my fort."
"Waal, I guess you'll pull a trigger if you saw a gang of masked bandits trying to bore a hole in your head."
"I fancy I would."
"That's settled then. Now you see my stage?"
"Yes, and a queer one she is!" commented Sandy.
"She is bullet proof. I propose that as she is safer than your ramshackle old wooden affair, all hands get inside of her, and let me carry you through."
"But what about my horses?" asked Sandy.