“You just give me that treasure-box, and you won’t be hurt,” he replied, in an obstinate tone, with his gun still in position.
The other robber, seemingly much amused at the fear I manifested for my safety, in a jocular manner shouted to me, in a voice peculiarly feminine,
“Does them gun-barrels look pretty big?”
I replied that I could not readily recall a time in my life when gun-barrels looked quite as large as they did at that moment, and that although neither the moon nor stars were very bright, yet I was quite sure I could read the advertisements on a page of The New York Herald which they had used for gun wadding.
This answer excited their mirth, and they laughed quite heartily, but it did not divert them from their purpose. After parleying with them a few minutes longer, I handed the big man the way-pocket containing the way-bill, and told him that the entire contents of the coach were entered on it, and he could satisfy himself that there was no treasure-box on board. They made the examination and were convinced.
During this research they watched our movements closely, lest Charley or I should draw a weapon. Neither of us was armed. Returning the way-bill to the leather pocket, the big man in a surly tone inquired,
“Got any passengers aboard?”
“There is a man inside, but he is not a passenger,” I replied.
“Who is he then, and what is he doing there, if he is not a passenger?”
“He is the company’s blacksmith.”