"You have heard of him, so I beg you to tell me all."
"I regret to say, miss, that he was wounded on his way to Last Chance, shot by road-agents; but here is Harding, the driver of the Last Chance coach, and he can tell you all."
Harding did not appear to like having to give pain to the young girl, but he frankly told her of the wound of the young man, who could be no other than Bernard Brandon, and the pitiful result.
"I will go to him. When do you start, sir?"
"This afternoon, miss; but the trail is a very dangerous one, and I had better bring him back with me."
"No, I will go with you and I will speak for the box-seat, if it is not engaged."
"Oh, no; no seats are engaged, for all dread the trail between here and Last Chance."
"I do not, so I ride with you, sir, on the box-seat," was the determined reply of the young girl.
She paid her fare, and when the coach started, after having dinner at the agent's, mounted to the box with Harding's aid, and took her seat by the young driver, while the crowd yelled lustily as they drove off to face the dangers of the trail.
Harding drove off with the air of one who felt his full responsibility in having the care of a young and beautiful girl, who dared risk the dangerous road he had to travel.