She turned to the coach, and Doctor Dick aided her into it, just as the two outlaws came up with the small leather trunk she had brought with her and her saddle and bridle.
Taking the back seat, Celeste leaned up in one corner, as though fatigued, and her baggage having been put on top, Dick and Harding mounted to the box, the outlaws attentively regarding them through the eye-holes in their masks.
"Remember, pards, I still drive this trail," said the driver, with an air of defiance as he gathered up the reins.
"I won't forget, Harding; but I advise you to keep in mind the story of the pitcher that went once too often to the well, for right here some day you may meet your fate."
"If I do, you will not find me flinch from it," was the plucky response, and the driver called to his horses, and the team moved on.
Looking back at the bend, the driver and Doctor Dick saw that the outlaws had already disappeared, while Celeste Seldon, gazing back also, noted the same fact, and murmured to herself:
"What yet is before me, I wonder?"