"Why do you do it?"
"I have an idea that it will be safer."
"How so?"
"Well, if there were road-agents on the trail to hold me up to-morrow, I'll miss them, that is all."
"Right you are, pard; but I don't believe they is as dangerous as traveling this trail to-night."
"I'll let you know what I think upon my return," was Harding's answer, and he drove on once more.
Night had come on, and he well knew the dangers before him from a mistake in driving. He had been over the road perhaps half a dozen times, always riding upon the box, but upon his last run as driver he had most carefully noted every foot of the way.
The night was dark, but he knew that he had the instinct of his team to depend upon, and this was more than half the battle.
He was determined to push through and save his load of gold, and if he did make a successful run over that part of the trail by night, he would do what no other driver had done, and on this account his pride was at stake.
So he started boldly yet cautiously upon his way, and when the sun was just rising in W—— the stage-agent there was awakened by wheels dashing up to his door and heard the call: