The highwayman returned the fire, just as a mounted man came rapidly to his aid, and riddled the coach with bullets, though the plucky defender inside fired again, this time wounding the horse ridden by the outlaw coming to the aid of his chief.
The animal fell heavily, but the rider landed upon his feet and sprang to one side of the coach, while his chief threw the door open upon the other.
“It’s over with him, so we have nothing to fear now,” said the chief, as he saw the form of the defender of the coach lying in a heap, and his life ebbing rapidly away from the wounds he had received at the hands of the outlaws.
“Frank dead, one horse ditto, and another dying, so the old coach should pan out well, to repay us, Pat,” said the chief; and he added:
“Not to speak of my own wound, but which amounts to little.”
He drew the body of the brave passenger from the coach as he spoke, and with deft hands, as though long experienced in such work, went through his search for booty.
A well-filled purse, some jewelry, a watch and chain, and a wallet of papers, were what he found, and quickly the outlaw chief looked them over.
Then he stood for some time lost in a deep reverie, as though with little fear of danger to himself, until suddenly he broke out with the words:
“By Heaven, but I’ll risk it! Yes, if I hang for it, I will!”
“Do what, sir?” asked his companion.