"Four year ago next June, a hoss slipped, took over his mate, an' as neat a trap as you ever laid yer eyes on was busted into a thousand pieces."
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Tom, breathlessly, "wasn't that awful! Driver go over, too?"
"Jest managed to jump an' save hisself."
"Are your horses liable to stumble?" Tom's voice was slightly tremulous, and he glanced sharply at the four dapple grays.
"All hosses is," was the unsatisfactory reply, "but I cant be a-talkin' here all day—give us a hand, Jed—no, we don't want no help." He waved aside the boys, seized hold of a box, and, within a few minutes, assisted by the station-master, had stowed away the baggage upon the top of the vehicle.
"Lucky we ain't got no other passengers to-day," he grumbled, as he passed an enormous red handkerchief across his perspiring forehead. "Fetch out the mail-bag, Jed, an' we'll git. Somebody can ride up with me, if he wants to."
"I will," said Bob Somers, quickly.
In a jiffy, he had climbed up to the seat.
"Awful selfish, I know, fellows," he said, smilingly, "and——"
But his further speech was cut short by "Big Bill," who dropped heavily beside him and picked up the lines.