Davy joined the group admiring the coach. It evidently had been prepared especially for the occasion of the first trip through. It was a new “Concord,” built by the famous stage-coach manufacturers, the Abbot-Downing Company, of Concord, New Hampshire. The large round, deep body was enclosed at the sides by canvas curtains that could be rolled up; and behind, it was extended to form a large roomy triangular pocket, or “boot,” for mail and baggage. The driver’s seat, in front, was almost on the level with the roof; and beneath it was another pocket, or boot, for express and other valuables. A pair of big oil lamps sat upon brackets, at either end of the driver’s seat. The coach body was slung upon heavy straps forming the “throughbrace,” instead of resting upon springs; and here it securely cradled. It had been painted red and decorated with gilt. This coach had space for six passengers, three in a seat facing three others in an opposite seat. The coach was filled, when it had arrived, with the six passengers and a lot of mail; Wild Bill on the box, and beside him a wiry little man, who was Captain Cricket, the express messenger. Bob Scott and Wild Bill ate dinner together at the station. The fresh team of mules had been harnessed into the traces, and were being held by the heads. Bob looked at his watch, drew on his gloves, circuited the mules with an eye to their straps and buckles, laid his overcoat (a fine buffalo coat with high beaver collar) on his seat, and grasping lines and whip climbed up. Captain Cricket nimbly followed. “All ready, gentlemen,” announced Bob, his foot on the brake, poised to release it. The passengers came hurrying out and into the coach. Bob gave one glance over his shoulder. Then――“Let ’er go,” he bade the hostlers. “Whang!” his brake released; the hostlers leaped aside; out flew his lash, forward sprang the mules, and away went coach and all, in a flurry of dust, for the next run, to Horseshoe Creek, thirty-six miles. Run by run, up the Sweetwater River, over South Pass, down to the Sandy and the Green Rivers, through Fort Bridger and Echo Canyon, one hundred and more miles every day, would it speed, by relays of teams and of drivers, until the last team and last driver would bring it into Salt Lake. Wild Bill took a horse and returned to his east station, to drive in the next westbound stage. Every day a stage came through, and presently the stages from the west began coming back. The driver who brought in a stage from one direction took back the stage going in the opposite direction. The stages through to Salt Lake and to the Missouri brought considerable new life to Fort Laramie. Papers and letters from New York and San Francisco arrived so quickly after being mailed that it was easy to see what a great treat this service was to Salt Lake and Denver and every little settlement along the whole route.