"The coach is safe in W---- now, for if that fellow drove safely over the back trail he had no trouble beyond here." "Then we had better get a move on us." "Sure, for that agent suspects us, and there'll be a gang on our heels mighty quick," and hastening back to camp, the party mounted and rode rapidly on toward the mountains. CHAPTER XIX. A FAIR PASSENGER. Harding had ridden rapidly upon the trail back toward the night relay, for he felt sure that the agent was right in his conjecture that the party of wild fellows who had left W---- had intended to hold him up on the trail the next day when he came along. In fact, the slip of paper he had picked up at the Dead Line had been a warning to that effect, and hence he had dared take the drive at night, hoping thus to elude his foes, and had been successful. When he reached the trail where the party had turned off to camp, they soon came upon their halting-place, and as the ashes of their fire was cold, it proved that they had departed before having breakfast there. "Something frightened them off," said Harding. "But I wonder they did not hear my wheels, camping as they did this near to the stage-trail." "They kept no watch, doubtless; but will you follow them?" "Yes, to the relay-station at least." Arriving there, for their trail had been lost in the rocky soil, Harding found that the men had not passed, so they turned back for W----, arriving there by nightfall. The coaches that came in from the South and East the next morning brought valuable mail for Last Chance, and, to the surprise of all, a lady passenger. She was young and veiled, but enough was seen of her face to reveal its beauty. She was dressed in perfect keeping for one on a long journey, and carried only a small trunk with her. She told the station-agent that her name was Celeste Seldon, and that she had come West for a double purpose, searching for her father, and one other whom she was most anxious to find. The last she had heard of her father was in a letter dated from W----, and a secret communication, also mailed from W----, was the last tidings received from the second person she sought. "I wrote you, Mr. Agent," she said in her sweet way, "asking about a young man, Bernard Brandon by name, who had come West upon a special mission. You replied that he had been to W---- and gone on from here to Last Chance, a mining-camp, and though I have written there, no response came, so I decided to come myself and investigate. Have you heard anything more of Mr. Brandon?" The agent looked troubled and, seeing it, she said quickly: "You have heard of him, so I beg you to tell me all." "I regret to say, miss, that he was wounded on his way to Last Chance, shot by road-agents; but here is Harding, the driver of the Last Chance coach, and he can tell you all."