“I am disgusted with this fooling,” he said, “You're all a pack of cowards.” “Driver,” said George Melville, “has this stage ever been robbed?” “Several times,” the driver admitted. “When was the last time?” “Two months since.” “Where did it happen?” “About a mile further on.” “Did you ever see this gentleman before?” he asked, pointing to the colonel. “Yes,” answered the driver, reluctantly. “When did he last ride with you?” “On the day the stage was robbed,” answered the driver. The passengers exchanged glances, and then, as by a common impulse, all turned to Col. Warner, to see how he would take this damaging revelation. Disguise it as he might, he was clearly disconcerted. “Is this true, colonel?” asked Benson. “Yes, it is,” answered Col. Warner, with some hesitation. “I was robbed, with the rest. I had four hundred dollars in my wallet, and the road agent made off with it.” “And yet you just now pooh-poohed the idea of a robbery, and said such things were gone by.” “I say so now,” returned the colonel, sullenly. “I have a good deal of money with me, but I am willing to take my chances.” “Doubtless. Your money would be returned to you, in all probability, if, as we have reason to believe, you have a secret understanding with the thieves who infest this part of the country.” “Your words are insulting. Let go my arm, sir, or it will be the worse for you.” “Softly, softly, my good friend,” said the German. “Have you any proposal to make, Mr. Melville?” “Only this. Let us proceed on our journey, but let each man draw his revolver, and be ready to use it, if need be.” “What about the colonel?” “He must go along with us. We cannot have him communicating with our enemies outside.” “Suppose I refuse, sir?” “Then, my very good friend, I think we shall use a little force,” said the German, carelessly pointing his weapon at the captive. “I will go upon compulsion,” said the colonel, “but I protest against this outrage. I am a wealthy capitalist from Chicago, who knows no more about road agents than you do. You have been deceived by this unsophisticated young man, who knows about as much of the world as a four-year-old child. It's a fine mare's nest he has found.” This sneer did not disturb the equanimity of George Melville. “I should be glad to believe the colonel were as innocent as he claims,” he said, “but his own words, overheard last night, contradict what he is now saying. When we have passed the spot indicated for the attack, we will release him, and give him the opportunity he seeks of leaving our company.” The passengers resumed their places in the stage, with the exception of Herbert, who again took his seat beside the driver. George Melville had not mentioned that it was Herbert, not himself, who had overheard the conversation between the colonel and the land lord, fearing to expose the boy to future risk.