“It's a lie!” he roared; “or somebody has been putting up a job on ye, Jeff! Because I've been twenty years in the service, and am such a nat'ral born mule that when the company strokes my back and sez, 'You're the on'y mule we kin trust, Bill,' I starts up and goes out as a blasted wooden figgerhead for road agents to lay fur and practice on, it don't follow that YOU'VE any call to go.” “It was my own seeking, Bill,” said Jeff, with one of his old, sweet, boyish smiles. “I didn't know YOU were to drive. But you're not going back on me now, Bill, are you? you're not going to send me off with another volunteer?” “That be d----d!” growled Bill. Nevertheless, for ten minutes he reviled the Pioneer Coach Company with picturesque imprecation, tendered his resignation repeatedly to the agent, and at the end of that time, as everybody expected, mounted the box, and with a final malediction, involving the whole settlement, was off. On the road, Jeff, in a few hurried sentences, told his story. Bill scarcely seemed to listen. “Look yar, Jeff,” he said suddenly. “Yes, Bill.” “If the worst happens, and ye go under, you'll tell your father, IF I DON'T HAPPEN TO SEE HIM FIRST, it wasn't no job of mine, and I did my best to get ye out of it.” “Yes,” said Jeff, in a faint voice. “It mayn't be so bad,” said Bill, softening; “they KNOW, d--n 'em, we've got a pile aboard, ez well as if they seed that agent gin it ye, but they also know we've pre-pared!” “I wasn't thinking of that, Bill; I was thinking of my father.” And he told Bill of the gambling episode at Sacramento. “D'ye mean to say ye left them hounds with a thousand dollars of yer hard-earned--” “Gambling gains, Bill,” interrupted Jeff quietly. “Exactly! Well!” Bill subsided into an incoherent growl. After a few moments' pause, he began again. “Yer ready as ye used to be with a six-shooter, Jeff, time's when ye was a boy, and I uster chuck half-dollars in the air fur ye to make warts on?” “I reckon,” said Jeff, with a faint smile. “Thar's two p'ints on the road to be looked to: the woods beyond the blacksmith's shop that uster be; the fringe of alder and buckeye by the crossing below your house--p'ints where they kin fetch you without a show. Thar's two ways o' meetin' them thar. One way ez to pull up and trust to luck and brag. The other way is to whip up and yell, and send the whole six kiting by like h-ll!” “Yes,” said Jeff. “The only drawback to that plan is this: the road lies along the edge of a precipice, straight down a thousand feet into the river. Ef these devils get a shot into any one o' the six and it DROPS, the coach turns sharp off, and down we go, the whole kerboodle of us, plump into the Stanislaus!” “AND THEY DON'T GET THE MONEY,” said Jeff quietly. “Well, no!” replied Yuba Bill, staring at Jeff, whose face was set as a flint against the darkness. “I should reckon not.” He then drew a long breath, glanced at Jeff again, and said between his teeth, “Well, I'm d----d!”