Strong as she was, Mrs. Welch, when the train whirled away and no one came to her, felt a sense of her isolation strike her to the heart. A two-horse carriage, the only one in sight, stood near a fence at some little distance, and for a short while she thought it might have come for her, and she waited for some moments; but presently a tall colored man and a colored woman got into it. The man was glittering with a shining silk-hat and a long broad-cloth coat; and the woman was in a brand-new silk, and wore a vivid bonnet. Even then, it occurred to Mrs. Welch that, perhaps, the man was the coachman, and, for a moment, she was buoyed by hope, but she was doomed to disappointment. The man was talking loudly, and apparently talked to be heard by all around him. Mrs. Welch could hear something of what he said. “We’re all right. We’ve got ’em down, and we mean to keep ’em down, too, by ——!” A shout followed this. “Yes, the bottom rail is on top, and we mean to keep it so till the fence rots down, by ——!” Another burst of laughter. “You jest stick to me and Leech, and we’ll bring you to the promised land. Yas, we’re in the saddle, and we mean to stay there. We’ve got the Gov’ment behind us, and we’ll put a gun in every colored man’s hand and give him, not a mule, but a horse to ride, and we’ll dress his wife in silk and give her a carriage to ride in, same’s my wife’s got.” “Ummh! heah dat! Yes, Lord! Dat’s what I want,” cried an old woman, jumping up and down in her ecstasy, to the amusement of the others. “A _mule’s_ good ’nough for me—I b’lieve I ruther have mule ’n hoss, I’se fotched up wid mules,” called out someone, which raised a great laugh, and some discussion. “Well, all right; you shall have your ruther. Everyone shall take his pick. We’ll do the ridin’ now.” Mrs. Welch was listening with keen interest. The speaker, who was Nicholas Ash, the member from Red Rock, gathered up the reins. As he did so, someone called: “You better watch out for de K. K.’s,” at which there was a roar of laughter. “They’s the one’s I’m lookin’ for. I’m just fixed for ’em, by ——!” shouted the statesman. “Dee ain’ gwine meddle wid him,” said someone in the crowd, admiringly. “Don’ know. I wouldn’ drive roun’ heah and talk ’bout ’um like he does, not for dat mule he gwine gi’ me.” The laughter that greeted this showed that others besides the speaker held the same views. As the carriage drove off, Mrs. Welch’s heart sank. Her last hope was gone. She was relieved somewhat by the approach of the station-agent, who up to that time had been engaged about his duties, and who now, seeing a lady standing outside, came up to her. Mrs. Welch told who she was. He had heard that Mrs. Welch was expected, but did not know the day. No telegrams, such as she spoke of, had passed through his office, and it was an all-day’s ride up to Red Rock when the roads were bad. He invited her to remain as his guest. “People right often did so when they came, unexpected-like.”