With these words Barber Sam climbed up and sat upon the box with Bill Merridew. A moment later the stage was on its course along the main road. "Look a' here, Bill Merridew," says Barber Sam, fiercely, "there 's a lord inside and you outside, to-day--a mighty suspicious coincidence! No, you need n't let on you don't tumble to my meenin'! I 've had my eye on Steve Barclay an' you, and I 'm ready for a showdown. I 'm travelin' for my health to-day, and so are you, Bill Merridew! I 'm fixed from the ground up an' you know there ain't a man in the Red Hoss Mountain country that is handier with a gun than me. Now I mean bizness; if there is any onpleasantness to-day and if you try to come any funny bizness, why, d---- me, Bill Merridew, if I don't blow your head off!" Pleasant words these for Bill to listen to. But Bill knew Barber Sam and he had presence of mind enough to couch his expostulatory reply in the most obsequious terms. He protested against Barber Sam's harsh imputations. "I 've had my say," was Barber Sam's answer. "I ain't goin' to rub it in. You understand that I mean bizness this trip; so don't forget it. Now let's talk about the weather." Mary Lackington had hoped that, as they passed The Bower, she would catch a glimpse of Miss Woppit--perhaps have sufficient opportunity to call out a hasty farewell to her. But Miss Woppit was nowhere to be seen. The little door of the cabin was open, so presumably the mistress was not far away. Mary was disappointed, vexed; she threw herself back and resigned herself to indignant reflections. The stage had proceeded perhaps four miles on its way when its progress was arrested by the sudden appearance of a man, whose habit and gestures threatened evil. This stranger was of short and chunky build and he was clad in stout, dark garments that fitted him snugly. A slouch hat was pulled down over his head and a half-mask of brown muslin concealed the features of his face. He held out two murderous pistols and in a sharp voice cried "Halt!" Instantaneously Barber Sam recognized in this bold figure the mysterious outlaw who for so many months had been the terror of the district, and instinctively he reached for his pistol-pocket. "Throw up your hands!" commanded the outlaw. He had the drop on them. Recalling poor Jake Dodsley's fate Barber Sam discreetly did as he was bidden. As for Bill Merridew, he was shaking like a wine-jelly. The horses had come to a stand, and the passengers in the coach were wondering why a stop had been made so soon. Wholly unaware of what had happened, Mary Lackington thrust her head from the door window of the coach and looked forward up the road, in the direction of the threatening outlaw. She comprehended the situation at once and with a scream fell back into her father's arms.