The correspondingly moderate movements which the driver of the coach was compelled to adopt, did not very well suit his views, as the icy road and his heavy load formed a combination of circumstances which rendered him anxious to make all possible speed, in order to fulfil the requirements of the U. S. Mail, as well as those of his passengers. But he was obliged to retain his humble position of follower to the wagon, for the road at that point was too narrow to admit of passing, and as no other means of attaining his object were at his command, he proceeded to try the effect of moral suasion. "I say, you, there," shouted he to the obstinate couple in the wagon, who were smoking very much at their ease, and apparently busily engaged in conversation, "I wish you'd drive on faster, or let me go by you." "Couldn't do it," replied the provoking Stark, "unless you'll race." "It's none of my business to race," returned the driver; "all I want is to go on." "Well, let's see you do it, then," said Stark, checking his horse still more. They soon came to a wider portion of the road, and the stage driver attempted to pass the wagon, but was foiled by the dexterous manoeuvring of Stark, who so accurately adjusted his motions to those of the stage-coach as to check-mate its presiding genius. Upon coming to a still wider place, the driver outsailed his persevering tormentor, and pushed on at a rapid rate, say seven knots an hour, indulging the sanguine hope that he was rid of his Old Man of the Sea. But this expectation was short-lived, for, on arriving at a curve in the road, where it was narrow and icy, he was compelled to "shorten sail," whereat Stark added wings to his speed, and ran by the coach, directly afterward reining his horse into a walk as before. [Illustration] A succession of similar manoeuvres was kept up till the coach reached Holden, a distance of three or four miles, and during this time the facetious Stark, not content with these highly aggravating proceedings, added insult to injury by personal reflections on the skill of the driver and the character of his horses. "Hallo, you driver!" shouted he derisively, "why don't you _drive_? If there's any of your passengers in a hurry, I'll take 'em on, and tell the folks that you'll be along in the course of a day or two." To this the driver wisely answered nothing, but his tormentor did not profit by his example. After some ineffectual attempts on the part of the U. S. functionary to pass the wagon, which were foiled as before, Stark again essayed to beguile the time with a further display of his conversational powers. "Guess your horses ain't very well trained to keep the road, are they? They seem to go from one side to the other as if they couldn't draw a bee-line. May be, though, they are kinder faint, and that's what makes 'em stagger about so. I'll try 'em."