The traces held, for they reached the further side almost by their own impetus, and the guard was at the leaders’ heads before the Glasgow merchant had time to let down his window, and, with all the righteous violence of the armchair man, to launch his reproaches at the driver; Gilbert climbed down and began to help the guard to take out the leaders. The coachman sat quietly in his place. ‘Well, well; we’ll just need to bide whaur we are,’ he said, as the swingle-trees were unhooked. By the light of the lamps, the pole was found to be broken, slantwise, across the middle and there was nothing for the passengers to do but make the best of their position and await the morning. The gale continued to rage; and, though the guard declared it possible to lash the breakage together and proceed carefully by daylight, such an attempt would be out of the question in the state of the roads, while the storm and darkness lasted. The two other outside passengers, one of whom was a minister, were an honest pair of fellows, and they accepted their situation as befitted men of sense. The window of the coach went down and the Glasgow man’s head appeared. He had tied up his face in a woollen handkerchief with large red spots. The ends rose above his head like rabbit’s ears. ‘You’ll take me to the end of my journey or I’ll ken the reason!’ he shouted to the little group. ‘I’ve paid my money to get to Aberdeen and it’s there I’m to go!’ Guard and coachman smiled, the former broadly and the latter at the side of his mouth. Neither said anything. ‘My name’s George Anderson, and I’m very well acquaint wi’ you!’ roared the inside passenger in the voice of one who has discovered a conspiracy. He had never seen any of the party till that morning, but he did not seem to mind that. ‘The pole is broken, sir. You can see it for yourself if you will come out,’ said Gilbert, going up to the coach. ‘Na, thank ye. I’m best whaur I am,’ said the man. The smile now extended to the minister and his companion, and, at sight of this, the merchant burst into fresh wrath. ‘Am I to be kept a’ the night in this place?’ he cried. ‘I warrant ye, I’ll have the lot o’ ye sorted for this when I get to Aberdeen!’ ‘If you like to ride one of the leaders into Blackport, you can,’ suggested Gilbert, with a sting in his voice; ‘the guard is going with the mails on the other.’ ‘Aye, ye’d best do that. Ye’d look bonnie riding into the town wi’ yon thing on your head,’ said the minister, who had a short temper. The window went up. The united efforts of Speid and his four companions succeeded in getting the coach to one side of the way, and three of the horses were tied up, its shelter between them and the weather; the Glasgow merchant remained inside while they moved it. The rain was abating and there were a few clear patches in the sky, as, with the mail-bags slung round him, the guard mounted the fourth horse and prepared to ride forward.