When the "outside" recovered from his momentary surprise, he clapped his hand on the shoulder of Mr. Rice, and said, in a voice savage with spite and disappointment: "I arrest you, sir." "Arrest and be d----d!" returned Sam. "If you had done your duty, you'd have arrested _her_ while you had the chance." "That's so--your head is level; and if you'll assist me in getting on to Piney-woods station in time to catch the run-away--for she can't very well drive beyond that station--I'll let you off." "You'll wait till I'm on, I reckon. My horses can't go on that errand, and you darsn't take the up-driver's team. Put that it your pipe and smoke it, old smarty!"--and Sam's eyes emitted steel-blue lightnings, though his face wore a fixed expression of smiling. Upon inquiry, it was ascertained that horses might be procured a mile back from the station; and, while the baffled officer, and such of the passengers as could not wait until next day, went in pursuit of them, Sam mounted one of the "cayuses," and made what haste he could after the coach and Wells, Fargo & Company's express-box. Within a mile or less of Piney-woods Station, he met the keeper, the grooms, and an odd man or two, that chanced to have been about the place, all armed to the teeth, who, when they saw him, halted in surprise. "Why, we reckoned you was dead," said the head man, with an air of disappointment. "Dead?" repeated Sam. "Have you seen my coach?" "That's all right, down to the station; and the plucky gal that druv it told us all about the raid the 'road-agents' made on you. Whar's the passengers? any of 'em killed?" "Passengers are all right. Where is Mrs. Page?" "She cried, an' tuk on awful about ye; an' borrered a hoss to ride right on down the road to meet the other stage, an' let 'em know what's up." "She did, did she?" said Sam, very thoughtfully. "Waal, that _is_ odd. Why, she ran away with my team--that's what she did; and it's all a hoax about the 'road-agents.' The passengers are back at the other station." Sam had suddenly become "all things to all men," to a degree that surprised himself. He was wrong about the horse, too, as was proven by its return to its owner four days after. By the same hand came the following letter to Mr. Samuel Rice: "DEAR MR. RICE: It was so good of you! I thank you more than I can say. I wish I could set myself right in your eyes, for I prize your friendship dearly--dearly; but I know that I cannot. It has not been all my fault. I was married to a bad, bad man, when I was only fifteen. He has ruined my life; but now he is dead, and I need not fear him. I _will_ hereafter live as a good woman should live. The tears run down my cheeks as I write you this farewell--as they did that day when I saw that sweet woman and her babe at the farm-house gate; and knew what was in your thought. Heaven send you such a wife. Good-bye, dear Mr. Rice, good-bye. "DOLLY PAGE!"