“‘I have heard something which leads me to think that the road agents are going to try to rob the stage, which will have some treasure freight. The only passengers besides us will be a couple of greasers, who can’t help us if they would. You know the boys say that the agents always have things their own way. Now, as I feel at present, I’m not inclined to give up without a try. I don’t want to ring you in unless you are for it; but, with all the trouble I’ve had, a bullet more or less is of no account to me; but I have a notion,’ he continued, ‘that I can block their game. It was done once by an old pard of mine, and, if you say so, I’ll try it, and you just follow my lead. Will you take the chances?’ I knew him to be a man of desperate courage and fertile in resource, and I assented. ‘What kind of shooting-iron have you?’ he asked. ‘Navy Colt? No, that’s good in its way; but I’ll lend you a self-cocker like mine. Mind and take at least a strong cup of coffee before we start; and now you’d better turn in.’ “In the morning we took our places in the coach, the major sitting on the front seat, and left-hand side; I sat opposite, and each had a silent Mexican next him. We drove without incident to the place where the horses were first changed; but, before we started again, my friend said to me, “‘I allow that we’ll have our trouble, if at all, in the cañon four miles ahead. Now just put your blanket over your lap and hold your pistol under it. Keep a bright look-out, and if we strike ’em, just have your wits about you, and be ready to fire after I do.’ Soon we rolled off again, and I saw him lean back for awhile and then sit upright, and keep his eye fixed on the road. The horses were good; we soon approached the cañon, and the suspense became almost unbearable. I could not help thinking about our chances in the case of attack. Just then--I remember that I was looking at a group of cedars--the stage stopped, and, as if conjured up by the hand of a magician, three men on horseback appeared on our side, two close to us, one behind. I seemed to comprehend the whole situation in the twinkling of an eye; the figures--the levelled barrels--the major sitting before me. “‘_Throw up your hands, ---- ---- you!_’ They were reckless enough to wear no masks--the speaker lowered his head to look in. Heavens! shall I ever forget that scene? On my part there was a startling recognition--on the major’s there must have been the same, for never have I seen a human face so transformed, and it added an almost demoniacal force to the action, which all passed in a flash. The terror of the sudden start, the throwing out of the left arm, the frightened glare of the eyes, may have been the product of rare dramatic power; but there was something far more terribly real in his wild cry,