A gasp of astonishment greeted this unexpected vision. Men stood gaping at the beaming choreman sitting perched up on the driving-seat. It was the first time in his life he had ever been allowed to handle the gambler's equine children, and his joy and pride were written in every furrow of his age-lined features. The man sat waiting, while the thoroughbreds pawed the ground and reached restively at their bits. But they were like babes to handle, for their manners were perfect. They had been taught by a master-hand whose lessons had been well learned. And the picture they made was one that inspired admiration and envy in every eye and heart of those who now beheld them. But these were not the only emotions the sight provoked. Blank astonishment and incredulous wonder stirred them, too. Bill's horses! Bill's cart! Where--where was the gambler himself? Was this the stage? Was Bill--? The talk which had been so long suppressed now broke out afresh. Everybody asked questions, but nobody answered any. They crowded about the cart. They inspected the horses with eyes of admiration and wonder. No man could have withstood the sight of the rope-like veins standing out through their velvet skin. They fondled them, and talked to them as men will talk to horses. And it was only when Minky suddenly appeared in their midst, bearing in his arms an iron-clamped case which he deposited in the body of the cart, that their attention was diverted, and they remembered the purpose in hand. The gold-chest deposited and made secure, the storekeeper turned to the crowd about him. "Well, boys," he said, with an amiable smile, "any more mail? Any you fellers got things you need to send to your sisters--or somebody else's sisters? You best get it ready sharp. We're startin' at eight o'clock. After that you'll sure be too late. Y'see," he added humorously, "we ain't figgered when the next stage goes." He pulled out his nickel silver timepiece. "It's needin' five minutes to schedule," he went on officially, glancing keenly down the trail. Anyone sufficiently observant, and had they been quick enough, might have detected a shade of anxiety in his glance. He moved round to the side of the cart and spoke to the man in the driving-seat. "It's nigh eight. He ain't here?" he said questioningly. "Guess he'll be right along, boss," the little man returned in a low voice. Again the storekeeper glanced anxiously down the trail. Then he turned away with a slight sigh. "Well, boys," he said, with another attempt at jocularity, "if ther' ain't nuthin' doin', guess this mail's sure closed." Passing again to the back of the cart, he gazed affectionately upon the gold-chest. Then he lifted his eyes just as Van voiced the question in everybody's mind. "You sure ain't sendin' pore old Danny with that stage?" he cried incredulously. "You sure ain't sendin' him fer James to sift lead through? You ain't lettin' him drive Bill's horses?"