The words next following were either drowned by the wind or muffled and smothered in the man's neck-cloths; but by-and-by I caught another line or two-- "Ho! ho! my lady saith, Step in and ride with me: She takes the baby, white as death, And jigs him on her knee. The wheels go round without a sound--" This seemed to be the refrain. "The wheels go round without a sound Or [inaudible again] horse's tread, My lady's breath is foul as death, Her driver has no head--" "Huh!" grunted I, sinking my shoulders deeper in my overcoat. "A nice sort of vehicle to meet, say on a night like this, at the next turn of the road!" The man peered at me suddenly, and leaned forward to shorten his reins, for we were on the edge of a steepish dip downhill. The lamplight shone on his huge forearm (as thick as an ordinary man's thigh) and on his clumsy, muffled hands. "Well, and so we might," he answered, picking up his whip again and indicating the dark moorland on our left. "That's if half the tales be true." "Haunted?" I asked, scanning the darkness. "Opposition coach--hearse and pair, driven by the Old Gentleman hisself. For my part, I don't believe a word of it. Leastways, I've driven along here often enough, and in most weathers, and I ha'n't met it yet." "You're taking this bit pretty confidently anyhow," was my comment, as he shortened rein again; for the hill proved to be a precipitous one, and the horses, held back against the weight of the coach, went down the slope with much sprawling of hind-quarters and kicking up of loose stones. "Don't you put on the skid for this, as a rule?" "Well, now, as you say, it might be wiser. This half-thaw makes the roads cruel greasy." With a tremendous wrench he dragged the team to a standstill. "Jim, my lad, hop down and give her the shoe." I heard Jim clambering down, then the loud rattle of the chain as he unhitched the shoe, not interrupting his song, however-- "Ho! ho! my lady saith, Step in and ride with me: She takes the bride as white as death--" "Hold up, there!" commanded a voice out of the darkness on my left. "Hullo!" I whipped out one of my pistols and faced the sound, at the same instant shouting to the driver: "Quick, man! duck your head and give 'em the whip! Curse you for a coward--don't sit there hesitating!--the whip, I say, and put 'em at it!" But the fellow would not budge. I turned, leaned past him, plucked the whip from its socket, and lashed out at the leaders. They plunged forward as a bullet sang over my head; but before they could break into a gallop the driver had wrenched them back again on their haunches. The coach gave a lurch or two and once more came to a standstill.