“Well,” said Southmayd, “I believe they are, but we can’t help ourselves now.” As he said this, the leaders were nearly up with the horsemen. They rapidly wheeled their horses, and presented their guns,—Graves taking in range the head of Caldwell; Ives, that of Southmayd; and Zachary alternately aiming at Moore and Billy. “Halt!” commanded Ives; “throw up your hands,” and on the instant the arms of every man in the coach were raised. “Get down, all of you,” he added. All but Southmayd jumped to the ground. He lingered, with the hope that an opportunity might offer to fire upon them. “Get down,” repeated Ives, adding a sententious epithet to the command. Still hesitating to comply, Ives glanced his eye along his gun-barrel as if to shoot, and in that subdued tone always expressive of desperation, once more issued the command. Southmayd withstood it no longer, but while making a deliberate descent threw open his coat, thinking that an opportunity might offer for him to use his revolver. Ives, perceiving his object, levelled his gun, and hissed out, in words terribly distinct, “If you do that again, I’ll kill you!” The passengers stood with upraised hands by the roadside, under cover of the guns of the robbers. Addressing Zachary, Ives said, “Get down and look after those fellows.” This was an unwelcome task for Zachary. Villain as he was, Southmayd says that while he was engaged in searching his person, he quivered like an aspen. Throwing Southmayd’s pistol and money on the ground, he was about to renew the search, when Billy, tired of the position, dropped his hands. “Up with your hands again,” roared Ives with an oath, at the same time bringing the terrible muzzles to bear upon the person of the frightened driver. Billy, who felt that it was no time to bandy proprieties, threw them up with more speed than pleasure, realizing that the buckshot were safer in the barrels than in his luckless carcass. Zachary now commenced searching Moore, and, taking from his pocket a sack, inquired, “Is this all you have?” “All I have in the world,” replied Moore. Zachary threw it on the heap and came to Billy. “Give me your pistol,” said he. Billy placed the weapon in his hands. “Is it loaded?” inquired Ives. “No,” replied Billy. “Give it to him again,” said Ives to Zachary. “We don’t want any empty weapons.” “My God!” exclaimed Caldwell, as Zachary next approached him. “What do you want of me? I have nothing.” “Let him alone,” said Ives; and addressing Caldwell, he inquired, “Is there anything in the mail we want?” “I don’t think there is,” answered Tom. Zachary mounted the box, and commenced an examination, but found nothing. Caldwell scanned the villain narrowly, for the purpose, if possible, of recognizing him. “Don’t you do that, if you want to live,” said Ives, rattling his gun into dangerous range. “Well then,” said Tom impudently, “may I look at you?”