Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

“Is there much danger of meeting them?” asked Melville.

“Well, there’s a chance. They are quite in the habit of attacking stage-coaches, and plundering the passengers. Sometimes they make rich hauls.”

“That must be rather inconvenient to the passengers.” said Melville. “Can’t the laws reach these outlaws?”

“They don’t seem to. Why, there are men who have been in the business for years, and have never been caught.”

“Very true,” said a fellow traveler. “There’s Jerry Lane, for instance. He has succeeded thus far in eluding the vigilance of the authorities.”

“Yes,” said the colonel, “I once saw Lane myself. Indeed he did me the honor of relieving me of five hundred dollars.”

“Couldn’t you help it?” asked Herbert.

“No; he covered me with his revolver, and if I had drawn mine I shouldn’t have lived to take aim at him.”

“Were you in a stage at the time?”

“No, I was riding on horseback.”

“Is this Lane a large man?” asked George Melville.

“Not larger than myself,” continued the colonel.

“Where does he live—in some secret haunt in the forest, I suppose?”

“Oh, no, he doesn’t confine himself to one place. He travels a good deal. Sometimes he goes to St. Louis. I have heard that he sometimes even visits New York.”

“And is he not recognized?”

“No; he looks like anything but an outlaw. If you should see him you might think him a prosperous merchant, or banker.”

“That’s curious!” said Herbert.

“The fact is,” said the colonel, “when you travel by stage-coaches in these solitudes you have to take the chances. Now I carry my money concealed in an inner pocket, where it isn’t very likely to be found. Of course I have another wallet, just for show, and I give that up when I have to.”

There was a stout, florid gentleman present, who listened to the above conversation with ill-disguised nervousness. He was a New York capitalist, of German birth, going out to inspect a mine in which he proposed purchasing an interest. His name was Conrad Stiefel.

“Good gracious!” said he, “I had no idea a man ran such a risk, or I would have stayed at home. I decidedly object to being robbed.”

“Men are robbed in a different way in New York,” said George Melville.

“How do you mean, Mr. Melville?”

“By defaulting clerks, absconding cashiers, swindlers of excellent social position.”

“Oh, we don’t mind those things,” said Mr. Stiefel. “We can look out for ourselves. But when a man points at you with a revolver, that is terrible!”

“I hope, my dear sir, you take good care of your money.”

“That I do,” said Stiefel, complacently. “I carry it in a belt around my waist. That’s a good place, hey?”

“I commend your prudence, sir,” said the colonel. “You are evidently a wise and judicious man.”

“They won’t think of looking there, hey?” laughed Stiefel.

“I should say not.”

“You may think what you like, Mr. Stiefel,” said a tall, thin passenger, who looked like a book peddler, “but I contend that my money is in a safer place than yours.”

“Indeed, Mr. Parker, I should like to know where you keep it,” said Col. Warner, pleasantly.

“You can’t get at it without taking off my stockings,” said the tall man, looking about him in a self-satisfied manner.

“Very good, ‘pon my soul!” said the colonel. “I really don’t know but I shall adopt your hiding place. I am an old traveler, but not too old to adopt new ideas when I meet with good ones.”

“I think you would find it to your interest, Colonel,” said Parker, looking flattered.

“Well, well,” said the colonel, genially, “suppose we change the subject. There isn’t much chance of our being called upon to produce our money, or part with it. Still, as I said a while since, it’s best to be cautious, and I see that you all are so. I begin to feel hungry, gentlemen. How is it with you?”

“Are we anywhere near the place for supper?” asked Stiefel. “I wish I could step into a good Broadway restaurant; I feel empty.”

“Only a mile hence, gentlemen, we shall reach Echo Gulch, where we halt for the night. There’s a rude cabin there, where they will provide us with supper and shelter.”

This announcement gave general satisfaction. The colonel proved to be right. The stage soon drew up in front of a long one-story building, which bore the pretentious name of the Echo Gulch Hotel.

CHAPTER XXIII. A STARTLING REVELATION

A stout, black-bearded man stood in front of the hotel to welcome the stage passengers. He took a clay pipe from his lips and nodded a welcome.

“Glad to see you, strangers,” he said. “Here, Peter, you black rascal, help the gentlemen with their baggage.”

The door was thrown open, and the party filed into a comfortless looking apartment, at one end of which was a rude bar.

One of the passengers, at least, seemed to know the landlord, for Col. Warner advanced to greet him, his face beaming with cordiality.

“How are you, John?” he said. “How does the world use you?”

The landlord growled something inaudible.

“Have a drink, colonel?” was the first audible remark.

“Don’t care if I do. It’s confounded dry traveling over these mountain roads. Walk up, gentlemen. Col. Warner doesn’t drink alone.”

With the exception of Herbert and George Melville, the passengers seemed inclined to accept the offer.

“Come along, Melville,” said the colonel; “you and your friend must join us.”

“Please excuse me, colonel,” answered Melville. “I would prefer not to drink.”