Molly McDonald / A Tale of the Old Frontier

, across a desert of alkali and sand, lay Devere. The main Santa Fé trail, broad and deeply rutted by the innumerable wheels of early spring caravans, followed the general cou

s, the traveller was seldom for long out of sight of toiling w

orralled In the mountains. This report, seemingly authentic and official, served to relax the nerves, and the west-bound driver sang to himself as he guided the four horses forward, while the conductor, a sawed-off gun planted between his knees, nodded drowsily. Inside there were but three passengers, jerking back and forth, as the wheels struck the deep ruts of the trail, occasionally exchanging a word or two, but usually staring gloomily forth at the monotonous scene. Miss McDonald and Moylan occupied the back seat, some baggage wedged tightly between to keep them more secure on the slippery c

e widely-spreading waters of the Arkansas, barely covering the treacherous sandy bottom, and from the other side came the more distant gleam of alkali plains; to the right arose the bluffs, here both steep and rugged, completely shutting off the view, barren of vegetation except for a few

le quickly, both hands uplifted to show their

to move, and swung out of the saddle beside the front wheel, staggeri

way of Cimarron Springs. There is hell to pay west of here; the s

e driver hoarsely, his startled e

nd came around that way to warn those fellows at Low Water. But when I got sight of that station from off the bluffs yonder it had been wiped out. Then I

s head out the

uch of a fight at the

and scalped. The third man either was taken away, or

t tr

de it so serious-if those Northern Indians have broke

looked at each ot

you?" asked the driver soberly. "Even if we do

his head, rubbin

ere an' Low Water; whar the trail runs in between them two big rocks, most

, the coach groaning as it took the sharp turn. The man on the ground caught a swiftly passin

nc' won't travel another mile. There 's plenty of room for me

horses leaped forward, and the coach careened on the slope of the trail, causing the passengers to clutch wildly to keep from being precipitated into a mass on the floor. As the traces straightened, Miss Molly, clinging desperately to a strap, caught her first fair glance at the newcomer. His hat was tilted back, the light revealing lines of weariness and a coating of the gray, powdery dust of the alkali desert, but bene

genially addressing Moylan. "Not an extremely po

trader at

ss is a bad job for you then." His eyes fell on his seatmate. "Well

the Mexican brokenly

I never did agree. I shut up your game once down at Unio

ng his hands. "It wa

had got hold of you-Saint Anne! but th

. The frightened driver was apparently sparing neither whip nor tongue, the galloping teams jerking the stage after them in a mad race up the trail. Hamlin thrust his head out of the nearest window, but a sudden lurch hurled him back, the coach taking a sharp curve on two wheels,

s and flinging them headlong. They heard the creaking clamp of the brakes, the dancing of frightened horses, a perfect volley of oaths, the crunch of feet as men lea

aned out. He caught a momentary glimpse of two men riding swiftly up the trail; the box ab

hose two damn cowards hav

disaster. He had the reins in his grip when the swinging pole struck the steep side of the bluff, snapping off with a sharp crack, and flinging down the frightened animals, the wheels, crashing against them, as the coach came to a sudden halt. Hamlin hung on grimly, flung forward to the footrail by the force of the shock, his body bruised and aching. One horse lay motionless, head under, apparently instantly killed; his mate struggled to his feet, tore frantically loose from the trace