would rather have had him with her inside, but he pleaded so earnestly, and Mr. Miller assuring her that he was not the least trouble, she finally consented to his staying up until they changed horses again.

When they were changing horses at this post, Mr. Miller drew Bert's attention to a powerful black horse one of the men was carefully leading out of the stable. All the other horses came from their stalls fully harnessed, but this one had on nothing except a bridle.

"See how that horse carries on, Bert," said Mr. Miller.

And, sure enough, the big brute was prancing about with ears bent back and teeth showing in a most threatening fashion.

"They daren't harness that horse until he is in his place beside the pole, Bert. See, now, they're going to put the harness on him."

And as he spoke another stable hand came up, deftly threw the heavy harness over the horse's back, and set to work to buckle it with a speed that showed it was a job he did not care to dally over. No sooner was it accomplished than the other horses were hastily put in their places, the black wheeler in the meantime tramping upon the barn floor in a seeming frenzy of impatience, although his head was tightly held.

"Now, then, 'all aboard' as quick as you can," shouted Jack Davis, swinging himself into his seat. Mr. Miller handed up Bert and followed himself, the inside passengers scrambled hurriedly in, and then with a sharp whinny the black wheeler, his head being released, started off, almost pulling the whole load himself.

"Black Rory does not seem to get over his bad habits, Jack," remarked Mr. Miller.

"No," replied Jack; "quite the other way. He's getting worse, if anything; but he's too good a horse to chuck over. There's not a better wheeler on the route than Rory, once he settles down to his work."

After going a couple of miles, during which Rory behaved about as badly as a wheeler could, he did settle down quietly to his work and all went smoothly. They were among the hills now, and the steep ascents and descents, sharp turns, and many bridges over the gullies made it necessary for Davis to drive with the utmost care. At length they reached the summit of the long slope, and began the descent into the valley.

"I'd just as soon I hadn't any doubts about this brake," said Davis to Mr. Miller, as he put his foot hard down upon it.

"Oh, it'll hold all right enough, Jack," replied Mr. Miller, reassuringly.

"Hope so," said Davis. "If it doesn't, we'll have to run for it to the bottom."

The road slanted steadily downward, and with brake held hard and wheelers spread out from the pole holding back with all their strength, the heavy coach lumbered cautiously down. Now it was that Black Rory proved his worth, for, thoroughly understanding what was needed of him, he threw his whole weight and strength back upon the pole, keeping his own mate no less than the leaders in check.

"We'll be at Brown's Gully in a couple of minutes," said the driver. "Once we get past there, all right; the rest won't matter."

Brown's Gully was the ugliest bit of road on the whole route. A steep hill, along the side of which the road wound at a sharp slant, led down to a deep, dark gully crossed by a high trestle bridge. Just before the bridge there was a sudden turn which required no common skill to safely round when going at speed.

As they reached the beginning of the slant, Jack Davis' face took on an anxious look, his mouth became firm and set, his hand tightened upon the reins, and his foot upon the brake, and with constant exclamation to his horses of "Easy now!—go easy!—hold back, my beauties!" he guided the great coach in its descent.

Mr. Miller put Bert between his knees, saying:

"Stick right there, my boy; don't budge an inch."

Although the wheelers, and particularly Black Rory, were doing their best, the coach began to go faster than Davis liked, and with a shout of "Whoa there! Go easy, will you!" he had just shoved his foot still harder against the brake, when there was a sharp crack, and the huge vehicle suddenly sprang forward upon the wheelers' heels.

"God help us!" cried Jack, "the brake's gone. We've got to run for it now."

And run for it they did.

It was a time of great peril. Mr. Miller clung tightly to the seat, and Bert shrank back between his knees. Davis, with feet braced against the dashboard, and reins gathered close in his hands, put forth all his great strength to control the horses, now flying over the narrow road at a wild gallop. Brown's Gully, already sombre with the shadows of evening, showed dark and deep before them. Just around that corner was the bridge. Were they to meet another carriage there, it would mean destruction to both. Davis well knew this, and gave a gasp of relief when they swung round the corner and saw that the road was clear. If they could only hit the bridge, all right; the danger would be passed.

"Now, Rory, now," shouted Davis, giving a tremendous tug at the horse's left rein, and leaning far over in that direction himself.