look or listen, but got up and dusted the best they knew how; and yet you can come on a bunch of deer and they’ll hear you and jump to their feet and look at you, and maybe you can fire three or four shots at them and kill two or three before they’ll run away.”

“Yes,” said the driver, “that’s sure enough true; but you mustn’t say that it’s only deer or game that acts that way. Take a dog now——”

“Yes,” said Hugh, “that’s right enough, too.”

“Why,” said the driver, “I have seen dogs—owned ’em, too—that didn’t seem to get any satisfaction at all out of their eyes; they couldn’t trust them. I have seen the time when I’d be walking along with my dog, and maybe I’d get a little ahead or a little behind him and I’d stop to talk with three or four fellows, and the dog would start to look for me; and even if he saw me right plain, he wouldn’t be sure it was me until he had come up behind me and stuck the end of his nose against my leg so that he could smell me. I remember once standing with three or four men in front of the Bella saloon in Benton when my dog did a trick like that. One of the men I was talking to didn’t like dogs; in fact, he was awful scared of them. The dog came up to us and smelt of each man, and when he shoved his nose hard against the leg of the man who was afraid of dogs, the man felt the dog’s nose and looked down and saw the dog, and he thought he’d been bit. He jumped about four feet into the air and reached for his gun to try to kill the dog that had bit him, but the others of us got hold of him and held him until we’d explained matters.

“Curious how scared some people are over a little thing, and yet maybe all the time they’ve got good sand and wouldn’t run away in the worst kind of a scrap.”

“Yes,” said Hugh, “that’s one of the queer things about human nature; you never can tell what it is that is going to scare a man. I’ve seen men that would run a mile to get away from some little bug like a spider or a hornet, and yet I know those men weren’t cowards, because I’ve seen them in tight places and they were always willing to take as many risks as anybody. Why, once I even saw a man that was afraid of a mouse.”

“No?” exclaimed the stage driver.

“Fact,” said Hugh. “He was afraid of a mouse, and when one ran over his face, just after he had gone to bed, he got up and sat by the fire all night for fear it would do it again.”

“Why, Hugh,” said Jack, “don’t you remember that the great Napoleon was afraid of a cat. It would make him sick if there was one in the room, even though he didn’t see it and didn’t know that it was there. And Napoleon was one of the greatest soldiers that ever lived, and, I suppose, a brave man.”

“Yes,” said Hugh, “I reckon he was.”

“I have known lots of people,” Jack went on, “who were afraid of snakes. It didn’t make any difference whether they were venomous snakes or not. Just as long as they were snakes, they scared these people.”

“That’s so,” said Hugh. “I’ve known one man that was afraid of snakes, and, what’s more, he could tell if there was one around, whether he saw it or not. He said he smelled them. That seems queer, too.”

“It does for a fact,” remarked the driver.

Before they had passed through the Prickly Pear Canyon they reached the stage station where the horses were to be changed. There all hands got down and walked about a little to stretch their legs; but in a very few minutes four fresh horses had been harnessed and they recommenced their journey.

“Do you ever have trouble with road agents on this line?” Hugh asked of the driver.

“No,” said he, “we’ve never been stopped but once. The fact is, we scarcely ever carry anything that makes it worth while for anyone to stop the stage. Early this spring, though, my partner was held up just as he was coming over the Bird Tail Divide. There had been some talk of sending out some dust from Benton by the stage, but it was given up and the gold went out another way. Of course none of us knew that it was going, but the news must have got out somehow, for that night, just as the stage reached the top of the Bird Tail Divide and the two leaders had got up onto the level, two men stepped out in the moonlight and told Buck—that’s my partner—to stop. He started to lay the whip on his horses, but they were all walking, and the men brought down their guns and called to him again that if he started they’d kill the leaders. So he pulled up and asked the men what they wanted, and they said they wanted the treasure chest and told him to throw it down. He said there wasn’t any treasure chest, and if they didn’t believe him they could come and search the coach. With that a third man that Buck hadn’t seen before popped up from the side of the road and climbed up and looked through the boot and searched Buck, and then went through the whole stage. They were a pretty mad lot when they let Buck go on.”

“Was it ever known who they were?”

“No,” said the driver. “I always had an idea that Buck knew who the little fellow was that searched the stage, but as they didn’t get anything and didn’t bother Buck any, I reckon he didn’t want to say much about it.”

All through the day they trotted briskly forward changing horses at regular intervals, so that the teams were always fresh and progress rapid. They had dinner and supper at the stage stations which they passed, and about ten o’clock at night reached Fort Shaw.

By this time both Hugh and Jack were tired and sleepy, but the driver seemed as fresh as ever.

While the horses were being changed, Hugh sat down on the front steps of the building and smoked his pipe, and Jack, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, walked up and down on the boardwalk. As he was doing this he was joined by a little Irishman, who conversed pleasantly.

“Are you working now?” said the little man, as he puffed at his short pipe.

“No,” said Jack, “not now. I’m just going up to Benton.”

“Do yez want work?” asked the stranger. “I need a couple more hands on me ranch down below here and I’d like to hire yez. Thirty dollars and board is what I pay; good wages for the time and for the country.”

“Well,” said Jack, “I’d like the work and I’d like the money, but I’m just traveling through the country and I’ve got to meet a man in Benton, and couldn’t stop now to take even a good job.”

“Well,” said the man, “I’m sorry. If ever yez come through Shaw again, maybe ye’d be needin’ work, and ye’d better come to my place and see if I can’t give yez a job. Maloney is me name, on Sun River, five miles below the post.”

Jack was quite tickled at this offer, and when they started again, told Hugh about it.

“Yes,” said Hugh, “you are getting to be a man now, and ought to be able to do a man’s work, and I reckon you are.”

All through the night the stage rattled and swung over the prairie, and soon after the sun rose the next morning trotted swiftly across Benton bottom and drew up at the end of its journey.

CHAPTER II

HISTORIC LAND

“THERE are some friends of ours,” said Hugh, as the stage approached the hotel, and he raised his hand and made the Indian sign to attract attention.

“Yes,” said Jack, “I see them. There is Baptiste and there’s Joe, too. It’s splendid to see them both again.” Jack signaled earnestly and made the sign for shaking hands, to which his two friends responded.

As the stage drew up, Hugh said, “Now, son, you get down into the boot and haul out our bags and throw them to me,” and when Hugh had reached the ground Jack passed him the bags and then sprang down