_ CHAPTER XVIII. A MYSTERIOUS SOUND
The stage-agent at W---- was right in declaring that the coach might be held up on the rough trail that was always driven by daylight, for the party he feared were some wild fellows who had ridden into the settlement two days before and stated that they were on their way to the mines.
They were well mounted and armed, had several packhorses with them, and, though not having the excuse of drinking to make them dreaded, had carried on in a way that caused all peaceably disposed persons to dread them.
Who they were no one knew, and when they left the place honest men breathed more freely and congratulated each other that no tragedy had occurred, as a reminder of their visit.
They had gone out upon the trail to Last Chance late in the afternoon, and the agent felt sure that they would camp early and meet the coach the next morning, and the result he greatly feared, after a look at the party in question; so he was rejoiced to find that Harding had taken the great risk of driving through by night.
The crowd that he dreaded were five in number, and they were young men, bronzed-faced, brawny, and with an air of recklessness stamped upon them. That they were a dangerous lot their appearance indicated, and few men would care to face them where no help was at hand.
They had halted some dozen miles from W----, and gone into camp on a brook a few hundred yards from the trail the stage would follow. That they knew their way well their movements were proof of, for they rode at once to the camping-place, staked out their horses, spread their blankets, and gathered wood to cook their supper with.
The spot chosen was one where they could command a view of the trail for a mile in both directions, yet remain in concealment themselves.
They had supper, then gambled a while by the light of the fire, and afterward turned in, setting no watch.
It was about midnight when one of the party awoke, half-arose and listened. He heard a rumbling sound that seemed to surprise him.
"I say, pards," he called out.
A man awoke, and asked drowsily:
"What is it, Sully?"
"I hear wheels."
"Nonsense."
"But I do."
"It's the roar of the stream."
"I don't think so."
"I does."
Others were awakened and listened, and they distinctly heard a low, rumbling sound. But, after some minutes, the sound died away and the one who had first discovered it asked:
"Do you think it could have been the coach?"
"No, indeed."
"Why not?"
"No man living would dare drive a coach over this trail at night."
"It sounded to me like wheels."
"There it is again."
All listened attentively, and then one said:
"It is the wind in the pines."
The wind was rising and this solution of mysterious sound seemed to settle the matter, so all laid down in their blankets once more.
The man who had discovered the sound was the one to arise first in the morning, and the day was just dawning when he left his blankets, gazed about him, and then walked over to where the stage-trail ran, several hundred yards from their camp, and along through a bit of meadow-land.
He had hardly reached the trail when he gave a loud halloo, which brought his comrades from their blankets in an instant, and his call set them coming toward him at a run.
"Look there, pards!" he cried, and as each man reached his side he stood gazing down at the trail.
"The stage has gone by," said one, with an oath, as his eyes fell upon the tracks of the six horses and the wheel-marks, lately made.
"Then one man was bold enough to dare the drive at night!"
"Sure, and the chief will be furious with us!"
"What is to be done now?"
"The coach is safe in W---- now, for if that fellow drove safely over the back trail he had no trouble beyond here."
"Then we had better get a move on us."
"Sure, for that agent suspects us, and there'll be a gang on our heels mighty quick," and hastening back to camp, the party mounted and rode rapidly on toward the mountains. _