Do and Dare: A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

Melville makes A sensation.

Col.  Warner seemed in very good spirits.  He ate and drank with violent enjoyment, and was as affable as usual.  George Melville regarded him with curiosity.

“The man does not appear like a desperado or outlaw,” he thought.  “There is nothing to distinguish him from the majority of men one meets in ordinary intercourse.  He is a problem to me, I should like to study him.”

Col.  Warner did not fail to observe the unconscious intentness with which Melville regarded him, and, for some reason, it did not please him.

“You have lost your appetite, Mr. Melville,” he said, lightly.  “You have been looking at me until—­egad!—­if I were a vain man, I should conclude there was something striking about my appearance.”

“I won’t gainsay that, Colonel,” answered Melville, adroitly.  “I confess I am not very hungry, and I will further confess that I have something on my mind.”

“Indeed!  Better make me your father confessor,” said the colonel, whose suspicion or annoyance was removed by this ready reply.

“So I may, after a while,” said Melville.

He took the hint, and ceased to regard the colonel.

The latter made himself generally social, and generally popular.

The stage drove round to the door after breakfast, and there was the usual bustle, as the passengers bestowed themselves inside.

George Melville had intended to watch narrowly the landlord and Col.  Warner, to detect, if possible, the secret understanding which must exist between them.  But he was deprived of an opportunity, for the very good reason that the landlord had disappeared, and was not again seen before their departure.

The driver gathered up his reins, cracked his whip, and the stage started.  Herbert looked at George Melville a little anxiously, not knowing what course he had decided to take.  They two, it will be remembered, were the only ones who knew of the intended attack.

Before the stage started, Melville quietly took the opportunity to hand his pocketbook to Herbert, saying, briefly:  “It will be safer with you in case of an attack.”

“But won’t it be considered suspicious that you have no money about you?” suggested Herbert.

“I have a roll of bills in my pocket-fifty dollars,” answered Melville.

They had no further opportunity of speaking, as one of the passengers came up where they were standing.

Herbert had already taken his seat in the coach, when his employer said:  “Herbert, wouldn’t you like to ride outside with the driver?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Herbert, promptly, for he understood, that this was Mr. Melville’s wish.

“It will give us more room, and you will have a better view.”

“Yes, sir; I shall like it.”

In a quick manner Herbert made the change, taking care not to look significantly at Melville, as some boys might have done, and thus excited suspicion.

For the first mile there was very little conversation.

Then Col.  Warner spoke.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “we are fairly on our way.  Let us hope nothing will mar our pleasure.”

“Do you anticipate anything?” asked George Melville.

“I!  Why should I?  We have a skillful driver, and I guarantee he won’t tip us over.”

“Mr. Melville was, perhaps, referring to the chance of the stage being stopped by some enterprising road agent,” suggested Parker.

“Oho!  Sits the wind in that quarter?” said the Colonel, laughing lightly.  “Not the least chance of that—­that is, the chance is very slight.”

“You spoke differently yesterday,” said the German capitalist.

“Did I?  I didn’t mean it, I assure you.  We are as safe here as if we were riding in the interior of New York.  I suppose I was only whiling away a few idle minutes.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said the German.  “I shouldn’t like to meet any of these gentlemen.”

“Nor I,” answered Melville; “but I am prepared to give him or them a warm reception.”

As he spoke he drew a revolver from his pocket.  He sat next to the door, and in an exposed situation.

“Put up your shooting iron, Mr. Melville,” said Col.  Warner, exhibiting a slight shade of annoyance.  “Let me exchange places with you.  I should prefer the post of danger, if’ there is any.”

“You are very kind, Colonel,” said Melville, quietly, “but I don’t care to change.  I am quite satisfied with my seat.”

“But, my dear sir, I insist—­” said the Colonel, making a motion to rise.

“Keep your seat, Colonel!  I insist upon staying where I am,” answered Melville.

He was physically far from formidable, this young man, but there was a resolute ring in his voice that showed he was in earnest.

“Really, my dear sir,” said the Colonel, trying to conceal his annoyance, “you have been quite misled by my foolish talk.  I did not suppose you were so nervous.”

“Possibly I may have a special reason for being so,” returned George Melville.

“What do you mean?” demanded the Colonel, quickly.  “If you have, we are all interested, and ought to know it.”

“The Colonel is right,” said the German.  “If you know of any danger, it is only fair to inform us all.”

“I am disposed to agree with you, gentlemen,” said Melville.  “Briefly, then, I have good reason to think that this company of passengers has been marked for plunder.”

Col.  Warner started, but, quickly recovering himself, he laughed uneasily.

“Tush!” he said, “I put no faith in it.  Some one has been deceiving you, my friend.”

But the other passengers took it more seriously.

“You evidently know something that we do not,” said Parker.

“I do,” answered Melville.

Col.  Warner looked at him searchingly, but did not speak.

Now was the time to test George Melville’s nerve.  He was about to take a bold step.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I regret to say that I have every reason to believe there is a man in this stage who is in league with the road agents.”

This statement naturally made a sensation.

There were seven passengers, and each regarded the rest with new-born suspicion.  There seemed, on the whole, about as much reason to suspect one man as another, and each, with the exception of Melville, found himself looked upon with distrust.

“Pooh, Melville!  You must have had bad dreams!” said Col.  Warner, who was the first to recover his self-possession.  “Really, I give you credit for a first-class sensation.  As for you, gentlemen, you may take stock in this cock-and-bull story, if you like; I shall not.  I, for one, have no fear of my fellow passengers.  I regard them all as gentlemen, and shall not allow myself to be disturbed by any silly fears.”

The air of calm composure with which the Colonel spoke served to tranquilize the rest of the passengers, who wished to put credit in his assurance.

“The Colonel speaks sensibly,” said Mr. Parker, “and unless Mr. Melville assigns a reason for his remarkable belief, I am disposed to think we have taken alarm too quick.”

“Of course, of course; all sensible men will think so,” said the Colonel.  “My friend, we shall be tempted to laugh at you if you insist on entertaining us with such hobgoblin fancies.  My advice is, to put up that weapon of yours, and turn your attention to the scenery, which I can assure you, gentlemen, is well worthy of your admiration.  Just observe the walls of yonder canyon, and the trees growing on the points.”

“Gentlemen,” said Melville, “I should be glad to take the view of the last speaker, if I had not positive proof that he is the man who has agreed to deliver us into the hands of a road agent within the space of half an I hour!”

“Sir, you shall answer for this!” exclaimed the Colonel, furiously, as he struggled to secure the weapon, his face livid with passion.

But two passengers, one the German, who, though short, was very powerful, forcibly prevented him.