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Updated: June 26, 2025
At intervals, a freight-wagon was passed, drawn to one side, at a "turn-out," or a rabbit skipped across the road, or a solitary horseman suggested alternately a "road-agent," or one of James's heroes. Grand views presented themselves of wooded cliffs and wild ravines. Tall pines threw lengthening shadows across the open spaces on the mountain-sides.
"Don't do anything rash," Mr. Richie advised, and took advantage of a friend's privilege to be insulting. "I helped lynch a road-agent only last month." "Which the huh-holdup business is too easy for a live man," opined Mr. Dawson. "We want somethin' mum-more diff-diff-diff'cult, me an' Swing do, so we're goin' to Arizona where the gold grows. No more wrastlin' cows. No more hard work for us.
In other words, you're an outlaw; a soft-spoken, lazy, good-for-nothin' road-agent. An' though Socorro ain't never had anything on you before, it knows you had a hand in robbin' the express office last night. An' it's " "You're a damn " " like playin' a king-full against three deuces that you done the trick.
Three long hearty cheers, lads, and a hummer!" cried Fearless Frank, and then the mountain echoes reverberated with a thousand discordant yells of hurrah. The young road-agent responded with a nod, and then said: "The prisoners; have you them there?" "Here they are, Cap!" cried a score of voices, and the two Filmores were trotted out to the front, with ropes already about their necks.
It'll not matter to a girl who can never tell!... Have I forgotten? God! I have not! Listen, so that you'll KNOW I'm bad. My name's not Kells. I was born in the East, and went to school there till I ran away. I was young, ambitious, wild. I stole. I ran away came West in 'fifty-one to the gold-fields in California. There I became a prospector, miner, gambler, robber and road-agent.
"Yes, I shot him, and killed Dave Dockery, the driver, and a miner at the same time," was the remark of the masked road-agent, delivered with the utmost effrontery. "You seem proud of your red work, sir." "Yes, killing is a trade with me just now."
He saw that the coach had been turned to the right-about, the team being headed back for Last Chance, and Doctor Dick was standing near it, Harding being still on the box and grasping the reins. Watching, with every nerve strung, the scout saw the masked road-agent appear, and later the fair captive.
"When he's in the road-agent business, he has a crowd to help him. Now, 'twould do us more good to clean them out than him alone, so let's give him a chance to leave the State if he'll tell who his confederates are. Somebody'll have to take care of him, of course, till we can catch them, and make sure of it."
It was the old "road-agent spin," which Gale as a boy had practised hours at a time; but that this man was in earnest he showed by glancing upward sharply when the trader laughed. "This one hangs all right," he said; "give me a box of cartridges." He emptied his gold-sack in payment for the gun and ammunition, then remarked: "That pretty nearly cleans me. If I had the price I'd take them both."
The etiquette is that the driver mustn't shoot the road-agent, and that the road-agent mustn't hurt the driver, and the passengers are too scared to move. The moment they see a man rise out of the night they throw up their hands. Why, even when a passenger does try to pull his gun the others won't let him. Each thinks sure that if there's any firing he will be the one to get hurt.
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