"
The salesman scrambled into the stage through the door opposite the
one at which the Red Rider was standing, and the road agent again
raised his sombrero with a sweeping gesture worthy of D'Artagnan.
"Good-night, ladies," he said.
"Good-night, sir," Mrs. Truesdall answered, grimly, but exuding a
relieved sigh. Then, her indignation giving her courage, she leaned
from the window and hurled a Parthian arrow. "I must say," she
protested, "I think you might be in a better business."
The road agent waved his hand to the young lady. "Good-by," he said.
"Au revoir," said Miss Post, pleasantly.
"Good-by, miss," stammered the road agent,
"I said 'Au revoir,'" repeated Miss Post.
The road agent, apparently routed by these simple words, fled
muttering toward his horse.
Hunk Smith was having trouble with his brake. He kicked at it and,
stooping, pulled at it, but the wheels did not move.
Mrs. Truesdall fell into a fresh panic. "What is it now?" she called,
miserably.
Before he answered, Hunk Smith threw a quick glance toward the column
of moving dust. He was apparently reassured.
"The brake," he grunted. "The darned thing's stuck!"
The road agent was tugging at the stone beneath which he had slipped
his bridle.
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