Graustark | Page 8

was very much alarmed. It was as dark as pitch outside

and in, and he could not help wondering how near the edge of the
mountain side they were running. A false move of the flying horses and
they might go rolling to the bottom of the ravine, hundreds of feet
below. Still, he must not let her see his apprehension. "This fellow is
considered the best driver in the mountains," he prevaricated. Just then
he remembered having detected liquor on the man's breath as he closed
the door behind him. Perhaps he was intoxicated!
"Do you know him?" questioned the clear voice, her lips close to his
ear, her warm body pressing against his.
"Perfectly. He is no other than Lighthorse Jerry, the king of stage
drivers." In the darkness he smiled to himself maliciously.
"Oh, then we need feel no alarm," she said, reassured, not knowing that
Jerry existed only in the yellow-backed novel her informant had read
when a boy.
There was such a roaring and clattering that conversation became
almost impossible. When either spoke it was with the mouth close to
the ear of the other. At such times Grenfall could feel her breath on his
cheek, Her sweet voice went tingling to his toes with every word she
uttered. He was in a daze, out of which sung the mad wish that he
might clasp her in his arms, kiss her, and then go tumbling down the
mountain. She trembled in the next fierce lurches, but gave forth no
complaint. He knew that she was in terror but too brave to murmur.
Unable to resist, he released the strap to which he had clung so grimly,
and placed his strong, firm hand encouragingly over the little one that
gripped his arm with the clutch of death. It was very dark and very
lonely, too!
"Oh!" she cried, as his hand clasped hers. "You must hold to the strap."
"It is broken!" he lied, gladly, "There is no danger. See! My hand does
not tremble, does it? Be calm! It cannot be much farther."
"Will it not be dreadful if the conductor refuses to stop?" she cried, her

hand resting calmly beneath its protector. He detected a tone of security
in her voice.
"But he will stop! Your uncle will see to that, even if the operator
fails."
"My uncle will kill him if he does not stop or come back for me," she
said, complacently.
"I was mot wrong," thought Grenfall; "he looks like a duelist. Who the
devil are they, anyhow?" Then aloud: "At this rate we'd be able to beat
the train to Washington in a straight-away race. Isn't it a delightfully
wild ride?"
"I have acquired a great deal of knowledge in America, but this is the
first time I have heard your definition of delight. I agree that it is wild."
For some moments there was silence in the noisy conveyance. Outside,
the crack of the driver's whip, his hoarse cries, and the nerve-destroying
crash of the wheels produced impressions of a mighty storm rather than
of peace and pleasure.
"I am curious to know where you obtained the coin you lost in the car
yesterday," she said at last, as if relieving her mind of a question that
had been long subdued.
"The one you so kindly found for me?" he asked, procrastinatingly.
"Yes. They are certainly rare in this country."
"I never saw a coin like it until after I had seen you," he confessed. He
felt her arm press his a, little tighter, and there was a quick movement
of her head which told him, dark as it was, that she was trying to see his
face and that her blue eyes were wide with something more than terror.
"I do not understand," she exclaimed.
"I obtained the coin from a sleeping-car porter who said some one gave
it to him and told him to have a 'high time' with it," he explained in her

ear.
"He evidently did not care for the 'high time,'" she said, after a moment.
He would have given a fortune for one glimpse of her face at that
instant.
"I think he said it would be necessary to go to Europe in order to follow
the injunction of the donor. As I am more likely to go to Europe than he,
I relieved him of the necessity and bought his right to a 'high time.'"
There was a long pause, during which she attempted to withdraw
herself from his side, her little fingers struggling timidly beneath the
big ones.
"Are you a collector of coins?" she asked at length, a perceptible
coldness in her voice.
"No. I am considered a dispenser of coins. Still, I rather like the idea of
possessing this queer bit of