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Show THE STAGE RIDE. 193 Seeing our party returning, we concluded to wait for them. Hal. said we were like Bunyan's Formality and Hypocrisy. We had only pretended to climb the hill. They had been to the summit, and had a glorious view of the "Delectable Mountains." CHAPTER XLIII. THE STAGE RIDE. Now arose a debate whether we should go to Leadville by way of Como or Frisco. We were informed that the coach left for Frisco every morning, and the road was level and smooth, through the prettiest valley that ever was seen. The stage ride-that decided me. Mr. Rough, a walking embodiment of common sense, and the "brake and balance wheel" of the party, gave us the advice that Punch gives to people about to get married, "don't." But he might as well have said " do," for we immediately engaged passage in the stage, and I commenced to plan for myself a seat with the driver; for drivers are said to be living, breathing, talking Encyclopaedias of Western lore. Promptly at the appointed hour the horn blew, and Hal. and I gathered our traps and were soon on the veranda of the hotel. But where was the coach? We anxiously looked about for one of those gaily decorated affairs, like the chariots in the circus, where the driver and some favored passenger sits on top, entirely oblivious of who or what is caged in the box below. We waited. At last a 13 |
