Of the King’s Treasure
“They’re coming,” he says, and whipped out his pistols with glee. Sure enough, I could hear far away a rumbling noise, borne down on the wind, which blew sharply from the north-west. “I’ll reckon to take two on the first clash,” says he boastfully.
“Stand by there,” says I brusquely, “and keep your bragging tongue quiet. What would you be up to?”
“Why,” says Zacchary, “shan’t we march up and cock our pistols at ’em?”
“Yes,” says I, “and a shot in the stomach for us all! You fall back, Zacchary Mills, and leave these appointments to me. D’ye think they will pull up for the likes of your pretty face?”
“What shall we do, then?” he asked anxiously.
“You best just follow me,” I answered, “and no word or stroke till I give the signal.”
And a little after that the coach drew into sight away at the bend of the road. Whereupon I wheeled round and, with Dan on my left and Zacchary clinging close to my right,
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