They don't drive her for her beauty, that's evident." "She's fast and she's knowing," grumbled the coachman.

"Reason enough for overlooking her spots.

Who's that man ?" he grunted, with a drop of his lantern jaws, and a slight gesture towards the unknown interloper.
"Another of us," replied Hexford, with a shrug.

"We're both rather interested in this horse." "Wouldn't another time do ?" pleaded the coachman, looking gravely down at the flowers he held.

"It's most time for the funeral and I don't feel like talking, indeed I don't, gentlemen." "We won't keep you." It was Sweetwater who spoke.