But he awoke from it--a man! "Do you," he asked, in a voice he scarcely recognized himself,--"do you want this man inside ?" "No!" Cass caught at Hornsby's wrist like a young tiger.

But alas! what availed instinctive chivalry against main strength?
He only succeeded in forcing the door open in spite of Miss Porter's superior strategy, and--I fear I must add, muscle also--and threw himself passionately at Hornsby's throat, where he hung on and calmly awaited dissolution.

But he had, in the onset, driven Hornsby out into the road and the moonlight.
"Here! somebody take my lines." The voice was "Mountain Charley's," the driver.

The figure that jumped from the box and separated the struggling men belonged to this singularly direct person.
"You're riding inside ?" said Charley, interrogatively, to Cass.

Before he could reply Miss Porter's voice came from the window: "He is!" Charley promptly bundled Cass into the coach.
"And _you_ ?" to Hornsby, "onless you're kalkilatin' to take a little 'pasear' you're booked _outside_.