Turning to his fair neighbor with a smile of uncouth but good-humored apology, he said in explanation:-- "You'll excuse me, miss! I don't know ezactly how YOU'RE feelin',--for judging from your looks and gin'ral gait, you're a stranger in these parts,--but ez for ME, I don't mind sayin' that I never feel ezactly safe from these yer road agents and stage robbers ontil arter we pass Skinner's station.

All along thet Galloper's Ridge it's jest tech and go like; the woods is swarmin' with 'em.

But once past Skinner's, you're all right.

They never dare go below that.

So ef you don't mind, miss, for it's bein' in your presence, I'll jest pull off my butes and ease my feet for a spell." Neither the inconsequence of this singular request, nor the smile it evoked on the faces of the other passengers, seemed to disturb the lady's abstraction.