“I suppose this man has committed many robberies?” said the teacher to the stage-driver.
“No one knows how many, but he has robbed my stage four times.”
“How did it happen that you did not recognize him when he booked as a passenger?”
“He has always worn a mask when I saw him before. This time he became bolder, and presented himself without disguise. I remember being struck by his appearance, and wondering whether I had not met him before, but it did not occur to me that it was the famous road agent, Stephen Dike.”
The passengers took the lifeless body, and drew it to one side of the road.
“Ought we not to bury it?” asked the teacher.
“I can’t bear to put beneath the sod a man who, but fifteen minutes since, was as full of life as we are. Let us leave that office to some one else. We can affix to the tree, beneath which he lies, a paper giving his name.”
This proposal was approved. One of the passengers produced a sheet of paper and a travelling inkstand, and this placard was affixed to the trunk of the tree:
This man is _STEPHEN DIKE_, THE ROAD AGENT. Killed while attempting to rob the Sacramento coach.
“We ought, perhaps, to examine his pockets, and see if we can find anything to throw light on his career.”
This was the suggestion of one of the passengers.
“No,” said the miner; “leave that to the persons who may find him. If he has money about him, leave it to others. I have been the instrument of Heaven’s retribution. Should I take anything of value from him, I would be degraded to his own level.”
This remark seemed to voice the general sentiment, and, after an interval of only ten minutes, the stage was again on its way to San Francisco.
Grant and Robert were strongly impressed by what had happened. Neither of them had ever seen a death by violence before.
“But he deserved his fate,” returned Grant.
“So he did; but it is terrible to have death come so suddenly.”
“You are right, lad!” said the miner. “I feel entirely justified in what I did, but it was a fearful necessity. It is something I shall never be able to forget.”
There was no further adventure to record in the two days’ ride. Toward nightfall of the second day they reached the city of the Golden Gate, and the passengers separated. Grant regretted parting with Robert Campbell, to whom he had become warmly attached, but was glad to think they would have opportunities of meeting in San Francisco.