There had been considerable talk about a rascal who had robbed right and
left, so that I was not feeling very good.
[Illustration]
Besides, I didn't like the looks of that driver, for if ever an
evil-browed mountaineer had taken to coaching, he was the man.
He kept looking back at me every little while, and somehow I got the
notion into my head that he was figuring whether it would pay to make
way with me.
There was an awful lonely stretch of woods between Athens and Saulsboro,
and when we struck it I tell you a cold chill pranced up and down my
spinal column, for it was just an ideal spot for murder.
Suddenly the driver drew in his horses.
My knees began to knock together, and my teeth rattled just like those
Turkish castanets you've seen dancers use.
The worst had come, and this black-browed villain was about to finish me
then and there.