Bo sustained a sharp rap on the head.
"Oooooo!" she moaned.

"Nell Rayner, I'll never forgive you for fetching me on this awful trip." "Just think of your handsome Las Vegas cowboy," replied Helen.
Either this remark subdued Bo or the suggestion sufficed to reconcile her to the hardships of the ride.
Meanwhile, as they talked and maintained silence and tried to sleep, the driver of the stage kept at his task after the manner of Western men who knew how to get the best out of horses and bad roads and distance.
By and by the stage halted again and remained at a standstill for so long, with the men whispering on top, that Helen and Bo were roused to apprehension.
Suddenly a sharp whistle came from the darkness ahead.
"Thet's Roy," said Joe Beeman, in a low voice.
"I reckon.

An' meetin' us so quick looks bad," replied Dale.

"Drive on, Bill." "Mebbe it seems quick to you," muttered the driver, "but if we hain't come thirty mile, an' if thet ridge thar hain't your turnin'-off place, why, I don't know nothin'." The stage rolled on a little farther, while Helen and Bo sat clasping each other tight, wondering with bated breath what was to be the next thing to happen.
Then once more they were at a standstill.

Helen heard the thud of boots striking the ground, and the snorts of horses.
"Nell, I see horses," whispered Bo, excitedly.