He had been there, too.
Jake had left with vengeance in his heart, and this was his opportunity.
He was just entering the stage head foremost, when the occupant of the coveted seat decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and announced that he would give up the seat, thereby saving Keith the necessity of intervening, which he was about to do.
The ejected tenant was so disgruntled that he got out of the stage, and, without taking any further notice of the occupants, called up to know if there was a seat outside.
"Yes.

Let me give you a hand," said Gordon, leaning down and helping him up.

"How are you ?" Wickersham looked at him quickly as he reached the boot.
"Hello! You here ?" The rest of his sentence was a malediction on the barbarians in the coach below and a general consignment of them all to a much warmer place than the boot of the Gumbolt stage.
"What are you doing here ?" Wickersham asked.
"I am driving the stage." "Regularly ?" There was something in the tone and look that made Keith wish to say no, but he said doggedly: "I have done it regularly, and was glad to get the opportunity." He was conscious of a certain change in Wickersham's manner toward him.
As they drove along he asked Wickersham about Norman and his people, but the other answered rather curtly.
Norman had married.
"Yes." Keith had heard that.

"He married Miss Caldwell, didn't he?
She was a very pretty girl." "What do you know about here ?" Wickersham asked.

His tone struck Keith.
"Oh, I met her once.