The horses, in fact, needed very little guidance.  They went along the road very quietly of their own accord.  Marco kept wishing that a wagon or something else would come along, that he might have the satisfaction of turning out.  But nothing of the kind appeared, and he was obliged to content himself with turning a little to one side, to avoid a stone.  At the end of the level piece of road there was a tavern, where they were going to stop to change the horses, and Marco asked the driver to let him turn the horses up to the door.  The driver consented, keeping a close watch all the time, ready to seize the reins again at a moment’s notice, if there had been any appearance of difficulty.  But there was none.  Marco guided the horses right, and drawing in the reins with all his strength, he brought them up properly at the door; or rather, he seemed to do it,—­for, in reality, the horses probably acted as much of their own accord, being accustomed to stop at this place, as from any control which Marco exercised over them through the reins.

There was, however, an advantage in this evolution, for Marco became accustomed to the feeling of the reins in his hand, and acquired a sort of confidence in his power over the horses,—­greater to be sure than there was any just ground for, but which was turned to a very important account, a few hours afterward, as will be seen in the sequel.

The sailor went several times into the taverns on the way, in the course of the afternoon, to drink, until, at length, he became partially intoxicated.  He felt, however, so much restrained in the presence of the passengers within the coach, that he did not become talkative and noisy, as is frequently the case in such circumstances; but was rather stupid and sleepy.  In fact, no one observed that any change was taking place in his condition, until, at last, as he was coming out from the door of a tavern, where he had been in to get another drink, the driver said,

“Come, Jack, you must get up with me now, there is another passenger to get in here.”

Marco, who was still in his seat, holding the reins of the horses, looked down, expecting that the sailor would make objections to this proposal,—­but he found, on the contrary, that Jack, as they called him, acquiesced without making any difficulty, and allowed the driver to help him up.  The new passenger got inside.  Forester felt somewhat uneasy at having Marco ride any longer on the top, especially now that the sailor was going up too.  But the coach was full.  He himself was wedged into his seat, so that he could not get out easily.  He knew, too, that two or three of the passengers were going to get out at the next stage, and so he concluded to let Marco remain outside until that time, and then to take him in again.

Marco’s admiration for the sailor was very much diminished when he saw how helpless he had rendered himself by his excesses, and how unceremoniously the driver pulled and hauled him about, in getting him into his seat.