With fresh mounts under us, we soon covered the intervening distance between the two ranches.  I would gladly have waived touching at the McLeod ranch, but Esther had torn her dress during the day and insisted on a change, and I, of necessity, yielded.  The corrals were at some distance from the main buildings, and, halting at a saddle shed adjoining, Esther left me and entered the house.  Fortunately her mother had retired, and after making a hasty change of apparel, she returned unobserved to the corrals.  As we quietly rode out from the inclosure, my spirits soared to the moon above us.  The night was an ideal one.  Crossing the Frio, we followed the divide some distance, keeping in the open, and an hour before midnight forded the Nueces at Shepherd’s.  A flood of recollections crossed my mind, as our steaming horses bent their heads to drink at the ferry.  Less than a year before, in this very grove, I had met her; it was but two months since, on those hills beyond, we had gathered flowers, plighted our troth, and exchanged our first rapturous kiss.  And the thought that she was renouncing home and all for my sake, softened my heart and nerved me to every exertion.

Our intention was to intercept the south-bound stage at the first road house south of Oakville.  I knew the hour it was due to leave the station, and by steady riding we could connect with it at the first stage stand some fifteen miles below.  Lighthearted and happy, we set out on this last lap of our ride.  Our horses seemed to understand the emergency, as they put the miles behind them, thrilling us with their energy and vigor.  Never for a moment in our flight did my sweetheart discover a single qualm over her decision, while in my case all scruples were buried in the hope of victory.  Recrossing the Nueces and entering the stage road, we followed it down several miles, sighting the stage stand about two o’clock in the morning.  I was saddle weary from the hunt, together with this fifty-mile ride, and rejoiced in reaching our temporary destination.  Esther, however, seemed little the worse for the long ride.

The welcome extended by the keeper of this relay station was gruff enough.  But his tone and manner moderated when he learned we were passengers for Corpus Christi.  When I made arrangements with him to look after our horses for a week or ten days at a handsome figure, he became amiable, invited us to a cup of coffee, and politely informed us that the stage was due in half an hour.  But on its arrival, promptly on time, our hearts sank within us.  On the driver’s box sat an express guard holding across his knees a sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun.  As it halted, two other guards stepped out of the coach, similarly armed.  The stage was carrying an unusual amount of treasure, we were informed, and no passengers could be accepted, as an attempted robbery was expected between this and the next station.