CHAPTER XXV.

Melville makes A sensation.

Col.  Warner seemed in very good spirits.  He ate and drank with violent enjoyment, and was as affable as usual.  George Melville regarded him with curiosity.

“The man does not appear like a desperado or outlaw,” he thought.  “There is nothing to distinguish him from the majority of men one meets in ordinary intercourse.  He is a problem to me, I should like to study him.”

Col.  Warner did not fail to observe the unconscious intentness with which Melville regarded him, and, for some reason, it did not please him.

“You have lost your appetite, Mr. Melville,” he said, lightly.  “You have been looking at me until—­egad!—­if I were a vain man, I should conclude there was something striking about my appearance.”

“I won’t gainsay that, Colonel,” answered Melville, adroitly.  “I confess I am not very hungry, and I will further confess that I have something on my mind.”

“Indeed!  Better make me your father confessor,” said the colonel, whose suspicion or annoyance was removed by this ready reply.

“So I may, after a while,” said Melville.

He took the hint, and ceased to regard the colonel.

The latter made himself generally social, and generally popular.

The stage drove round to the door after breakfast, and there was the usual bustle, as the passengers bestowed themselves inside.

George Melville had intended to watch narrowly the landlord and Col.  Warner, to detect, if possible, the secret understanding which must exist between them.  But he was deprived of an opportunity, for the very good reason that the landlord had disappeared, and was not again seen before their departure.

The driver gathered up his reins, cracked his whip, and the stage started.  Herbert looked at George Melville a little anxiously, not knowing what course he had decided to take.  They two, it will be remembered, were the only ones who knew of the intended attack.

Before the stage started, Melville quietly took the opportunity to hand his pocketbook to Herbert, saying, briefly:  “It will be safer with you in case of an attack.”

“But won’t it be considered suspicious that you have no money about you?” suggested Herbert.

“I have a roll of bills in my pocket-fifty dollars,” answered Melville.

They had no further opportunity of speaking, as one of the passengers came up where they were standing.

Herbert had already taken his seat in the coach, when his employer said:  “Herbert, wouldn’t you like to ride outside with the driver?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Herbert, promptly, for he understood, that this was Mr. Melville’s wish.

“It will give us more room, and you will have a better view.”

“Yes, sir; I shall like it.”

In a quick manner Herbert made the change, taking care not to look significantly at Melville, as some boys might have done, and thus excited suspicion.