Snow-Bound at Eagles | Page 3

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This etext was prepared by Donald Lainson, [email protected].

SNOW-BOUND AT EAGLE'S
by Bret Harte

SNOW-BOUND AT EAGLE'S

CHAPTER I
For some moments profound silence and darkness had accompanied a
Sierran stage-coach towards the summit. The huge, dim bulk of the
vehicle, swaying noiselessly on its straps, glided onward and upward as
if obeying some mysterious impulse from behind, so faint and
indefinite appeared its relation to the viewless and silent horses ahead.
The shadowy trunks of tall trees that seemed to approach the coach
windows, look in, and then move hurriedly away, were the only
distinguishable objects. Yet even these were so vague and unreal that
they might have been the mere phantoms of some dream of the
half-sleeping passengers; for the thickly-strewn needles of the pine, that
choked the way and deadened all sound, yielded under the
silently-crushing wheels a faint soporific odor that seemed to benumb
their senses, already slipping back into unconsciousness during the long
ascent. Suddenly the stage stopped.

Three of the four passengers inside struggled at once into upright
wakefulness. The fourth passenger, John Hale, had not been sleeping,
and turned impatiently towards the window. It seemed to him that two
of the moving trees had suddenly become motionless outside. One of
them moved again, and the door opened quickly but quietly, as of itself.
"Git down," said a voice in the darkness.
All the passengers except Hale started. The man next to him moved his
right hand suddenly behind him, but as quickly stopped. One of the
motionless trees had apparently closed upon the vehicle, and what had
seemed to be a bough projecting from it at right angles changed slowly
into the faintly shining double-barrels of a gun at the window.
"Drop that!" said the voice.
The man who had moved uttered a short laugh, and returned his hand
empty to his knees. The two others perceptibly shrugged their
shoulders as over a game that was lost. The remaining passenger, John
Hale, fearless by nature, inexperienced by habit, awaking suddenly to
the truth, conceived desperate resistance. But without his making a
gesture this was instinctively felt by the others; the muzzle of the gun
turned spontaneously on him, and he was vaguely conscious of a
certain contempt and impatience of him in his companions.
"Git down," repeated the voice imperatively.
The three passengers descended. Hale, furious, alert, but helpless of
any opportunity, followed. He was surprised to find the stage- driver
and express messenger standing beside him; he had not heard them
dismount. He instinctively looked towards the horses. He could see
nothing.
"Hold up your hands!"
One of the passengers had already lifted his, in a weary, perfunctory
way. The others did the same reluctantly and awkwardly, but
apparently more from the consciousness of the ludicrousness of their

attitude than from any sense of danger. The rays of a bull's-eye lantern,
deftly managed by invisible hands, while it left the intruders in shadow,
completely illuminated the faces and figures of the passengers. In spite
of the majestic obscurity and silence of surrounding nature, the group
of humanity thus illuminated was more farcical than dramatic. A scrap
of newspaper, part of a sandwich, and an orange peel that had fallen
from the floor of the coach, brought into equal prominence by the
searching light, completed the absurdity.
"There's a man here with a package of greenbacks," said the voice, with
an official coolness that lent a certain suggestion of Custom House
inspection to the transaction; "who is it?" The passengers looked at
each other, and their glance finally settled on Hale.
"It's not HIM," continued the voice, with a slight tinge of contempt on
the emphasis. "You'll save time and searching, gentlemen, if you'll tote
it out. If we've got to go through every one of you we'll try to make it
pay."
The significant threat was not unheeded. The passenger who had first
moved when the stage stopped put his hand to his breast.
"T'other pocket first, if you please," said the voice.
The man laughed, drew a pistol from his hip pocket, and, under the
strong