The Highwayman

Their journey to London was not a long one, but in the night, it was a

treacherous one. A rolling fog covered the land, one couldn't see twenty feet

ahead, but in the still, quiet night, sound carried for a mile. They began

their trek in the early evening, the sun had yet to dip below the horizon. The

passengers needed in London, could not wait for the next morning. The stage

driver was the best to be found, his fee large, but his experience was priceless.

He was accompanied by another man with a large rifle. The Rifleman had keen

eyes and his ears were at attention, listening over the horses for oncoming

riders; for the Highwaymen who prayed on the stages.

Long after the sun had set, not a sound had been heard over the consistent clip-

clop of the horses. Their hooves hit the dirt road, broadcasting a message for

nearly a mile of the nearing prey. The sound alerting all the nearby predators

to keep a good watch, to be ready, for the prize will soon be in their grasp.

The fog, like a blanket spreading it self out on the land, concealed all stars,

the only light was from a lantern suspended above the stage driver. The

passengers nervous, expecting to hear shots fired. The jumped at every bump in

the road that the wheels struck. Clutching their baggage close, they prayed

that the night would pass quickly.

The Highwayman, alerted to the approaching stage, was hidden by the road, and

concealed by the fog, he was not yet able to discern the light from the quickly

approaching lantern. Clutching his pistol, his only weapon, he planned to take

all the that he desired from the stage. His family was at home, sitting by the

fire. His late night occupation provided their home, food and clothing. During

the day he works in a stable for the nearby English noble. Feeding and grooming

their horses, only he knows the stable well enough to "barrow " a horse. Not

every night, but often enough for his family to live better than most.

Passing through a small wooded area, the stage continued at its rapid pace, the

horses sweating, pulling the large stage coach and its five passengers. The

Rifleman, ever intent, tenses, telling the driver to push the animals even

harder. The two horses, running as fast as they can, try to comply, but they

gain no speed. The passengers, jumping at every bump in the road, wishing the

ride over, holding fast to the coach, expecting any minute for the stage to roll