Two stage coaches were drawn up, one behind the other, in the little village of Freeland. Both were the familiar Concord type, but there the resemblance ended. One was new and bore the insignia of the Brewers stage coach line, the other, owned by young Bill Paulson was old and dilapidated, the last of its paint had been worn off years before. Bill stood in the street beside the other coach and shook his fist at the grinning driver...