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 …showed first 75 words of 1099 total…

…showed last 75 words of 1099 total…The fog lifting, they can see the light of the soon to rise sun, though day is still hours a way. London is not far, they have completed their journey. The driver slows the horses to a gallop. The Rifleman sinks back in the bench, spent. The game is over. The passengers begin cheering that they have not been killed, and that they have reached London unhurt. Relieved and exhausted, they collapse on their benches.