Read it through once

At Marysville, Sam and I left the steamer to proceed by railroad to Nevada, and then by stage to Carson City. The stage was a typical specimen of the Western road-coach; it was made of roughly-hewn lumber, with iron tires on the wheels, and was suspended upon leather straps. It was drawn by four mules, and the coachman was a stalwart fellow who might have been taken for a white-armed mastiff; he drove with a naval freedom that looked as if it belonged to a man who had been accustomed to rule a deck.