CHAPTER VI
THE SECRET MINE
Whether the young postmistress, or the two strange men, was the more surprised could not be told. Both Jennie and her annoyers started at the sudden appearance of the young pony rider. Then looks of anger and annoyance came over the faces of the two men, while Jennie appeared relieved.
"What's the trouble?" asked Jack, and with a seemingly careless motion he threw open his coat. In his belt was a revolver, which he carried more because the regulations compelled him to than because he really thought he would ever need it.
"Trouble? There's no trouble," said one of the men in surly tones. "Who are you, anyhow, to come butting in?"
"Oh, Jack!" exclaimed Jennie. "They want—"
"I'm the pony express rider on this route," interrupted Jack, with a nod at
Jennie, as if to beg her pardon for not letting her finish. "I just came in
with the mail. It's outside, but I thought I heard some trouble in here, so
I just jumped in—just in time, perhaps, too," he added, significantly.
"If you're looking for trouble," began one of the men, "I guess we can accommodate you."
"That's enough," his companion said. "Come on out. Don't you know when to quit?"
"Oh, Jack, they were so annoying!" cried Jennie. "They came in here when I was all alone, and insisted on knowing the times when all the mails and express shipments went out and came in. I said I wasn't supposed to tell strangers that unless there was a particular reason why they should know. Ought I to have told them? They said if I didn't they would make trouble for me."
"They'd better try it!" Jack exclaimed, with flashing eyes. "Now, look here, you fellows!" he went on. "I don't know who you are, nor what your game is, but you'd better get out of here. This is government property, and I'm a government employee for the time being, and I've got authority to order you out of here. Now, you—get!"
For a moment one of the men hesitated, though the other seemed anxious to leave. Jack threw open the door, and pointed in the direction of the trail outside.
"Get out!" he exclaimed again, "and if you think I'm not big enough to handle you I can get help. Tim!" he called, as he saw the doughty red-haired youth who helped Jennie, "just come in here, will you?"
"Why sure I will, Jack," was the answer, Tim having just loomed into sight.
"I didn't know you were here. Is there mail to carry out?"
"Well, there are a couple of males who need putting out, if not carrying out," said Jack, smiling grimly at his play upon the words.
"Come on!" muttered the more conciliatory of the two intruders, and with black looks at Jack and Jennie, the two men left the post office.
"Were those the men?" asked Tim, coming in as the two went off down the rail.
"Yes," said Jack. "But they saved us the trouble of carrying them out. Now,
Jennie, what was it all about?"
For a moment the girl seemed on the verge of tears, and Jack found himself earnestly hoping that she would not have hysterics. But she bravely conquered her inclination.
"Oh, Jack! I'm so glad you came!" she exclaimed, as she held out both her hands, which the young pony rider clasped warmly.
"I guess this is no place for me!" muttered Tim, with a sly wink.
"Oh, yes, Tim, stay!" Jennie begged. "I'll tell you about it, too. You'll want to know in case these men ever come back."
"If they do!" exclaimed Jack, doubling up his fists, "I'll—"
"Oh, please don't fight with them!" pleaded Jennie. "Just let the sheriff deal with them, Jack."
"Well, if I can't manage them myself, I'll call for help," promised the youth. "But now tell me about it. Who were they?"
"I don't know, Jack. They are strangers around here. I was working all alone in the office, getting my reports into shape, and was just going to check up my stamps, when they came in. I had left the private door open, as I didn't expect any one. Mother is away for the day, but I didn't in the least mind being left, as I had a lot of work to do.
"Well, these men began asking all sorts of questions. I don't mind giving information to strangers if it's the kind I can safely let out of the office, but they wanted to know too much. Why, they even asked about you!"
"They did? Why, they didn't seem to know me just now!"
"Perhaps they didn't by sight, but they knew your name, and they asked me how often you made the trips, where you stopped, how long it took, and they even wanted to know what kind of a horse you rode.
"I simply refused to tell them, and then they began to threaten and bluster. I was beginning to get frightened, but I made up my mind I wouldn't give in to them. And then—well, you came along, and I guess I never was so glad to see you, Jack! But, of course, they really did me no harm. How did it happen that you got here ahead of time?"
"Oh, I just hurried, that was all," Jack answered. He did not want to tell Jennie what he had overheard on the road. It might make her nervous, as she might think there was some plot afoot to rob the post office.
"And there is something in the wind, or I'm mistaken," mused Jack, "though what it is I can't guess. I'm going to be on the watch harder than ever. The plot is beginning to thicken, as they say in stories," and he made a mental picture of the two men.
The stage coach came in a little later, and Jack received a number of parcels for transmission to Rainbow Ridge. As he was ahead of time, and as there was some mail of importance, Jack resolved to make an immediate trip back, though he would not arrive at the other end of the trail until after dark.
"Oh, Jack! Do you think it will be safe?" Jennie asked.
"What safe?" he asked, with a smile. "The mail?"
"No—you!"
"Why shouldn't I be safe? I've ridden the trail before after dark."
"I know. But those—those men—"
"Nonsense! I'm not afraid."
Nevertheless, Jack was a little nervous as he galloped along the mountain path after night had fallen. He started at every little noise, for while there had been no robberies of the mail for some time, still such things were known to happen occasionally.
But the two strangers who had annoyed Jennie were not seen around town after the episode, and Jack did not think they were desperate enough to try to hold him up. Besides, while there were some letters and parcels of importance, there was not enough of value in the pouches this trip to make it an inducement for robbery.
"They wouldn't take the risk for what I've got with me," reasoned Jack. And he was right. At least there was no attack on him, and he reached Rainbow Ridge safely and delivered his stuff.
Mr. Bailey was not quite so well next day, and Jack was worried about him. But Dr. Brown said the ailment, which was a form of intermittent fever, might often take a turn like that. Jack said nothing to his father about the two men who had annoyed his cousin, but he did report the occurrence to Mr. Perkfeld, who promised to have an investigation made.
But nothing was heard of the men, nor could any trace of them be found, after a somewhat limited search was made.
"I guess they were just fresh tenderfeet," said the manager of the pony express company.
Jack, however, did not altogether share this view.
It was about a week after this that, as Jack reached the Mansion Hotel one morning to receive the mail, he was approached by Mr. Argent, who had a number of red-sealed letters in his hand.
"This time I'm really going to let you take them, Jack," he said. "My friend Wayde thinks it's all right to forward them to their destination now."
"Are they as important as ever?" asked Jack, with a smile.
"Yes, and more so, Jack. I'll just give you a hint," the miner said, in a low voice. "Wayde and I have discovered a secret mine, and if things go right it may mean a big thing for us."
"A secret mine?" questioned the young pony express rider.
"Yes. It was one located by a prospector some years ago, but he died after he came into town with some mighty rich nuggets. He gave the location of the mine to a friend, but the latter lost the papers and never could find the claim. Lately a relative discovered the documents in an old coat pocket, and sent them to me, suggesting that we work the claim on shares.
"I went into it with Wayde, and we've found the mine. It's rich, too, and it isn't far from here. But there are certain legal forms to comply with before we can actually begin work, and these letters refer to those matters. The reason Wayde didn't want to send them the other time was because he feared a counter legal move on the part of some men who are trying to locate the mine and get it away from those entitled to it But now matters are about straightened out, and I'm going to send off these letters by you. I'll expect answers back soon, and when they come—"
Mr. Argent paused suddenly, for a sound came from around the corner of the porch where he and Jack had been standing during their talk. The miner suddenly turned the corner of the hotel, with Jack following. They saw a man walking rapidly away along the other part of the porch.
CHAPTER VII
THE STRANGERS AGAIN
"Was he listening?" asked Jack of the miner.
"It rather looks so," was the answer. "I thought I heard some one moving about there as I was talking to you, and I wanted to make sure."
"Well, you did all right," replied Jack, grimly. "Do you know who he is?"
"No, but—"
"Say! Wait a minute!" suddenly exclaimed Jack. He had but a glimpse of the man's back, but there seemed to be something familiar about the manner in which the man walked off. Like a flash it came to Jack.
"I think I know him—at least I've seen him before," he said hurriedly to
Mr. Argent. "I'm going to find out for sure."
In a flash Jack had sprung over the porch railing, and was rapidly running alongside the porch on the soft grass. He did this in order to get ahead of the retreating man. Had he remained on the porch Jack's footfalls on the boards would have given the alarm.
As it was, he was able to get ahead of the eavesdropper, and obtain a view of his face. And Jack was not mistaken in his surmise. It was one of the two men who had annoyed Jennie in the post office. The fellow seemed startled on confronting our hero.
"So you're here now, eh?" asked Jack.
"Well, is that any of your business?" was the challenge. "Isn't this a free country?"
"Of course," Jack answered. "But even in a free country there are certain laws about causing trouble, and listening to private talk."
"Who was listening?" demanded the fellow.
"You were!" Jack exclaimed.
At that moment Mr. Argent came sauntering along the piazza. The fellow turned sharply. Neither appeared to recognize the other.
"This chap is the same one I thought he was," explained Jack, "It was he and a partner of his who made the fuss in the Golden Crossing office, Mr. Argent. If you could find Mr. Perkfeld we might make a charge against him."
The man seemed disconcerted at this.
"Charge? What charge?" he blustered.
"You'll find out soon enough," Jack replied.
He started off, thinking Mr. Argent would keep the man there until Mr. Perkfeld could be summoned. But the fellow made a sudden dash, leaped to the saddle of a horse that was near the end of the porch, and was off down the road on a gallop.
As he rode off he was joined by another man, who also made a hurried exit from the hotel and leaped to the back of his horse. But he was not so quick but what Jack recognized him as the other man who had annoyed the young postmistress of Golden Crossing.
"Well, they got away!" Jack said, regretfully, as he came back to Mr.
Argent.
"Perhaps it's just as well," answered the miner. "I don't know that you could have really held them on the charge of being impudent and rough to Miss Blake, and you tell me that is all they did."
"Yes, that's so. But what about one of them listening to what you were telling me about the secret mine."
"Oh, bless you, that doesn't worry me!" said Mr. Argent, with a laugh. "I'll defy anybody to find that mine without the proper directions, and I don't intend to tell even you those, Jack—at least not yet. I really didn't let out any information of any account, and what that chap overheard, if he heard anything, won't do him any good. I'm not worrying, but, of course, I don't like to have strangers sneak up and listen to what I say. But no great harm has been done."
"I'm glad of it. And perhaps it's just as well we didn't have them arrested. It would make it unpleasant for Jennie to be brought into court."
"That's right, Jack. Well, the fellows got away, so we won't worry about them. Now take these letters, and I needn't tell you to be careful of them."
"I sure will look out for them," Jack promised, earnestly.
"And just mention them to your cousin at the other end of the line," went on the miner. "Have her use a little extra care."
"I'll tell her," promised Jack.
"Another matter," went on the miner, and this time he lowered his voice to a whisper as if afraid of being overheard. "These letters aren't so important as their answers will be."
"What do you mean?" asked Jack.
"I mean that we expect some legal documents by mail, after these letters have reached those for whom they are intended," answered the miner. "The replies will be very important, and I wouldn't want them to fall into the hands of those who are trying to get the property away from us.
"So if you'll just mention to your cousin to bear in mind when any letters like these come for me that they're important, and if you'll remember that yourself, Jack, why, we'll be much obliged to you."
"I sure will be on the watch," promised Jack. "They'll be registered, of course."
"Oh sure! But I don't imagine anything will happen to them. For no one can know exactly when they will come. Only be on the watch for them."
"I certainly will! Now if you'll give me those I'll put them in a safe place."
Mr. Argent handed over the missives, and Jack put them in his inside pocket, and then used a safety pin to close the opening.
"Safety first!" he exclaimed with a laugh.
"That's right," assented the miner.
As Jack rode off on the back of his pony, which was becoming quite famous because of his speed and the regularity with which he made the trips, the young express rider thought of the two strangers who had suddenly reappeared after having annoyed Jennie.
"I just wonder who they are, and what their game is," he reflected. "After all, maybe it would have been a good thing if we had caught them. I guess Jennie would be game enough to go to court and testify. But I don't know on just what charge we could have held them."
"Anyhow, we haven't got 'em, so perhaps it's all for the best. But I sure will be on the watch for them again. And I'll have to be on the lookout for the replies to these letters. Well, it's all in the game," Jack reflected. "Dad probably has gone through the same, and worse, maybe, and he never backed down. I've got to keep up his reputation, if I'm doing his work. It would be fine, too, if I could find some way of proving that he wasn't at fault in that Harrington matter. But I suppose that's too much to expect."
Thus reflecting, Jack rode on.
CHAPTER VIII
A NIGHT ATTACK
Naturally, after the little experience of the morning, having received the sealed letters, and having again seen the two men who had acted so roughly toward Jennie, Jack was a little apprehensive as he rode along the trail toward Golden Crossing. There were several places very favorable for holding up a stage coach, had one used the mountain road, but, as has been said, the route was too difficult for a vehicle to traverse.
"Though they might hold me up, more easily than they could a coach if they wanted to," reflected Jack. Consequently he approached all suspicious places with more than his usual caution.
But as he covered mile after mile and nothing happened, he became easier in his mind.
"I guess they aren't going to have a try for us, after all, Sunger," he said to his faithful pony. The plucky creature whinnied in answer, as Jack patted his neck.
"It wouldn't do 'em much good to make us stand and deliver," mused the young express rider. "For Mr. Argent said these letters weren't of prime importance. Still, I wouldn't like to have them taken away from me, or lose them, and get a bad reputation in this business. I don't want to lose my job just now, when dad is laid up."
Jack had feared that the two strangers who had fled in such a hurry from the hotel in Rainbow Ridge, might at least try to annoy him on the road, as they had taken the trail leading up the mountain to Golden Crossing.
But nothing like this happened, and in due time Jack arrived at the other post office and was greeted by Jennie. Jack gave Jennie the message about Mr. Argent's letters, but said nothing to her about having again seen the two men who had annoyed her.
"It would only worry her," he reflected, "and she has worries enough without my adding to them."
Jack remained that night in Golden Crossing, spending a pleasant evening with Aunt Matilda and Jennie. He was off early the next morning for the ride to Rainbow Ridge. Having delivered the mail, and before going to see his father, Jack made some inquiries around the Mansion Hotel about the two strangers who had left so suddenly.
No one knew much about them, except that they had ridden in early the previous morning, and had eaten a hasty breakfast It had been observed that they kept well to themselves, and conversed in low tones.
Then had come the episode of the listening on the part of one, and the flight of both of them. That was really all Jack could learn.
"And as long as you didn't see anything of them on the road," said Mr.
Argent, "I guess you needn't worry. You got my letters off all right?"
"Oh yes."
"Well, now the next thing will be the replies. Watch out for them."
And Jack said he would.
The young pony express rider had a few hours' spare time that day, and he spent them with his father. Mr. Bailey was discouraged at the progress he was making.
"I don't seem to get at all better, Jack," he complained.
"Well, Dad, it takes time, Dr. Brown says," his son observed.
"I know. But it seems as if I ought to get stronger. I want to be back at work."
"Oh, don't worry about that, Dad! I'm on the job, you know. I may not be doing as well as you, but I'm taking the mail and express stuff back and forth, and I haven't heard any complaints yet."
"Then you haven't lost anything, Jack, and nothing has been taken from you?"
"No, Dad. Not a thing."
"And the contents of no important letters have leaked out?"
"Not yet. But I know what you're thinking of, Dad. It's about that
Harrington letter."
"Yes, Jack, I am. I wish I could prove that it wasn't my fault."
"Don't worry, Dad! Your friends know it wasn't your fault, and some day we may be able to prove to your enemies that it wasn't."
"I hope so, Jack, but I've about given up," was the weary answer.
Jack had carefully kept from his father all the little worries that had occurred since the change in the pony express business had been made. He had said nothing about the misplaced planks of the bridge, nor about the two strangers.
"What's the use of worrying dad?" reflected our hero. "He has troubles enough of his own. I'll keep mine to myself."
That afternoon, late, as Jack was waiting at the Golden Crossing post office for the mail, a messenger rode in to say that the stage would be delayed because of a slight accident.
"But the driver wants you to wait," the messenger told Jack, "as there are some important letters to go to Rainbow Ridge, and be forwarded from there on."
"All right, I'll wait," promised Jack.
"It will mean a night ride," suggested Jennie.
"I know it, but it can't be helped. It's part of the game. I'm not afraid."
But when Jack helped Jennie sort the mail a little later, and found among the letters and parcels some large envelopes addressed to Mr. Argent and sealed with red wax, a strange feeling came over him.
"Here are those answers," he thought. "These must be the important papers about the secret mine. And I've got to carry them through on a night ride. Well, I wish they hadn't come just at this time, but there's no help for it. I've got to take them through."
He paused for a moment, with the important letters in his hand.
"What are those?" asked Jennie.
"Oh just some stuff for our town," Jack answered, indifferently.
In a flash he had made up his mind not to tell his cousin of the value and importance of the mail that night. She would worry if she knew what he was carrying along the trail after dark.
And Jack had another plan. He realized that the enemies, or business rivals of Mr. Argent, (call them what you will) might know of the arrival of the documents.
"They may try to get them away from me," reflected Jack. "Now, I've' read somewhere that the best way to throw off suspicion is to make something important look unimportant. That's what I'm going to do."
There were a number of newspapers in the mail. While Jennie was out of the room a moment Jack opened one bundle of papers, folded the red-sealed letters up in one of the papers, put back the wrapper and tossed the package into the pouch he would carry over his saddle.
"There!" he thought. "That doesn't look like anything of value. If I am held up, the thieves will throw away the newspapers anyhow, and I can get them later. I think that's a pretty good scheme, myself."
An hour later Jack was on his way along the mountain trail. It was quite dark, for there was no moon. But Jack laughed and sang as he parted from Jennie. He pretended that his heart was light, though, truth to tell, he was a bit apprehensive.
"Maybe those fellows don't know that the letters have arrived, and, if they do, my newspaper stunt will fool 'em," he decided.
It was near the bridge where once he had so nearly had a serious accident that, as Jack was riding along, he heard a sudden command:
"Halt!"
"Go on, Sunger! Go on!" yelled Jack in his pony's ear, as he slapped the animal on the flank. Then Jack felt himself suddenly attacked, as some one rode up alongside him, and dealt him a blow on the head.
CHAPTER IX
IN BONDS
For a moment Jack was so overcome by dizziness and a faint, sick feeling, that he could do nothing. Everything seemed black before his eyes, a blackness not of night, but the blackness of a fainting fit.
The young express rider reeled in his saddle, but he kept his seat by a great effort. Then he fought back the growing faintness that was overcoming him.
"I mustn't give in! I mustn't give in!" he told himself fiercely, over and over again. "I mustn't give way! I won't! I've got to protect the valuable letters—the mail—the express."
Then, somehow, Jack's head cleared. He felt more able to hold himself back from that terrible black void. He straightened up in the saddle, and his vision was again normal.
In the darkness he could see several men, three at least, standing around him. These three were not mounted, though off to one side of the trail Jack could see several dark forms which he could make out to be horses. Then he saw, as he turned in his saddle, a man behind him on a big horse. This man held something in his hand, and Jack guessed it was this individual who had struck him. All four of the men wore masks.
"What—what does this mean?" faltered Jack, though he could pretty well guess.
"Huh! Don't you know?" was the question shot back at him. He tried to distinguish the voice, but could not. It was the mounted man who had spoken.
"A hold-up, eh?" asked Jack, his tones faltering in spite of his effort to make them steady. That this should come to him in spite of his watchfulness was a bitter thing. And a robbery, of all time, when the valuable papers and letters expected by Mr. Argent were in the mail pouches, too! There was also some valuable express matter. Jack gritted his teeth in anger. Then his hand moved toward the pocket where he carried his weapon.
"No you don't!" was the sudden and fierce exclamation of the man on the horse beside him, and with a quick motion he caught hold of Jack's hand, and jerked it away. "Take his gun!" the man directed. "I'll hold him."
One of the dismounted men came up, and while the man on the big horse held
Jack in a cruel grip, another of the robbers brought out the revolver which
Jack's father had given him to carry for protection. But it had afforded
little of that in this instance.
The young rider tried in vain to pierce behind the masks, and ascertain the identity of those holding him up, but it was of no avail.
"What do you want? What's the game?" Jack asked, as the man let go of his wrist. The fellow, however, kept one hand on the bridle of the pony, so that there was no chance for Jack to make a sudden spurt to escape.
"The game is we want what you've got with you," said one of the men. "And you might as well admit that we're going to get it. You may be a pretty smart lad, or think you are, but I guess we've got you right now!"
"No, you've got me all wrong," Jack answered bitterly. "And while you were about it why didn't you bring a few more along. Four crooks seem hardly enough to hold up one pony express rider. Aren't you afraid I'll do something to you?"
He spoke lightly—sarcastically. He was fighting for time. Trying to think of some plan of escape. He even thought perhaps some one might come along to whom he could appeal for help. But there was as small a chance of that as there was of his being able to get away by his own efforts.
"I suppose you could have scared up half a dozen more like yourselves," he went on. "There are more outlaws in the mountains. Or, maybe, you have another force back on the trail, and another ahead here."
"Say, young feller, none of your fresh talk now!" cried one of the men, fiercely. "I won't stand it!"
"No, let's get it over with," remarked another.
At these words a chill of fear, such as he had not experienced before, seemed to flash over Jack. Did the men mean to harm him—put him to death, perhaps, to hide the living witness of their crime? He tried to be brave, but again came that faint feeling, and his head ached where he had been struck—ached cruelly.
"Yes, lets finish and get a move on," agreed the man on the horse. "Here, one of you take the pouches, and another hand me the ropes. I'll have him triced up in a jiffy."
Jack breathed more easily. He was only to be bound then, as the outlaws of the mountains usually did bind the stage drivers or express messengers whom they robbed. There seldom was a killing, unless the victims resisted or shot at the hold-up men.
One of the three unmounted men advanced to Jack, and began loosening the fastenings of the mail and express pouches.
"Don't touch them!" the pony rider cried. "Leave those mail sacks alone!"
So vehement was he, and so much energy did he put in his voice that, for the moment, the man was startled, and drew back.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"That is government property!" went on Jack, trying to follow up the impression he had made. "You are interfering with the United States' mail. And I don't need to tell you what sort of a crime that is! You won't have to deal with me, you'll have to answer to the government, and the inspectors will be on your trail inside of twenty-four hours! Don't you touch that mail!"
For a moment the men did seem impressed by Jack's sharp warning. Then the man on the horse laughed, and said:
"Oh, quit your talking. Go on, take the sacks and we'll get away. We can't stay here the rest of the night!"
"Say, he has a pretty lively tongue," observed the man who was loosening the sacks from Jack's saddle. "He gave me a start for a second or two."
"Forget it! Yank 'em off and come on."
Jack felt that it would be useless to protest further. Besides, there was a growing feeling of sickness and pain. The man took the express and mail packages and tied them on one of the three horses.
"Now then get off, you pony rider!" ordered the man on the big horse. "Get off, and get off quick! We're in a hurry and we're done fooling!"
"What—what are you going to do?" faltered Jack. He was beginning to be afraid of what was to come.
"We're going to tie you up so tight that you won't get loose in a jiffy," was the answer he received. "You say the inspectors will be on our trail inside of twenty-four hours. Well, maybe they won't if you can't get loose to give the alarm. So we're going to tie you up."
"That won't prevent the alarm from being given," Jack said. "When I fail to arrive there'll be a search made, and they'll find me."
"That's right," Jack heard one of the unmounted men say in a low voice.
"He's right about that."
"Oh, what of it?" impatiently asked the man on the horse. "Of course this thing is bound to be found out sooner or later. I expect that. But we can gain a little time by trussing him up with ropes. Now come on—be lively. Get off or I'll yank you off, and I won't be easy about it, either!"
Jack felt it best to obey. He leaped from the Saddle, and then, with a sharp slap on the flank of Sunger, he cried to his pony: "Go on, boy! Home!"
The intelligent animal sprang forward, and before any of the men could catch him had darted off down the dark trail in the direction of Rainbow Ridge.
"Look out—get him!" one of the men cried, sharply.
"What's the use—he's gone, and he's one of the fastest horses in the mountains; we'd never catch him," said the mounted man. "It was a sharp trick, lad, but it won't do you any good. Tie him up!"
Jack was handled roughly by the outlaws, and was soon so tightly bound that he felt he never could get loose without help. He once more tried to look behind one of the masks, but it was so dark that he could see nothing. He tried to get a mental picture of the shapes of the men and the tones of their voices, so he might know them again if he ever saw or heard them.
"Lay him over here, on one side of the road," ordered the man who seemed to be the leader. "Some one may be along before noon to-morrow and take care of you," he said to Jack, who did not answer. "If they don't we'll send an anonymous message, telling where you can be found. We don't want to hurt you, but we had to have this stuff from you, and this was the only way to get it," the outlaw went on. "Come along, boys," he concluded.
Then the four men, taking with them the mail and express pouches, galloped away in the darkness.
CHAPTER X
A QUEER DISCOVERY
Left to himself, tied tightly with the ropes that cut into his wrists and made his legs ache, poor Jack lay in a sort of stupor. He could hardly understand what had happened, and his head hurt him very much where he had been struck. He was lying on the road at one side of the trail. Overhead he could see the stars twinkling. It was still very quiet.
"Not much chance of any one coming along the trail to-night," mused Jack. It was the first thought that had come clearly to him, and, in a measure, it served to rouse him from his stupor. Then his brain seemed to clear.
"I've got to do something! I can't lie here and wait for some one to come and help me!" he decided, Already there was more vigor in the activity of his mind.
Jack's first idea, as soon as he had begun to think clearly, was that he must loosen his bonds. To this end he writhed and struggled as he lay on his back. He managed to roll over on his side, but he found himself more uncomfortable than in his first position, and soon rolled back to that.
During this operation he tried, by every means in his power, to stretch or strain the knots. He thought if he could only get one of the bonds to give he might manage to get one hand out.
"And if I can do that, I'll soon be clear," Jack reasoned, "But it isn't going to be easy to get one hand out."
It did not take him long to discover this. The robbers had done their work well. They were taking no chances. Jack rested after his struggles. His head ached worse than ever because of the rush of blood to it from the strain.
"I wonder if it will do any good to call?" he mused. "I'm going to try. But
I've got to get my breath first."
A little later he began shouting and calling for help, doing it at intervals. But he had not much hope. He was on the lonesomest part of the trail, which, at best, was seldom traveled. Often days would pass without any one, save the pony express rider, going over the mountain.
"I might as well save my breath, I guess," reasoned Jack. "This is only playing me out. Maybe they'll come for me when Sunger gets home. Whoever sees him without me and the mail will know something has happened. The only trouble is they won't know where to look. But it's my best chance, I think."
He lay quiet for a period, thinking over the momentous events that had just occurred.
"I wonder who those men were, and what they were after," mused Jack. "There wasn't enough valuable stuff in the express packages to make four men risk state's prison for it. It must have been the mail they were after. And nothing of great value was in the mail, except the letters for Mr. Argent. Of course, they were what they wanted. And in that case he ought to know who would be most interested in taking them. We may be able to arrest the men yet.
"But it may be too late," Jack reflected. "They may get the information they want and take the secret mine away from those to whom it belongs. That would be too bad! But if my plan only works, and those fellows don't open that bundle of papers, the letters may be safe yet. It was my best chance. If I could only get loose!"
Again Jack struggled and squirmed, but the ropes would not give an inch. Suddenly, as the young pony express rider was trying to work loose his bonds, he felt a sharp pain in one hand, which was under him, behind his back, pressing on the earth.
"Whew! Something cut me then!" Jack exclaimed. "Must be a knife one of the men dropped. If I could only get at that and on a rope!"
Carefully he felt along on the ground, so as not to cut himself again. His fingers touched something sharp.
"A piece of glass—part of a broken bottle," he murmured. "Well, it may be as good as a knife, but I'll probably cut myself more in using it."
He managed to work himself down until he had a firm grip on the piece of glass under him—a grip that did not cut.
"Now let me figure this out," he mused.
It was obvious that he could not hold the piece of glass in his fingers and saw away at the ropes around his wrists. He could not bend his fingers back far enough.
"If I could only get the glass between my feet, I might be able to bend them back far enough, by lying on my face, so I could saw on the ropes that way," he reflected. He tried, but soon had to give it up. He also endeavored to do this by lying on his side, but it was of no use. Then, in a flash, it came to him.
"I'll bury the glass in the ground, to hold it," he told himself. "By leaving a sharp, jagged edge sticking out I ought to be able to saw through the ropes on my wrists, by rubbing the cords up and down against the glass. I'll do it!"
It was hard work, but by lying on his side Jack managed, after a fashion. He had to work without seeing what he was doing. Even daylight would not have helped him, for he could not see behind his back.
By using the glass as a sort of shovel, Jack managed to dig a hole in the earth. He then put the long piece of glass in this, upright, and packed dirt around it. His fingers came in contact with a small stone, and he used this to tamp the soil and gravel around the glass knife, to hold it more firmly upright. He cut himself several times while doing this, but he kept on.
Finally he was ready to make the attempt. It was more than an hour after he first began his operations, and he was weary, for he had to work in a cramped and uncomfortable position. He rested a few minutes, and then began sawing the rope around his wrists up and down on the sharp piece of glass stuck upright in the ground.
It had to be done slowly and gently, because too much pressure would have overturned the queer knife. Jack knew he must be patient. He cut his wrists more than once, but the gashes were slight, and he thought the bleeding would soon stop.
Finally he felt the bonds loosening slightly. Some of the rope strands were cut through.
"It won't be long now," Jack thought, gladly.
Again and again on the jagged edge of the glass knife did he rub the cords, and finally, with a sudden spreading apart of his hands, he found he could break the remaining strands.
His hands were free!
Jack's heart beat high with hope now. He waited a few minutes to let the slackened circulation of blood take up its work. Then it was the work of but an instant, with the same piece of glass that had served him so well, to sever the ropes about his legs. But when Jack tried to stand up he nearly toppled over, so weak was he, and so numb were his legs. They had gone to sleep from the lack of circulation of the blood.
But in a little while he was all right, and could walk about.
"Now, the question is, what's the best thing to do?" he asked himself. "Make for home, as soon as I can, and give the alarm," he reasoned. "I've got to give the alarm, if Sunger hasn't already gotten there and given it for me."
Off on the dark and lonely trail he started. It was quite different from traveling over it on the back of his speedy pony. But it was something to be free, and free sooner than the robbers had any idea he would be.
"I may even be able to catch up to them, and trace which way they go," Jack thought.
He walked on for nearly an hour, when he heard the trot of a number of
Horses some distance ahead of him. Jack halted and listened intently.
"I wonder if those are the hold-up men coming back, to make sure I'm still tied up, or if it's my friends?" thought Jack. "I can't afford to take a chance. I'll hide in the bushes until I see who they are."
He knew every inch of the trail. Near the spot where he was, was a hole in the side of the hill where some badly directed man had once started to dig a gold mine. He had not gone far before he discovered that iron pyrites was the only "gold" in that locality. The hole was never filled up, and was now almost hidden from sight by a heavy growth of underbrush.
"That's the place for me," Jack mused. A few strides took him to it, and he stepped in to await, in concealment, the passage of the oncoming horsemen.
Something soft and yielding came in contact with Jack's foot. He started, thinking he must have stepped on some sleeping beast. But there came no outcry, which would have followed in that case.
"It can't be dead leaves," mused the lad, "it doesn't feel that way.
What—"
He stooped down and felt with his hands. A thrill ran through him.
"The mail pouches!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "The mail pouches the robbers took from me! They hid them here, and I've found them! What luck!"
CHAPTER XI
DUMMY LETTERS
Jack was so overjoyed at his queer and unexpected discovery that, for the moment, he forgot all about the approaching horsemen from whom he had hidden himself. Then there came a thought to him.
"Perhaps the pouches are empty! If the rascals have taken all the mail out and just thrown the empty pouches in here, that isn't such a great discovery after all!"
Once more he felt of the pouches in the darkness. He could tell that they were well filled—almost the same as when he had tied them to his saddle.
"I don't believe they opened them!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "They must have been frightened and thrown them in here, thinking to come back for them when they had the chance."
Then he had another idea.
"And that must be the robbers coming now!" he reasoned. "They're coming back to get the pouches. What shall I do?"
There was but one answer to that question—he must hide the mail and express matter in some other place. He paused a moment to listen. The galloping hoof-beats were nearer now, but it would still be some time before the riders would be opposite the old mine hole. The trail wound in and out at this point, and while sounds came up plainly through the rarefied mountain air, bodies themselves could not travel so swiftly.
"I've got five minutes, anyhow," reasoned Jack.
He caught up the mail pouches, one in either hand, though his cut fingers and wrists hurt him cruelly. But he gritted his teeth and kept on. He knew the ground well. Back of the hole was a slope that extended to a deep patch of woods. Jack would hide himself and the mail in there.
He was too excited to notice whether or not the locks on the bags had been tampered with. In fact he could not see in the dark and he had no time for extended investigation. He just tucked the bags under his arms, and ran with them. That is he made as good time as was possible under the circumstances. The ground was rough, and Jack himself was very weak. He had suffered much that night.
He found a good hiding place down in between two big logs, and there he stuffed the mail bags, covering them over with dried leaves. Then he hurried back to the hole to get the express stuff.
Fortunately that was light, this trip, and he could easily carry the few small parcels that had been entrusted to him. In fact, in those days, only light packages were accepted by the pony riders. The mail was their chief concern.
So Jack had no trouble in carrying the sacks of express matter to their new hiding place. This done he had only to watch to see who the approaching riders might be.
Jack worked quickly, and when he had taken the last of his recovered stuff to the place between the two logs he sat down in such a position that he had a view of the trail. It was getting lighter now, for the dawn was at hand. There was a faint glow in the east.
"Well, I certainly have put in a night of it!" Jack thought. "And I may be in for more if these are the robbers coming back. They may look for their stuff, and make a search if they find it missing. But I don't believe they'll find me."
Nearer came the approaching hoof-beats, Jack peered from his hiding place. He could hear voices now, but the sound was uncertain. It would not do to call out. He must see who it was that was coming.
Suddenly several men rode into view. Jack counted their heads as they were outlined against the faintly-glowing eastern sky. There were seven of them. Unless the robbers had come back reinforced these must be members of a searching party looking for the pony express rider. Yet Jack would take no chances. He must be certain.
"Hello, Jack! Jack Bailey! Pony Express! Where are you?"
This was the cry that echoed on the dying night.
Now there was no doubt of it!
Jack leaped to his feet.
"Here I am!" he cried. "Be with you in a second! Send some one up to help me carry down the mail!"
He was wildly excited, but he managed to calm himself long enough to light a match, and ignite a piece of bark. He wanted to indicate his position to the rescuers. They saw the flare and some one cried:
"All right, Jack! Be with you in a minute! Are you all right?"
It was the voice of Dr. Brown.
"Yes, I'm all right. It was a hold-up," Jack explained. "But I have the mail and express stuff back—that is I hope I have it all," he added.
Another moment and he was surrounded by his friends. There were Jed Monty, the stage driver, Dr. Brown, Amos Perkfeld, the president of the express company, Payson Wayde and Mr. Argent, besides Henry Applebaugh, the hotel keeper, and one of his stable boys.
"Are you all right. Jack?" Dr. Brown repeated, "Your father insisted that I come out and help look for you."
"Yes, I'm all right. Just cut a little, where I sawed off the ropes on a piece of jagged glass. But does my father know?"
"Yes, your pony came galloping up to the Watson house, all lathered up, with you and the mail missing. We knew right away something had happened, after Mr. Watson came rushing into town with the news. So we organized a searching party at once. But what happened to you?"
Jack told everything, down to his unexpected finding of the mail, and his hiding from the anticipated robbers.
"And so you got everything back!" exclaimed Mr. Perkfeld. "Well, I call that luck! Of course neither the government nor I could blame you for being robbed, but it is good to get it all back."
"And did my pony get home safe?" asked Jack eagerly. Sunger meant much to him.
"He's all right," said the hotel keeper. "I had one of my boys look after him. He's a bit winded, that's all. Smart little horse, that! If ever you want to sell him, Jack—"
"You needn't ask. I don't," was the quick answer. "But what about my father, Dr. Brown? Is he worrying, much?"
"Well, some, of course, Jack. But I gave him Some quieting medicine, and he'll soon hear the good news. He's much better these last few days."
The men questioned Jack at length about the appearance of the hold-up men, but he could not give a very clear description. No one recognized them as any one they knew.
"But we'll get a posse out after them as soon as we get back to town," declared Mr. Perkfeld. "We'll show them they can't hold up the pony express and get away with it."
"They didn't get away with it—that's the joke," said Mr. Argent. "I guess Jack is right. They probably feared pursuit, or might have gotten an alarm, so they dumped the stuff in the old mine hole and rode away, intending to come back later. Only Jack got ahead of them."
"That is I hope I did," interposed the pony express rider. "Maybe they have looted the bags, though they feel as full as when I look them from Golden Crossing."
"Well, we can soon tell," replied Mr. Argent. "It's getting light enough to see. The locks have been forced, anyhow, so it isn't any crime for us to open the United States' mail under these circumstances."
Jack and his rescuers gathered around while the miner opened the bags. They were filled with letters, papers and small parcels.
"There was some stuff for you, Mr. Argent," said Jack. "It was the matter you were expecting, I think."
"Yes," assented the miner.
"I think I played a trick on the robbers," Jack went on. "At least I fixed up a trick, whether it worked or not we'll have to see now. I put your stuff inside a roll of newspapers thinking they wouldn't look there."
"Good plan," said the miner. "I get your idea. But some of the bundles of papers have been opened. Maybe the hold-up men thought they would find something to eat inside."
Jack's heart fell at these words. If the robbers had opened the packages of newspapers it must have been because they expected to find something hidden in one of them. And the only thing that was hidden was the parcel of valuable letters.
"They evidently opened the bags, looked through the contents, and, after putting the stuff back in them, hid the pouches in the hole," said Mr. Argent, as he picked up and looked at several packages of newspapers.
"That's the one I wrapped your stuff in, Mr. Argent," said Jack, pointing to one newspaper packet. "But—but it's been opened!" he cried, as he saw, in the fast-coming morning light, what had happened.
"Yes, it's been opened," the miner agreed. His voice seemed strangely calm and collected.
"Are—are the letters gone?" faltered Jack.
"Well, they don't seem to be here," went on the miner, while the others looked on, somewhat at a loss what to make of the little scene. "No, there's nothing here belonging to me, Jack. Are you sure you put the sealed stuff inside this bundle of papers?"
"I'm positive!" Jack answered. "I remember it very well. It was the only bundle of papers with that kind of a wrapper."
For a moment there was a silence in the group.
"Well, they are gone," Mr. Argent went on.
Once more Jack wondered at the peculiar manner in which the miner spoke.
"I—I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Argent," said Jack, brokenly. "I thought I was doing the best thing to put the letters inside a newspaper bundle. I figured that the thieves would pass that over as of no importance. I had read of such things being done."
"But I guessed wrong. They must have been looking for the things you expected. They must have been on the watch, and were waiting for me to hold me up. I'm awfully sorry!"
Jack thought of the suspicion that had been directed against his father because the contents of a letter entrusted to him had been made public. Now the son had failed in a trust. It was no excuse to say it could not be helped. The valuable letters were gone, and that alone mattered now. Jack saw himself disgraced, and the pony express route ridden by some one else.
"I'm—I'm awfully sorry," he said again.
"Oh, you needn't be!" exclaimed Mr. Argent, and he was actually laughing.
"You needn't be."
"Needn't be! What—what do you mean?" gasped Jack.
"Why I mean that those robbers have had their trouble for their pains! Those letters were only a dummy set, sent through the mail to throw them off the scent. They contained information of absolutely no value. I thought there might be a hold-up, Jack, though I could not tell when it would occur. So I had my friends send me back a dummy set of letters. It was those useless documents which the hold-up men took. The real letters will come through later. It's a joke on those outlaws all right," and again Mr. Argent chuckled.
CHAPTER XII
A RIDE FOR LIFE
Jack Bailey did not know what to do or say. He just stood there in the morning light, gazing at Mr. Argent, as though to make sure of the miner's words. Finally he faltered:
"Do you really mean it?"
"Mean it? Of course I do!" was the answer. "It's a joke on those rascals. They've had all their trouble for their pains. They've gone off with a set of dummy letters, plans and other mining information that will take them several weeks to digest. And they'll waste a lot of time trying to locate the claim. Only they'll be from fifty to a hundred miles from it. Oh, they'll be fooled all right!"
Jack experienced a sudden revulsion of feeling. He swayed and seemed about to fall. Dr. Brown caught him.
"Hold on! This won't do!" the physician exclaimed. "We must get him home.
Why he's hurt!" he cried, as he saw the blood on Jack's hands.
"It's just some cuts—from the glass I sawed the rope on," the lad murmured. Already his strength was coming back to him. He was so glad the robbers had not obtained the real letters. It was a clever ruse on the part of the miner.
There was a spring not far from the place where Jack had recovered the mail bags, and he was given some water from this. His cuts were also washed and attended to by Dr. Brown. Then on a spare horse that had been brought along Jack rode back to Rainbow Ridge, one of the men carrying the mail and express stuff.
There was considerable excitement in town when the cavalcade returned. Already preparations were under way for the organization of a posse to hunt the robbers, and if necessary, scour the country for Jack.
But he had been found, and the mail and express matter, except the decoy letters, recovered. So the only thing left to do was to set out after the unscrupulous men who had attacked Jack.
There was little chance that they would be apprehended, however. They had a start of several hours, and probably had good horses.
"Besides," said Mr. Argent, "they will very likely head for the supposed location of the mine. It will take them out of this immediate neighborhood," he chuckled.
"And for a good while, I hope," said Mr. Perkfeld.
"Oh yes, it will take them a few weeks to find out they've been fooled," the miner said. "But then they may come back again."
"If they do we'll arrest 'em!" declared Jed Monty, cracking his stage whip.
As had been expected, the posse could get little trace of the hold-up men. They had disappeared after having cast aside the rifled mail pouches. It developed, however, that a few pieces of registered matter, and some express stuff had been taken, in addition to the bogus letters. The stolen stuff was jewelry, and there was not much chance that it would be recovered. Those to whom it was consigned would have to stand the loss.
But when it was considered that nearly all the valuable mail had come through safe, or rather, had been recovered, and that Mr. Argent's real letters were still safe, every one said it was a very lucky outcome indeed.
Jack's cuts did not amount to much, and he wanted to ride the route the next day after his experience, but Dr. Brown and his father would not let him. So a substitute was provided, furnishing his own horse, for Jack said Sunger was too tired to be used without some rest. The pony had made the trip alone, over the trail, and it was his appearance at the Watson home which had led to the alarm.
A good rest, and the knowledge that nothing really serious had happened, did much to restore Jack, and on the second day following his experience he was back in the saddle again. His cuts had been well bandaged, so he could use his hands. He was not actually required to ride the express route, but he would not let any one else do it.
"Maybe I'll get a chance to trace those robbers," he said. "I feel sure I would know at least one of them again—the man who sat on his horse all the while. I'm going to be on the watch for him."
The excitement caused by the hold-up of the pony express soon died away. In western communities there is so much going on that interest is soon shifted to newer events.
The posse that went out to seek the robbers had no luck in finding them. All traces seemed to disappear after the bags were found in the old mine-hole. A man was kept in hiding at that place for nearly a week, ready to give the alarm if the hold-up men returned to get the pouches which they had hidden. But they did not come back.
Meanwhile Jack soon became himself again. His father, too, improved slowly, though he was far from well, and would not be able to ride the trail again for a long time.
Of course, Jennie had to hear the whole story of the hold-up from Jack himself, and she sympathized deeply with him.
"Oh, it was just terrible!" she exclaimed, in her impulsive, but sweet and girlish fashion. "I just can't bear to think of your lying out there all alone, in the dark, and tied up with ropes!"
"Well, it wasn't exactly a picnic," Jack admitted.
"And to think of your cutting yourself on the glass!" she went on, as she looked at his hands, one of which she held gently.
"Oh, it might have been worse. If it hadn't been for the glass I might have lain there a while longer, and in that case I probably would not have found the stolen mail bags, for if I had waited there until the rescuers came I'd never have walked down the trail."
"Perhaps it was all for the best," Jennie admitted. "But I do hope nothing like that happens again."
"Same here!" exclaimed Jack. "Now have you the mail ready?"
And then, for a time, it was business.
For two weeks or more Jack rode the trail, back and forth, carrying the mail and the pony express matter. He was not again disturbed, and Mr. Perkfeld gave orders that, except in case of great necessity, he should not make night trips.
Nothing more was seen of the hold-up men, and Mr. Argent heard no news concerning his mining business. Whether or not those who had taken the bogus letters tried to locate the rich claim was not disclosed.
"But the real letters will come along some day—any day now—Jack," the miner said, "And when they do—"
"When they do no one shall get them away from me!" Jack exclaimed, and he was not boasting. He meant it. And you shall see how he kept his promise.
Several more attempts were made on the part of those who wanted Jack's place to supplant him as pony express rider. But he had made himself a favorite with the stage drivers, as well as with Mr. Perkfeld, who said Jack could keep on riding the trail until his father was ready to resume his duties. Several mean little things occurred, which, like the loose planks in the bridge, Jack felt were designed to make trouble for him. But he avoided them, fortunately, and none was as serious as the bridge incident. The author of that remained a mystery, though Jack had his suspicions.
Jake Tantrell continued to sneer at our hero. He made several efforts to get Jack's place, even offering to do the work for less money, but his offer was not accepted.
Then came an unpleasant season, when the fall rains set in. The sun seemed to have forgotten how to shine, and Jack fairly lived in his poncho, or big rubber riding blanket that went over his head, protecting him and the mail bags.
"How's the Ponto river, Jack?" asked his father one day, when the lad had stopped to speak to the invalid. "Is she rising much with all this water that's falling?"
"Yes, she's getting pretty high, Dad."
"Look out for the bridge there. It isn't any too strong, and it may go out with the high water."
"Oh, I'm not worrying about that. They've strengthened it within these last two weeks, and I guess it will hold. Still the water is high in the mountains. There's some talk of the Richfield dam not holding."
"Is that so? Well, if that goes out the folks down below will get a wetting."
"That's what they will! But it may hold until it stops raining."
The Richfield dam was a new one, built above the small settlement of that name on the flats about three miles to the northeast of the Ponto river. The Richfield river was a branch of the latter, and was a turbulent stream, often rising rapidly, for It was confined between steep, high! banks.
Jack had his talk with his father vividly recalled to his mind two nights later. It was the first time since the hold-up that he had been obliged to ride at night, but there was some valuable mail that had been delayed, and that must be put through.
The pony express lad was on his trip toward Rainbow Ridge from Golden Crossing, and it was dark when he reached the point where the Richfield river branched off from the Ponto. And at the sight which met his eyes the lad exclaimed:
"Say, this is certainly high water! I wonder if the dam is holding."
It had rained hard all day. Now it was but drizzling.
"I'm going to take a run down there," Jack decided. "It won't take me ten minutes, and you can easily make that up; can't you Sunger?"
The pony whinnied in answer.
"I've time enough, anyhow," Jack went on. "I'll just go and take a look at the dam. The water must be two feet over it now."
He turned off the main trail, and was soon approaching the dam. Before he reached it he could hear the sullen roar of the pent-up water. And when he had a view of the impounded flood he saw at once that it had approached the danger point.
Jack looked critically at the dam. He knew something about such structures, and about high water.
"I don't believe that dam will last," he argued. "There's too much water pressure on it." Even as Jack spoke a small portion of the dam, near its juncture with the shore, gave way, and a large volume of water rushed out.
"That's the start!" cried the pony rider. "She'll all go in half an hour. I've got to ride down below and warn the Richfield people. Otherwise they'll be swept away. I've got to ride and warn them!"
There was nothing else to do. Jack called to his faithful pony and guided him into the trail that led to Richfield on the flats below. If that volume of water were suddenly to be released through the breaking of the dam, part of the village would be wiped out. If they were warned in time the populace in the danger zone could take to the hills on either side and escape.
"Come on, boy!" called Jack to his pony. "It's a ride for life all right!"