CHAPTER XX
AT GOLDEN CROSSING
"Jack is late, isn't he, Jennie?" asked Mrs. Blake, as she sat in the Golden Crossing post office. She had finished her sewing, and had stopped for a little chat.
"Well, you know he had to ride out and get the mail from the disabled stage coach," replied the girl, as she made some entries in her books. "And perhaps he had to go farther than the messenger said. There's plenty of time, though."
"Well, he's late," Mrs. Blake repeated. "I hope he doesn't have to make a night trip."
"So do I," her daughter murmured, as she thought of the time Jack had been held up. "It isn't likely he will, though. You know, Mr. Perkfeld said he needn't make those night trips any more unless there was something very important."
"You never can tell when some important matter will come in though," resumed Mrs. Blake, after a pause, during which she had gone to the window to peer down the trail in the direction from which Jack would come. "And isn't he expecting something for Mr. Argent?"
"Yes, and that is the only thing I'm worrying about," confessed Jennie. "If those letters come in Jack will be sure to want to ride off with them at once, night or day. And we won't know when the letters do arrive until the mail sacks come here and I open them."
"Well, it certainly is a risky business, this pony express," sighed her mother.
"It wouldn't be so risky if it wasn't for those desperate outlaws, and the other men who want Jack's position," Jennie said, her eyes flashing. "It makes me so mad when I think what an unfair advantage they take that I wish I were a man so I could help Jack fight them!"
"My!" laughed Mrs. Blake. "But I guess you're better off inside here, than out on the mountain trail."
"Yes, I suppose so. That's all we women are good for, anyhow, to sit and wait and worry!"
"Any one would think you were twice as old as you are," said Mrs. Blake with a smile at her daughter. "Hark! Is that he coming?"
They both started toward the door, but, with a sigh of disappointment,
Jennie said:
"No, it's only Tim Mullane."
The red-haired, genial Irish lad entered with a grin.
"Jack not here yet?" he asked, with some surprise.
"Oh, I wish you wouldn't say that!" Jennie exclaimed, and her voice was not her usual one.
"Why, what's the matter?" her mother asked, in some surprise.
"Oh, it makes me nervous when any one speaks about Jack's not being back.
It—it's just as if—as if something had happened to him!" she faltered.
"Oh sure, miss, what could happen to him?" asked Tim, seeing with his Irish quickness "which way the wind blew."
"Nothing, of course," Jennie went on. "He just rode out to get the mail because the stage was broken down. Maybe he knows there is nothing important in it, so he can stay here all night."
"Of course," agreed Mrs. Blake. But to herself she said. "I do wish Jack would come!"
There was nothing to do, however, save wait, and that is often the hardest kind of work, as it is certainly the most nervous. Jennie and her mother busied themselves about the post office, Jennie asking the advice of Mrs. Blake on certain matters connected with the reports she had to send in to the officials.
"I suppose there will be a real post office inspector along some day to go over my accounts," she ventured.
"Perhaps," her mother admitted. "And if any more bogus ones come on the scene, I hope I'm here—or that Jack is."
"Yes, Jack routed that other chap finely," said Jennie.
And so they waited for the return of the pony express rider.
Meanwhile, what of Jack? Brave and intelligent Sunger was galloping on with his senseless burden. The pony seemed to know just what to do. He took the easiest part of the mountain trail, avoiding places where he might stumble or fall, for he seemed to realize that Jack's guiding and careful hand was not at the reins now.
On and on galloped the animal, making the best speed he could, though the trail was hard and steep in places.
Suddenly, from the road back of him, Sunger heard the sound of galloping. The pony pricked up his ears. Another rider was coming. Who it might be Sunger, of course, did not know. But the little pony had been trained never to let another horse pass him from behind on the mail route. It was not so much a matter of necessity as it was of pride, and Jack's pony now increased his pace.
And then, at a level place on the trail, and one that was straight, where a good view could be had ahead, there swung into view behind Sunger a horse, carrying a man who was urging his mount on with whip, spur and voice.
"So that's why I didn't find him as I expected to!" exclaimed Ryan, for he it was who was galloping behind the unconscious form of Jack Bailey. "He's sticking to his horse, but he must be all in. That lad's got grit and pluck, and I'm almost sorry I had to do him up. But I had to. We simply must get the information about that mine, and this was the only plan I thought would work. But he sure has grit and spunk to ride on with that dose in him."
From where he was, Ryan could not see the device of ropes Jack had used to prevent falling from the back of his pony during his unconsciousness. The outlaw merely thought that Jack was only partly under the influence of the drug, and that the youth was clinging with his arms about Sunger's neck.
"I wonder if I can ride him down?" mused the desperate man. "I've just got to, that's all. I let him get too much the start, but I sure did think I'd find him senseless beside the road!"
But Ryan reckoned without his host. Sunger was not going to be caught The going was better now, and the little pony had the advantage of not carrying as much weight as did the larger horse. Moreover, Sunger was naturally fleeter.
So, though Ryan urged his own steed as he had seldom urged it before, the gap between the two animals did not close up. In fact it seemed to widen, and when Ryan saw that he became desperate.
"Who'd think he could beat me this way?" he asked himself. "No human being, I thought, could keep his senses after that dose I put in his coffee. It won't do him any permanent harm, that's one thing I'm glad of, for after a lad has made the plucky fight he has I don't wish him harm, even if we have to take desperate measures against him. He'll be all right again in a couple of hours. But why doesn't he fall off?"
It was not until some time later that Ryan learned why, and then his admiration for Jack increased. For, bad and unscrupulous as he was, Ryan had once been a good man, and he could admire grit and fine qualities in others, though he could not exercise them himself.
"I've got to get him soon, or we'll be plump into Golden Crossing, and then the jig will be up, I fear," Ryan said fiercely. "They'll say I bungled the job, and they'll try another hold-up, I suppose. For those letters are in that mail, and we must have them!"
But as he galloped on for another quarter of a mile, it became increasingly evident that Sunger was not to be overtaken. The louder the hoof-beats of the other horse sounded, the faster the plucky little pony ran, though he was now tiring. But he was game, all the way through, and never would give up while he had an ounce of strength left in him.
"Well, there's only one way to end it," said Ryan aloud. He drew his revolver. "I hate to shoot a fine little pony like that," the man went on, "but I've got to stop him somehow, and I can't ride him down. It's the only way!"
Carefully he took aim, and was about to pull the trigger. Then he hesitated and lowered the weapon.
"No, I haven't the nerve," he muttered. "If I kill the pony he'll go over, and the boy may be killed too. I can't do it. It goes against me. I'm bad enough all the way through, but I'm not going to do anything like that, and I'll tell the gang so. If I can't ride him down he'll have to get away, as far as I'm concerned. I can't do that!"
He shoved the weapon back into the holster, and exclaimed:
"Now, you brute, I'm going to make you run!"
He whipped his own horse cruelly, and the animal, in terror, did respond with a burst of speed. It came too late, however, for a few minutes later the trail turned, and Ryan knew he was near Golden Crossing—too near for safety.
"No use!" he muttered! "I've got to give up. I'll go and tell the gang. Maybe they can get the letters some other way. They aren't in Rainbow Ridge yet, and lots of things can happen on the road. I'll tell the gang and we'll think up something new."
He reined in his nearly exhausted horse, and swung back down the trail, riding slowly. Sunger, with his unconscious burden, kept on. The race was almost run, and it was high time, for the pony was all but fagged out.
And then into the very streets of the mountain town went the little horse. Straight through the streets, bearing unconscious Jack. And those who saw wondered, though some may have guessed what had happened.
Several raced after Sunger, who was now abating some of his speed. For he saw, just ahead of him, the post office. That was the goal for which he had striven, and he seemed to realize that the race was won.
No one attempted to stop Sunger. They knew where he would go. And reaching the rail where Jack always tied him at one side of the Golden Crossing post office, the pony stopped. He spread his legs far apart, for he was trembling from weariness.
"Oh, it's Jack!" cried Jennie, looking from the window to see the meaning of the galloping, and of the strange cries. "It's Jack! Something has happened!" she faltered, as she saw the unconscious form in the saddle. "Oh, Mother! He—he's dead!"
Tim Mullane was at the side of the unconscious pony rider.
"No, he isn't dead!" he shouted, "but he's in a bad way. Here, some of yez give me a hand and we'll loosen him up, and take him inside. Poor lad! He's had a hard time!"
CHAPTER XXI
THE ARGENT LETTERS
They carried Jack inside, and laid him on a couch. Jennie and her mother used what simple remedies they had at hand to rouse him from his unconscious state. Tim took the exhausted pony to the stable, for Sunger was much in need of rest.
"What was it? What happened to the pony Express?" asked several of the crowd that had gathered outside when they had seen the animal canter up with Jack on his back.
"I don't know what happened," replied the red-haired helper. "But maybe it was Indians tied him that way, and was going to make his pony jump over a cliff. Them Indians is fierce!"
"Indians! There aren't any around here!" said some one, laughing at Tim's notion. Tim had not been out West long.
"More likely it was some of those hold-up fellows," suggested a man in the throng. "Though why they should tie him to his horse Is more than I can figure out."
"Well, Jack came through all right, or, rather, that smart pony of his brought him," another voice said. "And he brought the mail safe!"
"That's what he did!" cried several.
Meanwhile inside the little cottage, part of which was given over to the Golden Crossing post office, Jennie and her mother were working hard over the unconscious form of Jack.
"I guess we'll have to send for the doctor, Jennie," finally said Mrs. Blake. "I've tried ammonia and camphor, and he doesn't come to. He may be badly hurt, thought it doesn't show."
"Oh, mother!" faltered the girl. "Poor Jack!"
"Eh? What's the matter? Who's calling me?" asked Jack himself in a faint voice. It was as though he had murmured in his sleep. He slowly opened his eyes.
"Oh, mother! It's all right! He's waking up!" Jennie exclaimed. "We won't need a doctor right away. Oh, Jack, what happened you?"
Jack's senses were slowly but surely clearing. His head hurt him very much, but that terrible, sick feeling was passing away. He was in a daze yet, and the voices of Jennie and her mother seemed far away, indeed.
"Why I'm here—in the post office!" Jack suddenly exclaimed, with more energy than before. His eyes were wide open now, and he looked about the familiar room.
"Of course you're in the post office, or, rather, in our sitting room that opens from it," said Jennie.
"But the mail! The mail!" Jack suddenly cried, trying to sit up. The motion sent such a rush of blood to his head that he had to fall limply back.
"I—I'll be all right in a minute," Jack said, after a pause. "But what about the mail? Tell me that! Did I bring it through safely?"
"That's what you did!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake. "It was safe on your saddle, and you were tied fast to your pony. Who did that."
"I did it myself," Jack answered. "But I'm glad I brought the mail in safely. I was afraid I couldn't do it, but I did."
"Do you mean to say you roped yourself fast that way?" demanded Jennie, somewhat incredulously.
"I did," Jack replied.
"Why, the idea! We thought the hold-up men did."
"I did it to fool the hold-up rascals," said Jack. He was feeling better every minute now, and when he had taken some of the spirits of ammonia Mrs. Blake held out to him, his head cleared very much.
"One of them, named Ryan, put up a game on me," Jack explained. "He tried to get me to take a drugged drink, and, when I refused, though of course I didn't know it was drugged, he put some stuff in my coffee. Queer stuff it must be. For it certainly knocked me out, but I don't feel nearly so bad now."
Just what sort of drug it was that Ryan used on Jack was never revealed. It was said later that the man himself had once been an expert chemist, and he probably knew the secrets of drugs better than the average criminal. Whatever it was he gave Jack, it left no harmful after effects, and for that the pony rider was thankful.
"Do you want a doctor?" asked Mrs. Blake. "We'll send for one, Jack, if you say so."
"No, I think I'll be all right," he answered. "I'm feeling better by the minute. Oh, but I was sick!" and he shuddered at the recollection. "But where is the mail?" he demanded, and this time he followed his question by sitting up. "Where is it?" he repeated.
"Tim brought it in," Jennie replied. "I haven't opened it yet. There was so much excitement when we saw what a state you were in that I let the mail wait. There's a crowd outside now, waiting to hear the story."
"Well, I don't feel like telling them," said Jack. "I want to sit here and rest. Is Sunger all right?"
"Yes," Mrs. Blake reported. "I'll go out and tell the folks something of what happened. Later on they can hear the whole story. But shan't I notify the sheriff or some one, and have them get after this Ryan? What became of him?"
"The last I saw of him was when he was sitting in the restaurant," Jack answered. "He said good-bye in the friendliest fashion. And to think of the trick he played on me! Said he'd see me again, the scoundrel!"
"And did he see you again?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"No," Jack answered. But he did not know how Ryan had pursued him, and then disappeared.
"He must have had it all figured out," the lad went on. "He planned to come up to me after I had fallen unconscious. Then he'd take the mail. Are you sure it's safe?" he asked again.
"Yes," replied Jennie. "I'll bring it in here and let you see it if necessary."
"No, I'll go out to it," replied Jack. "I'm feeling almost myself again."
"Better take a little more rest," suggested Mrs. Blake.
She had gone outside to explain matters to the waiting and anxious crowd, which, having had its curiosity satisfied, in a measure, now dispersed. Some of the younger lads went over to the stable where Sunger was resting. They wanted to look at, and marvel over, the plucky pony that had done so much to safeguard Jack and the mail.
Jack got to his feet. He had, however, overestimated his strength, for he tottered and would have fallen had not Jennie put out her hands to steady him.
"Look out!" she cautioned him.
"Humph! I'm a regular girl!" complained Jack, somewhat ashamed of his weakness.
"Take care!" Jennie playfully retorted. "Girls are a whole lot better than boys, in many ways."
"Yes, I know," confessed Jack. "If it were not for you and your mother I don't know what I'd do. But I guess I can walk now. Queer how that stuff, whatever it was, knocked me out."
"Here, drink this," suggested Mrs. Blake, and she held out a cup of coffee she had brewed.
"Coffee!" Jack exclaimed, with a grim smile. "Are you sure it's all right?"
"No drug in that," Jennie's mother assured him. "It will make you feel better. Then I'll get supper. You can eat, can't you?"
"Yes, my appetite doesn't seem to have left me in spite of what I went through. I didn't take much in that restaurant. I was too anxious to get away with the mail."
Jack drank the coffee, and it made him feel better. Then he said:
"Now for the mail. I want to see it opened, Jennie, so I'll know just what it was I brought through."
"But you're not going on through to Rainbow Ridge to-night, are you?" she asked anxiously.
"I guess not," was his answer. "Can't tell though, until I see what's in the mail. I may have to."
"Well, we'll just not let you!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake with vigor. "If there is anything that has to go through I'll get Tim, or some one else, to ride the trail. We'll even send two men if necessary."
"Oh, I can't give up that way!" Jack protested.
"Well, maybe there isn't anything to carry," suggested Jennie. "I'll open the mail and we'll look."
She turned the key in the lock of the first sack, and spilled the contents out on the sorting table. Almost the first thing she and Jack saw was a flat package, sealed with red wax. Jack quickly turned it over.
"It's for Mr. Argent!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if these can be the important letters and plans he is expecting? They must be, and that's why Ryan tried to get them!"
Jennie said nothing, but looked at Jack with troubled eyes.
CHAPTER XXII
THE MASKED MAN
For a few seconds the two young people remained looking alternately at one another, and then at the packet which they guessed contained the long-expected and important papers. The red wax, with which the package was sealed, gleamed in the lamp-light, for one had been set aglow. It was dark early on this night, as clouds overcast the sky.
"Yes, these must be the papers Mr. Argent is expecting," Jack said, musingly. "I wonder what I'd better do about them?"
"What is there to do?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"Well, I think I ought to take them to him. I feel all right now. The effects of that drug has passed off, and—"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jennie's mother; "you shall do nothing of the sort.
No trip to Rainbow Ridge to-night!"
"But he may want them!" insisted Jack. "And I promised to bring them through for him. I think I must go."
"Please don't," pleaded Jennie. "We can lock the letters in the safe here, and you can take them the first thing in the morning. You know you were told not to make a night trip unless it was absolutely necessary, and it isn't. There isn't anything here that must go through before morning," and she rapidly sorted over the mail and express matter to prove what she said.
"And didn't Mr. Argent tell you not to take the risk of a night trip just for these letters?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"Yes, he did, but—"
"Then don't go. In fact it would not be fair to him to risk taking them after dark, when you know his enemies are after them. You have had a narrow escape this afternoon, you are weak, and—"
"Oh, I'm all right now!" insisted Jack. "I feel fine."
He certainly looked it. His health had enabled him to make a quick recovery from the effects of the drug, the life he lived in the open air doing much to help his system throw off the effects of the narcotic. Jack looked able to make a night ride.
"You may feel fine," said Mrs. Blake, determined to carry her point, "but there is no telling when there might be a reaction, and a return of that dizzy feeling. If you fell off your pony in the dark, at some lonesome point of the mountain trail, you might not only suffer yourself, but it would give Mr. Argent's enemies the very chance for which they are scheming."
"Well, that's so," Jack admitted. "I didn't think of that."
"Then you won't go?" asked Jennie.
"No, I think perhaps I'd better not But is there a good place here to keep the package?"
"We have a safe," replied Mrs. Blake. "It isn't a very big one, and I suppose a real burglar wouldn't have much trouble in opening it. But there aren't any burglars around here—there may be desperate men, but they're not burglars. They can't work the combination. Besides, we'll be on the lookout and watch, and you'll stay here all night, Jack, of course."
"Oh yes, thank you, Aunt Matilda. I'll stay as long as I'm not going back to Rainbow Ridge. And if any attempt is made to rob the safe, well, there'll be some trouble," and Jack took out his weapon to make sure that it was fully loaded.
"Oh!" Jennie exclaimed, "I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Do what?"
"Flourish that revolver so recklessly. It makes me nervous."
"I'm not reckless," said Jack. "And I've got to be sure it will go off if I need it."
"I hope you won't need it," said the girl in a low voice.
The matter of Jack's staying having been decided, he helped Jennie sort the mail and express matter, so there would be no delay in the morning. For the pony express rider had determined to make an early start.
"I want to get those letters in the hands of Mr. Argent just as soon as I can," he said. "Then the worry will be off my mind."
"And it is a worry," Jennie admitted. "Any one might think that to have a mail route over these mountains wasn't very important, but things seem to have crowded in on you lately."
"You haven't had it altogether easy yourself," said Jack, as he thought of the bogus inspector. "Ever since I took dad's place there has been something to worry you."
"Well, it isn't your fault, Jack," she said. "It just seems to be a combination of circumstances, all more or less connected with Mr. Argent's mine. But perhaps this is the end and from now on everything will go along all right. I hope so!"
"So do I!" Jack declared. "Now I think I'll go over and have a look at the pony. I may have a bit of hard riding to do to-morrow, and I want him to be in good shape."
"Do you think they'll try again to-morrow to this package away from you?" asked Jennie, looking around the room apprehensively, as though some one might be lurking in the shadows.
"There's no telling," Jack responded.
He was glad to get out in the air again for a little while. There was a fresh breeze blowing from the west, cold and refreshing from the distant mountains, and the air cleared away from Jack's head the last lingering feeling caused by the drug.
"Well, Sunger, old boy, they didn't get us that time, did they?" he asked as he went into the stall and petted his faithful animal. "They didn't get us though they tried mighty hard. We gave them a run for their money all right, and we'll do it again if they make another try. How are you, anyhow?"
He talked to the pony as though the plucky little fellow were human. And perhaps Sunger understood more than Jack gave him credit for doing. Certainly he had proved his intelligence that day.
Having seen that his mount, on which so much depended, was well bedded down and had enough food and water, Jack went back to the Blake home.
"And now for a pleasant evening," suggested Jennie. "We'll have a game of checkers, Jack. I think I can beat you this time, though you didn't give me half a chance the last time."
"I'll concede you two men," he said, smiling.
"No, indeed!" she exclaimed, half indignantly. "If I can't beat you evenly I don't want to win at all. Just because I'm a girl you'll handicap yourself!"
"Oh well have it your own way," he agreed, smiling at her energetic words.
"Well, isn't this better than riding on the lonesome mountain trail, thinking every minute you're going to be held up?" asked Jennie, when one game had been finished, Jack winning as usual.
"It certainly is!" he agreed, as he looked around the pleasant room. "But then, you know, business before pleasure."
"Not when it isn't absolutely necessary," remarked Mrs. Blake.
The living rooms of Jennie and her mother were upstairs, over the post office and the express department. There was a spare room that Jack used when he remained over night with his relatives.
"But I think I'll not sleep there to-night," he said, when preparations were being made for retiring.
"Why not?" asked Jennie.
"I want to be down here, near the safe," Jack replied, nodding toward the steel box in which the Argent letters and some registered mail had been placed for security until morning. "I suppose nothing will happen," he went on, "but I shall feel better if I am down here."
"But there is no place to sleep—no bed," objected Jennie.
"A blanket and the soft side of a board will do for me," Jack answered, with a laugh. "I've camped out and slept on the ground often enough not to mind one night of discomfort. Don't worry, I'll be comfortable enough here."
"We can bring down the old lounge if you insist on sleeping here," Mrs.
Blake said.
"Well, I should like to, if you don't mind," Jack answered. And so it was arranged. Jennie and her mother went up stairs, and Jack, without undressing, stretched out on the couch, pulling the blankets over him, for the night was cool with the approach of fall.
Jack's improvised bedroom was in a part of the post office, and in the room adjoining stood the safe, containing the valuable letters. By peering out of a nearby door Jack could have a glimpse of the strong box.
"Maybe I'll have my trouble for my pains," Jack reasoned, "but I'll worry less this way. I wonder if they'll really make any attempt to get in here?"
He hardly knew what to think. When he recalled the desperate chance Ryan had taken to get possession of what he must have known was in the mail sack, Jack was sure the attempt would not easily be given up. But as the plotters had so far been successfully evaded and their tricks set at naught, it might be that they would give up now.
"It's about six of one and half a dozen of the other," Jack mused, "and I think the odds are in my favor."
He did not feel sleepy. Perhaps the after-effects of the drug were such as to produce an abnormally active state of the brain, and the brain must be quiet to have sleep come. For a time Jack lay quietly on his couch. Then he had an attack of the fidgets, and he tossed restlessly to and fro.
Up stairs all was quiet, and he hoped his aunt and cousin were sleeping in comfort. Now and then Jack assured himself that his revolver was ready to his hand. As the hours were ticked off on the office clock, Jack became more and more nervous.
"Come, this won't do!" he told himself. "I won't be fit for much to-morrow if I don't get some sleep, and I may have a hard day of it. Guess I'll get up and have a drink of water. I've heard that's a good thing to do when one can't sleep."
He tried to move about cautiously, so as not to disturb Jennie and her mother. But as often happens when one moves about in the dark, objects are struck that one hardly knew were in the room. The things all seem to mass themselves under foot.
Jack banged into a table, and knocked over a chair.
"Oh!" screamed Jennie from the room above. "Mother! Jack! They've come!"
"It isn't anything—I just got up to get a drink," quickly explained Jack, wishing he had kept still. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
"I haven't been asleep," Jennie confessed, calling down the stairway.
"Isn't it nearly morning?"
"A little after twelve," Jack reported, striking a match and looking at his watch.
Going back to his couch he soon found himself sinking off into a comfortable doze. He really needed natural sleep after his experience that day, and a little later he found it stealing over him. He turned on his side, and, before he knew it, was oblivious to his surroundings.
How long he slept Jack did not know, but he awoke with a start, and he was at once aware that his awakening had been caused by some sudden noise. For a moment he was so confused that he could not think clearly, or recall where he was.
He passed his hand across his head, and this slight action seemed to make his brain work. Then he sat up. He was at once aware that something unusual was going on.
There was a dim light shining in through the room where the safe was. And as Jack had left none burning, and as there were no street lights in Golden Crossing, the express rider at once realized that some one had brought a light into the room since he had fallen asleep.
Jack was about to call out, thinking perhaps his aunt or cousin had come down stairs, but he restrained himself.
"I'll just go and see who it is," he thought. A wild idea came to him. He reached under his pillow and brought out his revolver.
"If it's any of the outlaws I'll be ready," he murmured.
Moving with the silence of a cat, Jack, who had taken off his shoes, tiptoed to the door between the two rooms. As he advanced he could hear a succession of small noises. One was a sort of purring sound. Then came the tinkle of metal on metal—a faint sound that would not have been audible but for the deep silence over the place. Then Jack saw a flicker of the light, as though some one or some object had come near enough to it to produce a shadow.
Then, as Jack looked, he saw the outlines of a man's head, and the man seemed bent over, of stooping. Again came the tinkle of metal on metal.
All at once the truth flashed into Jack's mind.
"They're going to blow open the safe" was his thought. "It's the outlaws!
I've caught 'em! They've drilled the safe and are going to blow it open!"
He managed, by going slowly, and trying each board with his foot advanced, to guard against a creak, finally to reach the door that opened into the room where the safe stood.
And there, kneeling on the floor in front of the strong box, was a masked man. He was in front of the safe, and a partly-opened dark lantern gave light enough for Jack to see what was going on.
The safe was not open, but, as Jack looked, and as he was about to give the command: "Hands up!" he saw the masked man suddenly spring back and slide, on rubber-soled shoes, to a far corner.
There was a tiny curl of smoke near the door of the safe. Jack realized, too late, what it was—the fuse attached to a charge of nitroglycerine. The safe was about to be blown open.
And then, ere Jack could spring forward and tear loose the fuse, the explosion came.
It was not loud, but the force of if blew Jack backward, knocking him down.
His head hit on something and, for the moment, he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE ESCAPE
Jack did not remain senseless long. When he recovered he became aware of a confused shouting, and an acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils.
"Jack! Jack!" he heard Jennie and her mother shouting. "Jack, are you hurt?"
By a great effort, overcoming the faintness that seemed to be returning,
Jack scrambled to his feet. It was dead black in the place now.
"I'm all right!" Jack cried, "but something has happened. They've been here all right Stay up there until I call you."
He struck a match, for he had a box in readiness in his pocket.
A glance into the room where the safe stood showed what havoc had been wrought by the explosion. It was not much, for only a small charge had been used. But the door of the safe was blown off, and some damage was done to the fixtures and furniture of the place.
The interior of the strong box—for it was that and nothing more, being an old-fashioned safe—was plainly exposed to view. Jack was in front of it on the jump. Lighting another match he peered within.
"They're gone!" he cried aloud. "He's got the Argent letters! And me sleeping right beside them! This is fierce!"
With trembling fingers, and a deep sense of humiliation in his heart, Jack lighted a lamp. But even with this greater light there was no trace of the missing packet. Only that seemed to have been taken, as far as Jack could make out.
But now Jennie and her mother, frightened and alarmed, were begging to know what had happened. There was no trace of the masked man. He had slipped out while Jack lay unconscious, our hero thought. Though, indeed, he felt little like a hero just then.
"Oh, Jack, what is it? Can't we come down? Are you hurt?" Jennie begged.
"No, I'm not hurt. Come down if you like. They blew open the safe!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake, and there was fear and alarm in her voice. Certainly any one might fear those unscrupulous outlaws, who seemed to halt at nothing to gain their ends.
For a moment Jack gazed dumbly at the ruin wrought. His eyes sought for some trace of the package he had done so much to bring through with safety, but which, after all, had been taken while he slept. Certainly it was an unfortunate and distressing affair.
"Oh, isn't it awful!" gasped Jennie, as she and her mother picked their way through the confusion of furniture in the room, and looked at the looted safe. "It's just terrible!"
"Jack, sound an alarm at once!" cried Mrs. Blake, recognizing the need for quick action, "Fire your revolver out of the window—yell—do something!"
"Of course! And here I stand like a booby!" Jack cried. "We must get a posse after that fellow!"
An open window showed how the robber had entered and gone. Jack thrust his weapon outside and fired the five shots in quick succession. The explosion by which the safe was shattered did not appear to have roused any of the townspeople. Probably the report was too muffled to carry far.
But Jack's shots, ringing out in the open, were heard, and soon windows began to go up. Heads were thrust out, and there came many demands to know what was going on.
"Post office safe blown and robbed!" cried Jack. "It was done by one man, though there may have been more. We must get after them!"
"That's what we must!" cried Tim Mullane, one of the first on the scene.
Jack slipped on his shoes, and, with a lantern, hurried across to where Sunger was stabled. As he approached the place the open door made his heart sink.
"If he has taken Sunger—" he faltered.
That was what the masked robber had done. The pony's stall was vacant. Jack felt a fierce longing to do something desperate. This was the last straw.
"Sunger gone! Sunger gone!" Jack repeated, blankly.
He did not want to believe it, but there was nothing else to do. The masked robber had made his escape on Jack's speedy mount.
By this time all those living in the vicinity of the post office were aroused. They came, hastily dressed, mostly men and boys, to crowd into the small place and look at the wrecked safe.
"That job was done by professionals all right," said the town marshal. "That's no amateur work. He just put some of the nitroglycerine in a crack between the door and the casing, or maybe in a hole he bored, and touched it off with a fuse. Yes, it was a neat job."
"Neat!" Jock exclaimed, rather indignantly. "When he took that valuable package? Neat!"
"Oh well, you know what I mean," the marshal said. "Now, boys, we've got to get these fellows, and get after them hard!"
"I only saw one," Jack put in.
"Well, he probably had confederates. Now, boys, get your horses and we'll hit the trail. There's only two he could take, and we'll cover 'em both. You come along, too, Jack, that is if you feel able. I see you got a cut on your head."
Jack put up his hand. It came away bloody, and Jennie screamed.
"It's only a little cut where I fell, when the force of the explosion knocked me down," Jack said. Up to then, so great had been the excitement, he had not been aware of the slight injury.
"Well get on your pony then, and come along," the marshal urged him. "We'll want you to identify the fellow if we catch him. That is if you can."
"I'm not sure I could," Jack said. "I only saw his back, and he wore a mask."
"Well, come along anyhow. Hop on your pony and—"
"I can't!" Jack exclaimed. "The fellow took Sunger!"
"He did!" the marshal cried. "Well, now we certainly must get him! If he's a horse thief, as well as a safe-blower we sure will get him! Scatter, boys! Be lively! Jack, I'll lend you a horse. Come on now. Jim Hickey, you lead one bunch over the Tuckerton trail, and I'll head another on the road to Rainbow Ridge. But most likely the fellow will take to the mountains and hide out for a spell."
"He won't be very likely to go to Rainbow Ridge," said Jack.
"Why not?"
"Because he's got a valuable package of letters and mining documents addressed to Mr. Argent of that place. He wouldn't go there."
"I don't know," returned the marshal. "He wouldn't stay there, but he might go through that way."
It did not take long to organize two posses, and Jack went with the one led by the marshal. The young express rider bestrode a borrowed steed, and though it was good enough, as horses go, it was not at all like his beloved Sunger.
"I wonder if I'll ever get him back," mused the lad, as he trotted along beside the others.
"A measly horse thief!" muttered the marshal. "We'll get him if it takes a year."
In the West horse-stealing is a crime almost on a par with killing; for out there a man's life often depends on his horse, and if a thief takes the horse away he may also be responsible for the death of the man. That is why horse-stealing is visited with such swift and sure vengeance when the culprit is caught.
Since there was a moon that night, there was fairly good light to see to follow the mountain trails. The robber had not much of a start, but he was riding Jack's fleet pony, and that, in itself, meant a great deal, for there were few horses in that part of the country who could distance him.
Over the trails they rode, and, as they went, the hope of soon catching the robber grew less and less.
"I'm afraid he's escaped us all right," the marshal said, ruefully. "But we'll get him yet. I'll never let a horse thief get the best of me!"
"You seem to forget that he also took those valuable letters," Jack remarked.
"No, I'm not forgetting it," the marshal said, "but to my way of thinking that ain't half so bad a crime as taking your horse. And I'd say the same thing if he took any other horse, or one of mine. I just naturally hate a horse thief!"
"That's right!" chimed in several of the men in the posse.
There were no places, or, rather, only one or two places, along the mountain trail, where inquiries could be made as to whether or not the robber—or some night-rider—had passed. But at such lonely cabins as Jack and his friends came to they roused the inmates and put their questions.
"Seems to me I did hear a hoss gallopin' about an hour back," said one old man. "I thought maybe it was the pony express goin' through, though, so I didn't pay no attention."
"I wish it had been the pony express," murmured Jack regretfully. "If I had taken the letters on the night ride I might have gotten safely through with them."
"I don't hardly believe it," the marshal told him. "I guess those outlaws were watching the trail. They were bound to get them, and when they found you weren't going through with 'em they came in and blowed the safe."
"I suppose so," murmured Jack.
CHAPTER XXIV
JACK'S IDEA
Morning came. At least the dawn was heralded in the east, where the dark clouds turned to pink, growing brighter and brighter, until the sun himself peeped above the horizon.
The posse with which Jack was riding had come almost all the way to Rainbow Ridge, and so far had not had a sight of the robber or any of his confederates, if he had any, which was scarcely to be doubted.
"Well, boys, we may as well go back, I guess," the marshal said. "We'll have to organize a regular hunt, and scatter through the mountains. But we'll have to go back and get some grub. I'm getting hungry, and a man can't hunt a horse thief on an empty stomach."
"That's right!" several of the men agreed.
"Why not keep on?" some one asked. "We can get to Rainbow Ridge quicker than we can to Golden Crossing."
"That's true," added Jack. "I'd ask you all to our cabin, but there's nothing there to eat, since dad is being taken care of by Mrs. Watson."
"Oh, we can get grub easily enough," the sheriff said. "I guess it will be as well to go on to Rainbow Ridge. We want to spread the news there anyhow, and get some men out after the robbers from this end. And I suppose you'll have to report the robbery, won't you?" he asked Jack.
"Yes," replied the pony express rider, and his voice was sad. "I'll have to admit that they got the best of me."
"Oh, shucks! It wasn't your fault at all!" declared the marshal. "Those fellows were bound to get the letters, and if they didn't one way they would another. You couldn't help it."
"But I was asleep right alongside the safe."
"Yes, but maybe they chloroformed you. Such things have been done."
"No, that wasn't done," declared Jack with conviction.
"Well, you'd gone through enough, in that drugging business, to make anybody tired enough to sleep hard," one man said. "They can't blame you."
"No indeed!" agreed another.
But Jack blamed himself. He felt that he had failed in his trust. He did not know what to do. His brain seemed incapable of thinking. If he could only catch the robber and get back the letters!
As he went along with the others over the mountain trail in the early morning, he looked eagerly about, as though he might see some sign of the much-wanted rascal. But the trail was deserted, save for the posse.
They rode into Rainbow Ridge, and that place was soon buzzing with the startling news. As soon as possible a number of men were started out through the mountains, to cover even the bridle paths and trails seldom used. All strangers who could not give a good account of themselves were to be brought into the town.
Mr. Argent was told of the stealing of the valuable letters. He looked grave when Jack explained what had taken place.
"Of course it isn't your fault, Jack," the miner said, "and I'm not in the least blaming you."
"I wanted to come through with them last night, but—"
"It probably wouldn't have done any good, and you might have been attacked and hurt. I'm glad that didn't happen. Of course losing the papers is going to make it very bad for my friends and myself in making good our claim to the mine. But it can't be helped. You did the best you could. No one could have done more. That was a plucky thing you did—tying yourself on the pony's back when you felt you were going to become unconscious."
"But it didn't result in any good in the end," said Jack bitterly. "And now
Sunger is gone, too."
"That's too bad. But still we may catch this fellow. So my package was the only one he took?"
"Well, I didn't stay until all the mail was checked up," answered Jack, "but I'm sure that was missing from the opened safe. I half hoped that this might be another dummy package," said Jack, "and that your other letters might be in the one addressed to the postmaster here."
"No such luck!" exclaimed the miner. "The package addressed to me contained the real and important letters and mine plans that I've been expecting so long. There was some stuff for me in that other package you mention, but it isn't important.
"I wish now," he went on, ruefully, "that I had had a dummy package come through. But I worked that plan once, and I didn't think it would have an effect a second time. Well, it's all in the game, and if I lose this inning I may make it up later. But whatever happens, Jack, don't in the least feel that I blame you."
"Well, it's awfully good of you to say so," replied the pony rider, "but I can't help feeling bad about it."
"Oh, I feel bad myself," the miner said. "But there's no use crying over spilled molasses."
"I think you mean milk," Jack corrected, with a smile.
"Well, perhaps I do. Anyhow the thing to do now is to see if we can't round up these fellows. For there were more than one of them, though you only saw one at the safe. I have an idea who some of them are, too."
As soon as it was seen that a hasty and quick search was not going to result in the capture of the robber and his confederates, a well-planned organized hunt was instituted, to take in as much as possible of the surrounding mountain country. Jack could not take part in this, as he had to ride the express route.
At first he feared lest he might be discharged for having been robbed, but, as a matter of fact, technically he was not in the least to blame. The matter taken was not in his charge, but was in the safe in a post office, and his responsibility ended with the delivery of the mail. Nor was Jennie Blake blamed. The post office authorities did not in the least censure her or her mother. In fact they paid them the compliment, and Jack, too, of saying that extraordinary precautions had been taken, but that the robbery had occurred in spite of them.
Another point was that no express stuff was taken, but only United States' mail. And so the express people had no complaint against Jack, or any one else, as they had lost nothing. Such being the case, there was no good reason for displacing Jack, especially as the robbery had not occurred on his route. So those who hoped to get his position were disappointed.
"You can keep right on riding for us, Jack, my boy," said Mr. Perkfeld.
"We're glad to have you. It isn't often we get as plucky a lad as you. And
when your father gets well, and wants his place back, he can have it, and
I'll find an opening for you on another route, if you like."
"I certainly would like!" Jack exclaimed, warmly.
In addition to the posse organized in Golden Crossing and Rainbow Ridge the post office authorities also sent out inspectors and detectives to try and round up the robbers. This was done the day after it occurred, so that within forty-eight hours the mountain trails were being well patrolled by men eager to apprehend the offenders. And in the mountains, off the trails, were others on the same errand. Jack wished he could be with them, but he had to keep to the mail and express route.
As far as Mr. Argent could learn, no use had yet been made of the stolen documents.
"And that is a good sign," he said to Jack. "I've been in touch with matters, and I and my friends would know as soon as some use was made of them. The people who could best use those documents would have an injunction out against us in a jiffy, and be in possession of the mine as soon as they laid their hands on the papers. But they haven't got them yet, that's sure."
"What does that mean?" asked Jack.
"Just this. Those who would gain the greatest advantage from the possession of our papers, which would give them control of the mine, didn't do the actual stealing themselves. They hired these outlaws to do it, and from the fact that no action has been taken makes me sure that the robber who blew open the safe and took the letters, has not had a chance to deliver them."
"You mean he has them in his possession yet?"
"That's about it, Jack. He is probably hiding out somewhere in the mountains, waiting for a chance to deliver them. He dare not mail them, and he can't get in touch with the rascals who hired him or worked with him. And if any of our men see him first, why we'll save the day yet."
"Good!" cried Jack. "I wish it would be my luck to nab him!"
"Yes. And I suppose you want your pony back?"
"Do I?" cried Jack, and there was no mistaking his longing.
He had provided himself with another horse to ride the mountain trail, and, though it was good, still it was not Sunger.
Mrs. Blake and Jennie were very nervous after the safe robbery, and Mrs. Blake wanted her daughter to give up the post office. But the plucky girl would not.
"They won't bother us again," she said. "It's like lightning. It won't happen the second time In the same place. I'm not afraid, though I am a little shaken."
The damage done by the explosion was soon repaired, and a new and more up-to-date safe provided by the post office department.
It was a week after this momentous occurrence that one afternoon, as Jack was riding along the trail from Golden Crossing to Rainbow Ridge, he stopped to water his horse at the lonely cabin where the old man, on the night of the chase, had told of hearing some one riding past, he thinking it was the pony express.
"Well, Jack," asked the old man, as the lad paused for a moment's chat, "they didn't catch that there safe burglar, did they?"
"No, haven't seen a trace of him, worse luck! Anybody been along to-day?"
"Why, yes, there was a feller here not long ago. He stopped for a drink, and asked for a bite to eat. He looked as if he was in hard luck."
"What sort of a fellow was he?"
"Oh well, I didn't take particular notice. He was afoot."
"Afoot?" cried Jack. "That's queer."
"I thought so myself," agreed the old man. And it was queer to see a man traveling afoot in a country where riding and driving was universal. "I asked him where his horse was, and he said down the road a piece!"
"That was also queer," Jack said. "I wonder why he didn't ride right up here? No excuse for walking when one has a horse."
"That's what I thought," the old man went on. "But I didn't want to ask too many questions. He didn't seem relishin' answerin' 'em."
"Which way was he going?" asked the pony express lad.
"Towards Rainbow Ridge. It wa'n't more'n ten minutes ago."
As Jack rode off a sudden thought came to him.
"I wonder if this could be a clew to the robber?" he asked himself. "Queer thing about his not riding his horse up to Ford's cabin. Why should he do that unless he was afraid the horse would be recognized. Why should he—Great Scott!" suddenly exclaimed Jack aloud. "I believe I know why. He had Sunger, and didn't dare let Ford see him! That's it! I believe I'm on the track of the man who has my pony and the Argent letters!"
CHAPTER XXV
JACK'S TRICK—CONCLUSION
Jack called to his horse, which really was a speedy mount.
"Come on, old boy!" he cried. "You may not be as good as Sunger, but he's had a hard time lately, being kept out among the mountains, and I don't believe he's up to the mark. We may catch him if that fellow stays to the road, though ordinarily my pony would run away from you, Dobbin."
Jack didn't care much what he called this horse. But he really liked the animal, as he did all horseflesh, and the beast responded readily to him.
On they swept down the mountain trail. Jack's eyes watched eagerly as he made turn after turn at top speed; but for some time he saw no signs of any rider ahead of him.
"There's no way of getting off on a side trail for the next half mile," reflected Jack, as he rode on. "If I can come up to him in that distance I'll have him."
He felt to see if his revolver was in readiness. He did not know just what he would do, but it was a desperate situation, or it would be if he should overtake the fellow.
And luck was with Jack—luck and good judgment. As he made the last turn in that part of the trail from which there was no escape by a side road, he saw, just ahead of him, a rider on a horse which Jack knew in a moment.
"That's Sunger!" he cried. "I've found him!"
Of course Jack could not be sure that the man on his pony was the same one who had robbed the safe. But Jack knew his own steed, and when, out West, a man is found riding a stolen horse, it is prime evidence against him. He has to prove his case, and is subject to arrest on sight. Of course he may have innocently acquired the stolen animal; but he has to prove this to be the case.
"That's my pony, and I'm going to have him back!" thought Jack. "And I'm going to get that man, too! Come on, boy!"
For one of the few times in his life Jack used the whip. But he was humane. His horse responded with a burst of speed. But now the man ahead, hearing galloping hoofs behind him, urged on Sunger. And Sunger still could run. Though Jack saw, with regret, that his pony had suffered, still the wonderful speed of the animal had abated but little.
"He's going to get away from me!" cried the lad, as he saw how Sunger was running. "And that's the man, else why should he try to escape?"
Then Jack began to think quickly. He had trained Sunger to halt instantly when he called "Whoa!" to him, in a certain tone. If the animal were going at top speed, and Jack yelled that word, Sunger would brace up with his fore feet, slide with his hind ones, and bring up standing, like a train of cars when the engineer throws on the emergency air brakes.
Of course Jack was never in the saddle when he worked this trick with Sunger. Had he been he might have been hurt. But he had given his pony this training so that in going down dangerous slopes Sunger would know how to bring himself suddenly to a halt.
"I wonder if I can make him hear," thought Jack. "If I can, and if he'll stop, there'll be something doing in a minute."
Jack saw that he could not hope to overtake the man ahead of him by an ordinary chase. The horse the pony rider bestrode was not fast enough. And a short distance ahead was a place on the trail where the suspect could escape by a side path.
"Here goes!" murmured Jack.
In his loudest voice he cried out:
"Whoa, Sunger!"
Something happened at once. The pony, which had been running his best in order not to let the horse behind pass him, pulled up so short that the man was flung with great force from the saddle, and over Sunger's head. Over he went, vainly trying to save himself, and the next moment he landed heavily on the side of the trail and did not move.
"Well, I guess that ends your riding for a time," thought Jack, grimly. Then he rode forward while Sunger, with a whinny of delight, turned back to meet his master.
"Oh, Sunger! Sunger, old boy! You did it!" cried Jack. Then his heart smote him as he saw the motionless figure beside the trail.
Pausing only a moment to caress his recovered pony, Jack hastened to the side of the man who had been thrown off by Sunger's sudden stopping. The fellow was a stranger to Jack, who could not tell whether or not he was the post office robber. The man was unconscious, and, with little compunction, Jack rapidly searched through his pockets.
In an inner one he came upon a package. With beating heart Jack pulled out the bundle. He knew it in a moment. It was the packet of letters addressed to Mr. Argent. A look at the seals convinced the lad that they had not been broken.
"Talk about luck!" he cried, "I'm certainly in it to-day! I've got Sunger, got the papers back, and caught the robber, too. At least I think he must be the safe-cracker, though I can't be sure. I've got him right! Sunger, old boy, we worked the trick to perfection!"
Jack thrust the strangely-recovered package into his pocket, and then gave more attention to the man. He lay senseless, and from the manner in which one leg was doubled up under him Jack felt sure it was broken.
"But it couldn't be helped," he mused. "I had to stop you, and you brought it on yourself. I'll go and get help for you, though."
Jack worked quickly. His first care was for his pony, who was delightedly rubbing his velvet nose against his master. Sunger did not appear to have suffered so much as Jack had feared.
"I guess you can ride trail yet," Jack mused. "I'll use you in place of
Dobbin."
He transferred the mail sacks to his own pony, and then rode back to the cabin, taking the other horse with him.
"For you might come to, and manage to ride off," Jack said looking at the unconscious man. But the fellow did not. He was still senseless when the help sent by Jack reached him.
As for our hero, he rode post-haste into Rainbow Ridge, where, after stopping but a moment to tell his father the good news, he hastened to deliver the recovered packet to Mr. Argent and tell his news.
"Say, you don't mean to say you have it Jack!" cried the miner. "Why, that's great! And it's all here, too—every paper!" he added as he broke the seals and made a quick examination. "Now everything will be all right, and we'll start to work the mine. That fellow you caught didn't have time to deliver the goods and didn't dare go where he could do so. It was a great trick! Great!"
Jack was pretty well pleased with himself.
The rest of the story is soon told. The man whom Jack had caught by the trick of making the pony stop suddenly was not mortally hurt, though a broken leg, and other injuries laid him up for some time. He confessed he was the safe-robber, and a member of the outlaw gang that had been engaged by the enemies of Mr. Argent to get possession of the papers.
And, as the miner had surmised, the trails had been so quickly and closely watched and guarded, that he had had no chance to communicate with those who engaged him, to give them the papers he stole from the safe. He and Ryan, as well as others, had worked together to waylay Jack, or, in any manner they could, get possession of the documents.
This much was learned from the man's confession, and, though he did not disclose the whereabouts of his confederates, they were captured a little later, and sent to prison for long terms. Jack's testimony went far in this, for he identified Ryan, as well as the bogus post office inspector, who was also one of the men who held him up.
Ryan was among the first arrested, and admitted that he had planned for some time to drug Jack, and had seen his opportunity the day the pony went lame.
Not only was Mr. Argent's mine secured to him, and the pony express route rendered safe by the capture of the outlaw band, but several other crimes in the vicinity were cleared up. The gang was at the bottom of them.
"Well, I only wish I could be cleared of suspicion in that Harrington matter," said Mr. Bailey one day, a month or so later, when he had so far recovered that he was thinking of going back to the pony express route.
"Maybe you will be. The trials of those fellows aren't ended yet," Jack said. "Maybe something will come out in them."
And that is just what happened. In the testimony, it was brought out that, for some time, confederates of the outlaws, of whom Jake Tantrell was one, had been trying to get for one of their number the position of pony express rider. They thought if they did this they would have no trouble in robbing the mail.
One of these unscrupulous men was responsible for the leakage of the information contained in the Harrington letter. This was admitted, and Mr. Bailey was cleared of all blame in the matter.
It was Tantrell, too, who loosened the planks in the bridge, just as Jack suspected.
"Well, that makes me feel fine!" Mr. Bailey said, when the good news came to him. "It's all your doings, Jack, catching that fellow!"
"No, it's Sunger's," Jack said, with a laugh. "If he hadn't learned the trick of stopping suddenly the man might have gotten away, and the mine might have been lost to Mr. Argent."
"But it wasn't lost," said the miner, "and as a little reward for your pluck and services, Jack, I'm going to give you a small interest in one of my mines, for I have two."
"Oh, I don't want any reward!"
"But you're going to need it some day. You can save the income for the time when you'll want to get married; eh?" and he pinched Jennie's blushing cheek.
Jennie didn't say anything. But she looked at Jack, and he would have blushed as red as she, only he could not. He was too tanned.
In due time Mr. Bailey fully recovered, and was able to take up his former work of riding pony express. Jack regretted giving it up, glad as he was to have his father out again. But Mr. Perkfeld was as good as his word, and Jack soon had another route to ride, and one where he could see Jennie nearly as often as before.
Jennie still kept her place as postmistress at Golden Crossing, but there was no more danger from the outlaws or the bogus inspector, as they had the prospect of long terms in prison before them.
"And when they do come out you won't be working in the office here any more," said Jack, with a smile.
"How do you know?" Jennie asked demurely.
"Oh, I just guess it," was the answer, and he looked at Jennie in a way that meant a good deal.