At that moment a man came running out of the hotel.
He waved his hand to Mr. Argent.
“Don’t send those letters!” he exclaimed,
and he seemed quite excited. “Hold ’em!
Don’t let Jack take ’em!”
JUST IN TIME
Mr. Argent paused in the act of handing the sealed
documents to the young pony express rider, and turned
to look at the man who had called to him. Jack
recognized him as a mining expert who did assaying.
He had not lived in Rainbow Ridge long, but he had
done considerable work elsewhere for Mr. Argent.
“What’s that you said?” inquired
the miner.
“I said, don’t send those letters by Jack!”
The young pony rider felt the hot blood come into
his cheeks. To him there seemed to be but one
meaning in the warning. He was being distrusted.
The service which he performed in riding at top speed
from Rainbow Ridge to Golden Crossing was under suspicion.
Was this because of the letter that had put his father
under suspicion—the Harrington epistle—or
was it because of false reports being spread by those
who wanted Jack’s place?
Something of what was passing through Jack’s
mind seemed to communicate itself to the mining assayist,
whose name was Payson Wayde. He smiled at our
hero, and said:
“Don’t worry, my lad. It isn’t
that I think you wouldn’t carry the mail safely.
It’s that I have just heard something,”
he went on, turning to Mr. Argent, “that makes
it advisable to postpone the sending of those letters
now. Hold them until we can investigate a bit.”
“Oh, that’s different,” the miner
said. “I thought from the way you spoke
that you didn’t want Jack to take them.”
“Well, I don’t; that is, I don’t
want him to take them just yet. Perhaps you won’t
want to send them for a week or more after you hear
what I have to say,” he went on to his employer.
“But when we do send them you shall take them,
Jack,” he said, with a smile of confidence.
The young pony express lad felt better on hearing
this.
“Is there anything I can do for you?”
he asked the two men.
“Not this trip, Jack, I guess,” was the
answer from Mr. Argent. “I may have something
for you day after to-morrow, though. Not these
letters, but some more samples I want checked up.
I’ll see you on your return trip.”
“All right, Mr. Argent. Then I’ll
be getting along.” And, having secured
his pouches of mail and express stuff to the saddle,
Jack leaped to the back of Sunger and was off at a
gallop.
“A fine lad,” murmured Mr. Wayde to the
miner, as they turned back to the hotel.
“Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going
to hurt his feelings by saying it wouldn’t be
safe to send mail by him.”
“Oh, no, indeed. I guess you can trust
him, can’t you?”
“I should say so! Jack is really doing
his father’s work, you see, Mr. Bailey being
laid up with a severe illness. Jack is working
hard to make good on this express route, and I’d
hate to see him lose it, though there are several
around here who would be glad to take his place.
But what’s up—why didn’t you
want me to mail these letters, after our agreement
of last night?”
