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.
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.”
