“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.
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.
