“I’ll get Sunger,” he told himself,
speaking aloud, a habit engendered by the lonliness
of the mountains. “He’s quite a way
off yet, but Sunger will make short work of the distance.”
Though the sound of the approaching footsteps of the
horse of the pony express rider could be plainly heard
by Jack, so clear and resonant was the mountain air,
he realized that his father had yet nearly half a mile
to travel.
Leaping to the saddle of his pony, and patting the
animal lovingly on the neck, Jack set off once more.
He went quickly, for Sunger was fresh and eager.
In a few minutes Jack turned at a place where the
trail followed a great rocky ledge, and in front of
him, almost collapsed in the saddle was a man.
He seemed to sit on his horse only by a great effort,
and on his face was a drawn look of pain.
“Why, Dad!” cried Jack. “What’s
the matter? Has anything happened? Did they
hold up the mail?”
“No, the mail and other stuff is all right,”
was the answer, broken by an exclamation of pain.
“But I’m all in, Jack. I’m afraid
I’m going to be quite ill. It was all I
could do to ride the last few miles, but I wouldn’t
give in.”
Jack was at his father’s side in an instant.
“Get on Sunger,” he urged. “He’s
easier for you to ride. Let me help you.
What is the trouble? How did it happen?”
“I don’t know, Jack, my boy. But
I won’t change horses. I can keep on until
I get to the cabin. Here, you take the mail and
express and ride on with it to the stage. I’ll
keep on toward home. Come back as soon as you
can, and you—you’d better bring the
doctor with you!” he faltered.
POSTMISTRESS JENNIE
For a moment Jack Bailey did not know what to do.
He looked at his father, who was evidently quite ill
and suffering much pain. Then the lad glanced
at the bags of mail and small express matter which
lay over the saddle in front of Mr. Bailey.
“Take the mail, Jack, my boy!” the pony
express rider exclaimed, with an effort. “Take
the mail, so the stage can get off. I’m
late now, but I couldn’t make the trail any
faster. Get the mail through, and then stop and
bring a doctor back with you if he’ll come.”
“But I can’t go away and leave you like
this, Dad!”
“You must, Jack!”
“But you’re too ill!”
“That can’t be helped. The mail and
express must go through on time if I’m to keep
the contract. And I certainly don’t want
to lose it. I’ll manage to get to the cottage.
Once there, I can sit down, and if I get a cup of hot
tea I may feel better. It seems to be acute indigestion,
though I don’t remember eating anything that
didn’t agree with me. But ride on, Jack.
And don’t worry. I’ll get to the
cottage all right and be there when you come back.”
“All right, Dad! I’ll do it.
But I sure do hate to leave you like this!”
