“I wonder if the important letters can be in
this bag,” mused Jack, as he urged Sunger onward.
There was no way of telling.
The stage, as the messenger had said, had broken down
half way between Bosford and Tuckerton. These
were two small settlements, the last one being about
three miles from Golden Crossing.
As Jack was passing through the eastern outskirts
of Tuckerton he noticed that Sunger was limping slightly.
“Hello! What’s this? Got a stone
under your shoe?” he exclaimed, as he got off.
He made an examination and found that such was the
case. Sunger had gone lame, though not so badly
but that, with the removal of the stone, the animal
could be ridden.
“I’ll fix you up,” Jack said, as
he guided the pony to a shady spot on the trail, and
proceeded to get out a simple kit he carried with him
for emergencies.
AN INVITATION DECLINED
Jack’s first idea was that he could soon and
easily remove from between the hoof and shoe the small
stone that was making his pony lame. But when
he got to work at it, with a peculiarly shaped hook,
such as is used for that purpose, the lad found the
work was going to take longer than he had anticipated.
“But it’s got to be done, old boy,”
he said, addressing the little horse. “It’s
got to be done, and I’ve got to do it. I
can’t very well walk you to the blacksmith shop
back in town, for you’d be lamer than ever, and
I’d probably have to stable you; and I can’t
leave you with the mail and go and get the smith to
come out here. So I’ve got to do the work
myself. I’ll be a little late with the
mail, but it can’t be helped.”
Jack realized that he would have a good excuse to
offer for not getting back to Rainbow Ridge on time,
as he had had to go out of his usual route to bring
in the mail to Golden Crossing, which was still some
miles away.
“They can’t expect me to do two men’s
work in the time of one, and especially when my pony
goes lame,” Jack murmured, as he worked over
the stone, which persisted in staying where it had
become wedged.
“Well, old boy, I don’t seem to be coming
along very fast,” Jack went on, as he sat down
to rest, for the day was hot, and, in spite of being
in the shade, he felt the heat very much.
“I don’t want to loosen your shoe too
much, or it will come off, and then I’d be in
a worse pickle than ever,” he continued, talking
aloud, as he frequently did when on the trail.
“And yet if I don’t, I can’t see
how I’m going to get at that stone. Well,
we’ll have another try in a minute.”
Sunger did not seem to mind the rest. He began
quietly cropping grass by the wayside when Jack let
down the hoof in which the stone was imbedded.
As long as the pony rested no weight on that foot
he was all right. It was when he walked or galloped
with Jack and the sacks of mail on his back, bringing
pressure to bear, that the lameness was noticeable.
