“They won’t bother us again,” she
said. “It’s like lightning. It
won’t happen the second time In the same place.
I’m not afraid, though I am a little shaken.”
The damage done by the explosion was soon repaired,
and a new and more up-to-date safe provided by the
post office department.
It was a week after this momentous occurrence that
one afternoon, as Jack was riding along the trail
from Golden Crossing to Rainbow Ridge, he stopped
to water his horse at the lonely cabin where the old
man, on the night of the chase, had told of hearing
some one riding past, he thinking it was the pony
express.
“Well, Jack,” asked the old man, as the
lad paused for a moment’s chat, “they
didn’t catch that there safe burglar, did they?”
“No, haven’t seen a trace of him, worse
luck! Anybody been along to-day?”
“Why, yes, there was a feller here not long
ago. He stopped for a drink, and asked for a
bite to eat. He looked as if he was in hard luck.”
“What sort of a fellow was he?”
“Oh well, I didn’t take particular notice.
He was afoot.”
“Afoot?” cried Jack. “That’s
queer.”
“I thought so myself,” agreed the old
man. And it was queer to see a man traveling
afoot in a country where riding and driving was universal.
“I asked him where his horse was, and he said
down the road a piece!”
“That was also queer,” Jack said.
“I wonder why he didn’t ride right up
here? No excuse for walking when one has a horse.”
“That’s what I thought,” the old
man went on. “But I didn’t want to
ask too many questions. He didn’t seem
relishin’ answerin’ ’em.”
“Which way was he going?” asked the pony
express lad.
“Towards Rainbow Ridge. It wa’n’t
more’n ten minutes ago.”
As Jack rode off a sudden thought came to him.
“I wonder if this could be a clew to the robber?”
he asked himself. “Queer thing about his
not riding his horse up to Ford’s cabin.
Why should he do that unless he was afraid the horse
would be recognized. Why should he—Great
Scott!” suddenly exclaimed Jack aloud. “I
believe I know why. He had Sunger, and didn’t
dare let Ford see him! That’s it! I
believe I’m on the track of the man who has
my pony and the Argent letters!”
JACK’S TRICK—CONCLUSION
Jack called to his horse, which really was a speedy
mount.
“Come on, old boy!” he cried. “You
may not be as good as Sunger, but he’s had a
hard time lately, being kept out among the mountains,
and I don’t believe he’s up to the mark.
We may catch him if that fellow stays to the road,
though ordinarily my pony would run away from you,
Dobbin.”
Jack didn’t care much what he called this horse.
But he really liked the animal, as he did all horseflesh,
and the beast responded readily to him.
On they swept down the mountain trail. Jack’s
eyes watched eagerly as he made turn after turn at
top speed; but for some time he saw no signs of any
rider ahead of him.
