Books: Jack of the Pony Express
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Frank V. Webster >> Jack of the Pony Express
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"Oh, no indeed!" Jennie answered. "We like it too well here. But mother has
a chance to do some sewing, at which she can make some much-needed money,
and she realized that she would be too busy at that to look after the post
office properly. So I said I'd apply for the place. I know all about the
work," Jennie went on, "for whenever mother went away I used to look after
the mail. Tim does the heavy work, lifting the pouches and packages and all
that," and she indicated a red-haired and freckled lad named Timothy
Mullane, a genial Irish chap, who did odd jobs around the post office, and
in the settlement of Golden Crossing.
"So, with Tim to help me, I felt that I might just as well be the
full-fledged postmistress," the girl went on. "As soon as mother had
arranged to do this sewing I applied for the place to the President--"
"To the President--in Washington?" cried Jack, in surprise.
"Well, I wrote to the President, though I don't suppose he ever saw my
letter," Jennie said. "I thought he appointed all postmasters and
postmistresses. But I had an answer from some official of the post office
department, and I received the appointment!" she laughed in conclusion.
"So after this, Mr. Jack Bailey, of the pony express, you'll get the mail
from me and deliver it to me."
"No greater pleasure, I'm sure," Jack answered with a low bow, and he also
laughed. "When did all this happen?" he asked.
"The letter came yesterday," Jennie answered.
"And I received my temporary appointment this morning," Jack said. "You
didn't beat me by very much, Jennie! Shake!" and with true western good
fellowship, Jack held out his hand, meeting the warm clasp of the pretty
and smiling girl.
The two young persons found much to talk about. Jennie was sorry to hear of
the illness of "Uncle Pete," as she called him, and when her mother came in
to greet Jack, Mrs. Blake had to hear the whole story over again.
Mrs. Blake was a widow, whose husband had been killed in a mining accident.
She was left with Jennie, then a little girl, to bring up, and friends
secured for her the place as postmistress of Golden Crossing. She managed
to make a living from the money received in this way, and from the sewing
she was able to do for the residents of the settlement.
And now, as she explained to Jack, her needlework would take up much of her
time, so she and Jennie planned that the latter should be made postmistress
so that she could act officially when her mother was not on hand.
"Of course, I'll help her, Jack," Mrs. Blake said, "for it isn't easy for a
young girl to have to do this work."
"And I'll help, too!" cried the young pony express rider.
"I knew you would, Cousin Jack!" Jennie exclaimed, clapping her hands. "But
now we must talk business. Let me have your slips to sign, and here is a
registered letter that you'd better put in an inside pocket where the stage
robbers won't find it," and she laughed merrily at her joke.
There was considerable routine work attached to the post office and to the
pony express route, and for some time Jack and Jennie were busy over this.
The mail and express matter which Jack had brought in on the back of his
pony, Sunger, had already been sent off on the outgoing stage.
"Will you ride back to-night, after the other stage comes in, or will you
stay here?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"I guess I'll stay," Jack said. "But I can go back as far as Painted Post,"
naming a mountain settlement a few miles east of Golden Crossing. "I
stopped there on my way here, and Harry Ward said he was going to ride in
to Rainbow Ridge to a dance to-night. I can have him take a message for me,
saying the mail will be late. And he can also tell my father that I'll stay
over night, and be in early to-morrow morning."
"That would be a good idea," said Mrs. Blake. "We'll try and make you
comfortable, Jack."
"Oh, you won't have to try very hard," he laughed. Jennie blushed and
smiled, and Mrs. Blake looked wise.
Jack spent that afternoon helping Jennie straighten up her post office, for
she had determined on a new arrangement of tables and desks, which Mrs.
Blake had never had time to settle on.
"It's your post office, Jennie," her mother remarked. "Do just as you
please as far as the regulations permit."
The in-coming mail was later than had been reported, and did not arrive
until nearly dark. In such cases, when a night trip would be necessary over
the mountain trail between Golden Crossing and Rainbow Ridge, the pony
express rider was permitted to postpone his trip until the next day. The
trail was rather dangerous at night, though on occasions, when there had
been a bright moon and some important letters and express packages had come
in, Mr. Bailey made the night trip. Jack had done so once, but he did not
greatly care to do so again.
"But if there were any need of it I'd do it now," he said, though he would
have regretted leaving Jennie, with the prospect of a pleasant evening in
her company.
However, as it happened, there was nothing of such importance that it could
not wait over until the next day, so Jack did not have to ride away. He put
up his pony in the express stable, and he and Jennie spent a pleasant
evening together.
Jack was a little worried about his father, and made an early start the
next morning, carrying the mail and expressage. He made a quick trip and
was relieved, on stopping off for a moment at the Watson cabin, to find
that his father had passed a fairly comfortable night, and was considerably
better.
"But he can't ride the trail yet," said Mrs. Watson.
"And I don't intend to let him!" exclaimed Jack. "I'm going to be the pony
rider for a while."
Dr. Brown confirmed what he had at first said--that Mr. Bailey would be ill
for a long time, and when this had become known Jack at once made
arrangements to be permanently named as rider between Rainbow Ridge and
Golden Crossing. Mr. Perkfeld agreed to this, but, most unexpectedly, some
opposition developed among the members of the express firm. It appeared
that one of the stockholders wanted the place of express rider for a
relative of his. There were several others who wanted the place, and there
was quite a scramble for it.
But Jack really had the most logical claim to it, and, as Mr. Perkfeld was
able to make the appointment, at least for the time being, it came to Jack.
But there was bitter feeling against him on the part of some unscrupulous
men who wanted the place, for it paid well and carried some privileges. It
was also an honor.
"You want to watch yourself, son," said Mr. Bailey, rather weakly, to Jack
one day, before the lad was about to set out on his ride to Golden
Crossing. "Watch yourself, for there is no telling what tricks some of
those fellows may be up to."
"Tricks, Dad? What do you mean?" asked Jack in wonder.
"Well, I mean they might try to do something to discredit you. Try to make
you late with the mail, or even have you lose a valuable letter or package.
They might think, if you failed to deliver promptly, you would lose the
place, and they'd have a chance. So be careful. Hold on to it, for I'll
need it when I get well again. My illness is going to cost a pile of
money."
"Don't you worry about that Dad!" exclaimed the young mountain trail rider.
"I'll watch out, and they won't catch me napping!"
He rode off up the road, followed by the fond looks of his father.
"He's a good boy," murmured Mr. Bailey, "A good boy!"
Once again the in-stage to Golden Crossing was late, but as Jack was told
by Jennie on his arrival at her post office that several important pieces
of mail were expected, he decided to ride back with the pouches, even if it
was after dark.
"There's half a moon," he said, "and I know the trail like a book. I'll
make a night ride of it."
While waiting for the stage to come in Jack remained about the post office.
Among those who came in for mail was Jake Tantrell, one of the men who had
tried unsuccessfully to get Jack's place.
"Goin' back to-night?" he inquired casually.
"Yes," Jack answered. "Anything you want carried?"
"No," was the surly answer. "An' if I had I wouldn't trust a kid like you
with it! It's a man's job to ride pony express, an' I'm surprised that they
let you have the place."
"Oh, if that's the way you feel about it, I don't want to take any of your
stuff," snapped Jack, filled with indignation. "But I've made good so far,
and I expect to keep on."
"Huh! Maybe you will, an' maybe you won't!" was the snarling retort.
It was quite dark when Jack finally started with the mail. He also had
several express packages, one of which was securely sealed, indicating that
it contained valuables.
"Guess I'll stow that away in an inside pocket," Jack said to himself, and
he suited the action to the words.
The first part of the trail leading out from Golden Crossing was not
especially bad, and Jack ambled along it slowly enough. About two miles out
from the settlement he had to cross, on a rather frail wooden bridge, a
rushing mountain stream.
As Jack neared the middle of the bridge he felt a plank suddenly give way
with the pony. In an instant he clapped his heels to the side of the horse,
and slapped him sharply on the flank.
Sunger sprang forward, and only just in time, for in another second he
would have stepped through a hole in the bridge where a plank had fallen
off into the stream below. And had the pony fallen Jack would probably have
been thrown over the bridge railing into the water.
CHAPTER IV
IMPORTANT LETTERS
"Whoa! Steady old boy! Easy now!"
Thus Jack exclaimed, as he leaped from the Saddle and held the reins
lightly to restrain Sunger.
The pony snorted, whinnied, and, after prancing about a few moments, stood
still.
"That's better!" commented Jack. "Now let's see what happened."
There was, as Jack said, "half a moon," and by the light of this he was
able to see, as he glanced over the part of the bridge he had traversed, a
place where a plank had fallen out. A gap was left--a gap wide enough to
have allowed a horse's leg to slip through, with disastrous results to
animal and rider.
"Well, Sunger, old boy," went on Jack, "did we do that; did it just happen
of itself; or was it done on purpose?"
For, in a second's flash, there had come to him his father's warning.
"Well, if it's some one after my job, it's a mean trick they have played in
trying to get it," mused Jack, aloud. "I wouldn't so much mind for myself,
for I guess I could have swum out all right. But I guess you'd have been
pretty well banged up, old boy," and he patted his pony, which now had
gotten over his first fright.
Jack, whose wildly-beating heart had now somewhat calmed itself, stood
beside his faithful pony and considered what his next move had best be.
Among other thoughts was the one that he must, in some way, repair the
bridge so that any one coming after him would not slip through the holes
left where the misplaced planks had fallen into the stream.
"I can get a couple of logs or some big branches in the woods," thought
Jack, "and stick them in the holes."
Instinctively he looked to see if the mail and express pouches were safe.
Yes, there they were on the saddle front. None of them had slipped off when
the pony rider himself had so narrowly escaped.
Then, with a quick motion, Jack's hand went to the breast pocket of his
coat, where he had placed the small, sealed express package. To his
consternation he felt no bulky protuberance there, such as would have been
made by the parcel.
"Whew!" whistled Jack. "Great Scott! I hope I haven't lost that!"
It was very possible that he might have done so, for he remembered pitching
forward on his pony's neck, as he leaned over to save himself. The package
could easily have slipped from his pocket.
In a veritable frenzy of alarm, Jack rapidly searched through his other
pockets, thinking he might, by some chance, have thrust the valuable parcel
into one other than the first he had selected as being the most secure. But
it was not to be found.
"Just my luck!" he cried aloud. "It's lost. This will end my services as a
pony express rider!"
His steed whinnied, thinking, perhaps, that his master might have been
speaking to him, as Jack frequently did. Indeed, the lad often talked to
his horse as one might to a human being, and Jack stoutly maintained that
Sunger understood as much if not more than some people.
"Well, if it's gone, it's gone," Jack said, sadly enough "And it wasn't my
fault, either. I couldn't know those planks in the bridge were loose. It's
lucky Sunger felt them giving in time, and gave me the alarm, or we might
both be lying somewhere with broken legs, if not worse."
He glanced back to the place where the accident had so nearly occurred. In
the gleam of the moon he could see two black streaks in the otherwise level
flooring of the bridge, the planks of which were white from the bleaching
of the sun and the dust of the mountain trail.
"That's where I nearly went through," mused Jack. Hardly had the thought
come to him than he saw, lying on the very edge of one of the black
openings, a small, light object.
"Jove! If that could be it!" he murmured. Cautiously he started toward it,
in fear lest the vibration of his steps jar the sealed packet into the
stream, for that it was the sealed packet Jack now felt sure.
As the lad started forward his horse followed him, so well trained was
Sunger.
"No; stay back, old fellow!" Jack exclaimed. The pony, whinnying, obeyed.
Jack noticed that one of the mail bags was hanging loose, as if about to
fall, but he reasoned that he could fasten that securely after he had
learned whether or not the white object was the package missing from his
pocket.
Cautiously he approached, and there, lying on the very verge of one of the
openings made by the missing planks, was the packet, which Jack was sure
contained jewelry, if not money.
"Well, if this isn't lucky!" he cried, as he picked it up, and thrust it
into the bottom of his inside vest pocket. "Just pure luck! You won't get
out again," he added, patting the package.
It was the work of but a few minutes to drag from the nearby woods some big
branches to fill in the holes left by the missing planks. Of course, the
branches did not make the bridge secure, but they could easily be seen,
even after the moon went down, and would warn chance passersby of the
danger. There was a chance that some one might come after Jack passed,
though the pony express trail was one not often followed after nightfall.
Jack tried to ascertain by careful looking how the planks had come to give
way under the hoofs of his steed. But there was no clew that he could
discover. The bridge was not a carefully made one, and it would have been
an easy matter for any one to so loosen a couple of the planks that the
least motion would send them into the stream below.
"But who would want to do a thing like that?" Jack reasoned. "I might have
been killed, and so might Sunger. Well, all's well that ends well, I guess.
Now I'd better be getting along."
The bridge was as secure as Jack could make it in his haste, and having
made sure that nothing was missing from the mail and express pouches, and
fastening them securely, he mounted his horse again, and set off at a
lively pace. For a while he was worried lest his pony might have strained a
shoulder or a tendon, but Sunger appeared to be none the worse for the
adventure.
Jack rode on, and had covered about half the distance to Rainbow Ridge when
he heard, on the trail ahead of him, the sounds of other hoof-beats. At
first he thought it might be the echo of his own, but a moment of listening
told him it was some one else on the road,
"I wonder who it can be," he asked himself.
He saw a few minutes later. It was Jake Tantrell, the man who had sneered
at him--the man who was anxious to have his place. Was it fancy, or did
Tantrell start and draw back his horse at sight of Jack.
"Look out for the bridge," Jack called as he passed the man, making up his
mind, even though the fellow had scorned him, that he could do no less than
warn him. "A couple of planks gave way with me a while ago."
"Oh--er--they did! Planks gave way?" Tantrell stammered.
"Yes," Jack said. "I nearly had a bad fall."
He said nothing about the dropped package.
"Well, that's too bad," the man said. "They ought to fix that bridge."
"Some one did," said Jack.
"Eh? What's that?"
"I said some one did. I mean some one fixed it for me, I think."
"What--what do you mean?"
"I mean those planks never came loose by themselves. I stuck a couple of
branches in the holes. Look out when you ride over."
"Oh--I--I will. Thanks!" the man exclaimed, almost as an afterthought.
Then Jack rode on, and Tantrell passed him, giving the lad a sharp glance
in the gloom, for the moon was now down below the hills.
Rather shaken by his night's adventure, and a bit anxious, Jack finally
reached his own cottage. He turned in there, preferring to do so rather
than to awaken Mrs. Watson and her family at this hour, though he was
anxious to know how his father was feeling.
"But I guess he must be all right, or they'd have sent me some word,"
reasoned Jack.
He put his horse in the stable, and, after a hasty lunch from the cupboard,
turned into his own room, and slept soundly until morning. He was up early
in order to deliver the mail for the stage which would soon go out, and
among the things he turned over to the driver was the package that had so
nearly been lost.
"I'm glad to get rid of that," he said to Jed Monty. "It looks as if it's
worth something," and he pointed to the many seals.
"That's so, it does," Jed replied. "Guess I'll stow it in a safe place
myself."
Jack gave a warning about the missing planks of the bridge, and the road
commissioner promised to have repairs made. The lad said nothing of his
suspicions that the planks had intentionally been loosened, for he felt it
would do no good.
"I'll just keep my eyes open myself," he reasoned, "and maybe I can find
out a few things. It might be that some one who wants to be a pony express
rider in my place might try to make trouble for me in that way. Maybe they
didn't actually want to harm me or my horse, but they might have wanted me
to lose some mail. But I didn't!"
For the next few days nothing of moment occurred. Jack rode the trail
without anything happening to him, and there were only light loads to
carry. His father improved slightly, but Dr. Brown predicted that it would
be at least two months before he could be out.
At Golden Crossing Jennie was busy with her post office duties, but she
found time to spend a few hours with Jack when he was at the settlement.
It was one morning when the young rider went to the Mansion Hotel, as the
one hostelry in Rainbow Ridge was called, that Samuel Argent, who had once
been a prominent miner, but who had lost several fortunes, came to the
stage station and post office with several letters in his hand. Each one
was sealed with red wax.
"Going to make the trip straight through today, Jack?" he asked, for he
knew the lad slightly, though better acquainted with his father.
"Yes, I expect to, Mr. Argent," was the answer. "Is there anything I can do
for you?" Jack often executed small commissions, for which he was paid
extra.
"Well, this is in your regular line," the miner said, "but I have some
important letters here, and I'd rather give them to you, personally, than
put them in the mail. I'd like to have you hand them over to the Golden
Crossing stage man and--"
At that moment a man came running out of the hotel. He waved his hand to
Mr. Argent.
"Don't send those letters!" he exclaimed, and he seemed quite excited.
"Hold 'em! Don't let Jack take 'em!"
CHAPTER V
JUST IN TIME
Mr. Argent paused in the act of handing the sealed documents to the young
pony express rider, and turned to look at the man who had called to him.
Jack recognized him as a mining expert who did assaying. He had not lived
in Rainbow Ridge long, but he had done considerable work elsewhere for Mr.
Argent.
"What's that you said?" inquired the miner.
"I said, don't send those letters by Jack!"
The young pony rider felt the hot blood come into his cheeks. To him there
seemed to be but one meaning in the warning. He was being distrusted. The
service which he performed in riding at top speed from Rainbow Ridge to
Golden Crossing was under suspicion.
Was this because of the letter that had put his father under suspicion--the
Harrington epistle--or was it because of false reports being spread by
those who wanted Jack's place?
Something of what was passing through Jack's mind seemed to communicate
itself to the mining assayist, whose name was Payson Wayde. He smiled at
our hero, and said:
"Don't worry, my lad. It isn't that I think you wouldn't carry the mail
safely. It's that I have just heard something," he went on, turning to Mr.
Argent, "that makes it advisable to postpone the sending of those letters
now. Hold them until we can investigate a bit."
"Oh, that's different," the miner said. "I thought from the way you spoke
that you didn't want Jack to take them."
"Well, I don't; that is, I don't want him to take them just yet. Perhaps
you won't want to send them for a week or more after you hear what I have
to say," he went on to his employer. "But when we do send them you shall
take them, Jack," he said, with a smile of confidence.
The young pony express lad felt better on hearing this.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked the two men.
"Not this trip, Jack, I guess," was the answer from Mr. Argent. "I may have
something for you day after to-morrow, though. Not these letters, but some
more samples I want checked up. I'll see you on your return trip."
"All right, Mr. Argent. Then I'll be getting along." And, having secured
his pouches of mail and express stuff to the saddle, Jack leaped to the
back of Sunger and was off at a gallop.
"A fine lad," murmured Mr. Wayde to the miner, as they turned back to the
hotel.
"Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going to hurt his feelings by saying it
wouldn't be safe to send mail by him."
"Oh, no, indeed. I guess you can trust him, can't you?"
"I should say so! Jack is really doing his father's work, you see, Mr.
Bailey being laid up with a severe illness. Jack is working hard to make
good on this express route, and I'd hate to see him lose it, though there
are several around here who would be glad to take his place. But what's
up--why didn't you want me to mail these letters, after our agreement of
last night?"
"I'll tell you. I think some of your enemies have gotten wind of what is
going on."
"You mean about the new claim I'm going to stake?"
"Hush!" the other cautioned him. "No use in talking secrets out here. Come
to my room and I'll tell you all about it. Perhaps it may be well to take
Jack Bailey into your confidence a little later. You can decide on that
after I've told you just what came to me."
"Well, it all seems a bit mysterious," commented Mr. Argent, "but maybe you
know what you're talking about."
And as Jack rode off on his usual trip, the two mining men went into the
hotel deeply engaged in conversation.
Jack had several stops to make that morning before getting on the more
lonesome part of the trail, where he could give Sunger free rein to make as
good time as possible. In some places this would only be a walk, for the
road was treacherous and difficult. In other places along a comparatively
level slope, or down grade, Sunger would make up for lost time.
As Jack made a turn in the road, he saw, riding ahead of him, two men on
horseback. They turned in their saddles at the sound of his steed's
hoof-beats, and Jack recognized one of the men as Jake Tantrell. The other
man was a stranger to the pony rider.
"I hope Jake doesn't take it into his head to give me some mean talk now,"
mused Jack.
He made up his mind not to speak to the fellow, but he reckoned without
Jake. For as Jack came up the bully held up a hand as a signal to halt.
Jack was not a little apprehensive at first, but Jake, in surly tones, only
asked:
"You got anything for me?"
"Not this trip," answered Jack.
"Well, I'm expectin' a package and it ought to be here. Keep your eyes open
for it, young feller, and don't lose it," was the unnecessary caution.
"It's a valuable package."
"I'm not in the habit of losing things," Jack answered, with dignity. As he
rode on he heard the stranger remark to Jake:
"They ought to be there now?" oughtn't they?"
"Yes," was the reply. "They ought to be there now. But I'm not so sure
they'll get what they want. She's a plucky little girl, and she may be so
spunky she won't answer their questions."
"Well, they know how to make her," responded the stranger.
"Humph!" mused Jack, as he heard this. "I wonder who it is they are going
to try to make answer questions? A spunky little girl, so Jake said. I
wonder--"
It suddenly flashed into his mind.
"Could it be Jennie? She's in the post office, and she's sometimes there
alone! If some one should try to find out something about the mail or
express business they had no right to know!"
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