Books: Jack of the Pony Express
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Frank V. Webster >> Jack of the Pony Express
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"What--what does this mean?" faltered Jack, though he could pretty well
guess.
"Huh! Don't you know?" was the question shot back at him. He tried to
distinguish the voice, but could not. It was the mounted man who had
spoken.
"A hold-up, eh?" asked Jack, his tones faltering in spite of his effort to
make them steady. That this should come to him in spite of his watchfulness
was a bitter thing. And a robbery, of all time, when the valuable papers
and letters expected by Mr. Argent were in the mail pouches, too! There was
also some valuable express matter. Jack gritted his teeth in anger. Then
his hand moved toward the pocket where he carried his weapon.
"No you don't!" was the sudden and fierce exclamation of the man on the
horse beside him, and with a quick motion he caught hold of Jack's hand,
and jerked it away. "Take his gun!" the man directed. "I'll hold him."
One of the dismounted men came up, and while the man on the big horse held
Jack in a cruel grip, another of the robbers brought out the revolver which
Jack's father had given him to carry for protection. But it had afforded
little of that in this instance.
The young rider tried in vain to pierce behind the masks, and ascertain the
identity of those holding him up, but it was of no avail.
"What do you want? What's the game?" Jack asked, as the man let go of his
wrist. The fellow, however, kept one hand on the bridle of the pony, so
that there was no chance for Jack to make a sudden spurt to escape.
"The game is we want what you've got with you," said one of the men. "And
you might as well admit that we're going to get it. You may be a pretty
smart lad, or think you are, but I guess we've got you right now!"
"No, you've got me all wrong," Jack answered bitterly. "And while you were
about it why didn't you bring a few more along. Four crooks seem hardly
enough to hold up one pony express rider. Aren't you afraid I'll do
something to you?"
He spoke lightly--sarcastically. He was fighting for time. Trying to think
of some plan of escape. He even thought perhaps some one might come along
to whom he could appeal for help. But there was as small a chance of that
as there was of his being able to get away by his own efforts.
"I suppose you could have scared up half a dozen more like yourselves," he
went on. "There are more outlaws in the mountains. Or, maybe, you have
another force back on the trail, and another ahead here."
"Say, young feller, none of your fresh talk now!" cried one of the men,
fiercely. "I won't stand it!"
"No, let's get it over with," remarked another.
At these words a chill of fear, such as he had not experienced before,
seemed to flash over Jack. Did the men mean to harm him--put him to death,
perhaps, to hide the living witness of their crime? He tried to be brave,
but again came that faint feeling, and his head ached where he had been
struck--ached cruelly.
"Yes, lets finish and get a move on," agreed the man on the horse. "Here,
one of you take the pouches, and another hand me the ropes. I'll have him
triced up in a jiffy."
Jack breathed more easily. He was only to be bound then, as the outlaws of
the mountains usually did bind the stage drivers or express messengers whom
they robbed. There seldom was a killing, unless the victims resisted or
shot at the hold-up men.
One of the three unmounted men advanced to Jack, and began loosening the
fastenings of the mail and express pouches.
"Don't touch them!" the pony rider cried. "Leave those mail sacks alone!"
So vehement was he, and so much energy did he put in his voice that, for
the moment, the man was startled, and drew back.
"What's the idea?" he asked.
"That is government property!" went on Jack, trying to follow up the
impression he had made. "You are interfering with the United States' mail.
And I don't need to tell you what sort of a crime that is! You won't have
to deal with me, you'll have to answer to the government, and the
inspectors will be on your trail inside of twenty-four hours! Don't you
touch that mail!"
For a moment the men did seem impressed by Jack's sharp warning. Then the
man on the horse laughed, and said:
"Oh, quit your talking. Go on, take the sacks and we'll get away. We can't
stay here the rest of the night!"
"Say, he has a pretty lively tongue," observed the man who was loosening
the sacks from Jack's saddle. "He gave me a start for a second or two."
"Forget it! Yank 'em off and come on."
Jack felt that it would be useless to protest further. Besides, there was a
growing feeling of sickness and pain. The man took the express and mail
packages and tied them on one of the three horses.
"Now then get off, you pony rider!" ordered the man on the big horse. "Get
off, and get off quick! We're in a hurry and we're done fooling!"
"What--what are you going to do?" faltered Jack. He was beginning to be
afraid of what was to come.
"We're going to tie you up so tight that you won't get loose in a jiffy,"
was the answer he received. "You say the inspectors will be on our trail
inside of twenty-four hours. Well, maybe they won't if you can't get loose
to give the alarm. So we're going to tie you up."
"That won't prevent the alarm from being given," Jack said. "When I fail to
arrive there'll be a search made, and they'll find me."
"That's right," Jack heard one of the unmounted men say in a low voice.
"He's right about that."
"Oh, what of it?" impatiently asked the man on the horse. "Of course this
thing is bound to be found out sooner or later. I expect that. But we can
gain a little time by trussing him up with ropes. Now come on--be lively.
Get off or I'll yank you off, and I won't be easy about it, either!"
Jack felt it best to obey. He leaped from the Saddle, and then, with a
sharp slap on the flank of Sunger, he cried to his pony: "Go on, boy!
Home!"
The intelligent animal sprang forward, and before any of the men could
catch him had darted off down the dark trail in the direction of Rainbow
Ridge.
"Look out--get him!" one of the men cried, sharply.
"What's the use--he's gone, and he's one of the fastest horses in the
mountains; we'd never catch him," said the mounted man. "It was a sharp
trick, lad, but it won't do you any good. Tie him up!"
Jack was handled roughly by the outlaws, and was soon so tightly bound that
he felt he never could get loose without help. He once more tried to look
behind one of the masks, but it was so dark that he could see nothing. He
tried to get a mental picture of the shapes of the men and the tones of
their voices, so he might know them again if he ever saw or heard them.
"Lay him over here, on one side of the road," ordered the man who seemed to
be the leader. "Some one may be along before noon to-morrow and take care
of you," he said to Jack, who did not answer. "If they don't we'll send an
anonymous message, telling where you can be found. We don't want to hurt
you, but we had to have this stuff from you, and this was the only way to
get it," the outlaw went on. "Come along, boys," he concluded.
Then the four men, taking with them the mail and express pouches, galloped
away in the darkness.
CHAPTER X
A QUEER DISCOVERY
Left to himself, tied tightly with the ropes that cut into his wrists and
made his legs ache, poor Jack lay in a sort of stupor. He could hardly
understand what had happened, and his head hurt him very much where he had
been struck. He was lying on the road at one side of the trail. Overhead he
could see the stars twinkling. It was still very quiet.
"Not much chance of any one coming along the trail to-night," mused Jack.
It was the first thought that had come clearly to him, and, in a measure,
it served to rouse him from his stupor. Then his brain seemed to clear.
"I've got to do something! I can't lie here and wait for some one to come
and help me!" he decided, Already there was more vigor in the activity of
his mind.
Jack's first idea, as soon as he had begun to think clearly, was that he
must loosen his bonds. To this end he writhed and struggled as he lay on
his back. He managed to roll over on his side, but he found himself more
uncomfortable than in his first position, and soon rolled back to that.
During this operation he tried, by every means in his power, to stretch or
strain the knots. He thought if he could only get one of the bonds to give
he might manage to get one hand out.
"And if I can do that, I'll soon be clear," Jack reasoned, "But it isn't
going to be easy to get one hand out."
It did not take him long to discover this. The robbers had done their work
well. They were taking no chances. Jack rested after his struggles. His
head ached worse than ever because of the rush of blood to it from the
strain.
"I wonder if it will do any good to call?" he mused. "I'm going to try. But
I've got to get my breath first."
A little later he began shouting and calling for help, doing it at
intervals. But he had not much hope. He was on the lonesomest part of the
trail, which, at best, was seldom traveled. Often days would pass without
any one, save the pony express rider, going over the mountain.
"I might as well save my breath, I guess," reasoned Jack. "This is only
playing me out. Maybe they'll come for me when Sunger gets home. Whoever
sees him without me and the mail will know something has happened. The only
trouble is they won't know where to look. But it's my best chance, I
think."
He lay quiet for a period, thinking over the momentous events that had just
occurred.
"I wonder who those men were, and what they were after," mused Jack. "There
wasn't enough valuable stuff in the express packages to make four men risk
state's prison for it. It must have been the mail they were after. And
nothing of great value was in the mail, except the letters for Mr. Argent.
Of course, they were what they wanted. And in that case he ought to know
who would be most interested in taking them. We may be able to arrest the
men yet.
"But it may be too late," Jack reflected. "They may get the information
they want and take the secret mine away from those to whom it belongs. That
would be too bad! But if my plan only works, and those fellows don't open
that bundle of papers, the letters may be safe yet. It was my best chance.
If I could only get loose!"
Again Jack struggled and squirmed, but the ropes would not give an inch.
Suddenly, as the young pony express rider was trying to work loose his
bonds, he felt a sharp pain in one hand, which was under him, behind his
back, pressing on the earth.
"Whew! Something cut me then!" Jack exclaimed. "Must be a knife one of the
men dropped. If I could only get at that and on a rope!"
Carefully he felt along on the ground, so as not to cut himself again. His
fingers touched something sharp.
"A piece of glass--part of a broken bottle," he murmured. "Well, it may be
as good as a knife, but I'll probably cut myself more in using it."
He managed to work himself down until he had a firm grip on the piece of
glass under him--a grip that did not cut.
"Now let me figure this out," he mused.
It was obvious that he could not hold the piece of glass in his fingers and
saw away at the ropes around his wrists. He could not bend his fingers back
far enough.
"If I could only get the glass between my feet, I might be able to bend
them back far enough, by lying on my face, so I could saw on the ropes that
way," he reflected. He tried, but soon had to give it up. He also
endeavored to do this by lying on his side, but it was of no use. Then, in
a flash, it came to him.
"I'll bury the glass in the ground, to hold it," he told himself. "By
leaving a sharp, jagged edge sticking out I ought to be able to saw through
the ropes on my wrists, by rubbing the cords up and down against the glass.
I'll do it!"
It was hard work, but by lying on his side Jack managed, after a fashion.
He had to work without seeing what he was doing. Even daylight would not
have helped him, for he could not see behind his back.
By using the glass as a sort of shovel, Jack managed to dig a hole in the
earth. He then put the long piece of glass in this, upright, and packed
dirt around it. His fingers came in contact with a small stone, and he used
this to tamp the soil and gravel around the glass knife, to hold it more
firmly upright. He cut himself several times while doing this, but he kept
on.
Finally he was ready to make the attempt. It was more than an hour after he
first began his operations, and he was weary, for he had to work in a
cramped and uncomfortable position. He rested a few minutes, and then began
sawing the rope around his wrists up and down on the sharp piece of glass
stuck upright in the ground.
It had to be done slowly and gently, because too much pressure would have
overturned the queer knife. Jack knew he must be patient. He cut his wrists
more than once, but the gashes were slight, and he thought the bleeding
would soon stop.
Finally he felt the bonds loosening slightly. Some of the rope strands were
cut through.
"It won't be long now," Jack thought, gladly.
Again and again on the jagged edge of the glass knife did he rub the cords,
and finally, with a sudden spreading apart of his hands, he found he could
break the remaining strands.
His hands were free!
Jack's heart beat high with hope now. He waited a few minutes to let the
slackened circulation of blood take up its work. Then it was the work of
but an instant, with the same piece of glass that had served him so well,
to sever the ropes about his legs. But when Jack tried to stand up he
nearly toppled over, so weak was he, and so numb were his legs. They had
gone to sleep from the lack of circulation of the blood.
But in a little while he was all right, and could walk about.
"Now, the question is, what's the best thing to do?" he asked himself.
"Make for home, as soon as I can, and give the alarm," he reasoned. "I've
got to give the alarm, if Sunger hasn't already gotten there and given it
for me."
Off on the dark and lonely trail he started. It was quite different from
traveling over it on the back of his speedy pony. But it was something to
be free, and free sooner than the robbers had any idea he would be.
"I may even be able to catch up to them, and trace which way they go," Jack
thought.
He walked on for nearly an hour, when he heard the trot of a number of
Horses some distance ahead of him. Jack halted and listened intently.
"I wonder if those are the hold-up men coming back, to make sure I'm still
tied up, or if it's my friends?" thought Jack. "I can't afford to take a
chance. I'll hide in the bushes until I see who they are."
He knew every inch of the trail. Near the spot where he was, was a hole in
the side of the hill where some badly directed man had once started to dig
a gold mine. He had not gone far before he discovered that iron pyrites was
the only "gold" in that locality. The hole was never filled up, and was now
almost hidden from sight by a heavy growth of underbrush.
"That's the place for me," Jack mused. A few strides took him to it, and he
stepped in to await, in concealment, the passage of the oncoming horsemen.
Something soft and yielding came in contact with Jack's foot. He started,
thinking he must have stepped on some sleeping beast. But there came no
outcry, which would have followed in that case.
"It can't be dead leaves," mused the lad, "it doesn't feel that way.
What--"
He stooped down and felt with his hands. A thrill ran through him.
"The mail pouches!" he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "The mail pouches the
robbers took from me! They hid them here, and I've found them! What luck!"
CHAPTER XI
DUMMY LETTERS
Jack was so overjoyed at his queer and unexpected discovery that, for the
moment, he forgot all about the approaching horsemen from whom he had
hidden himself. Then there came a thought to him.
"Perhaps the pouches are empty! If the rascals have taken all the mail out
and just thrown the empty pouches in here, that isn't such a great
discovery after all!"
Once more he felt of the pouches in the darkness. He could tell that they
were well filled--almost the same as when he had tied them to his saddle.
"I don't believe they opened them!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "They must
have been frightened and thrown them in here, thinking to come back for
them when they had the chance."
Then he had another idea.
"And that must be the robbers coming now!" he reasoned. "They're coming
back to get the pouches. What shall I do?"
There was but one answer to that question--he must hide the mail and
express matter in some other place. He paused a moment to listen. The
galloping hoof-beats were nearer now, but it would still be some time
before the riders would be opposite the old mine hole. The trail wound in
and out at this point, and while sounds came up plainly through the
rarefied mountain air, bodies themselves could not travel so swiftly.
"I've got five minutes, anyhow," reasoned Jack.
He caught up the mail pouches, one in either hand, though his cut fingers
and wrists hurt him cruelly. But he gritted his teeth and kept on. He knew
the ground well. Back of the hole was a slope that extended to a deep patch
of woods. Jack would hide himself and the mail in there.
He was too excited to notice whether or not the locks on the bags had been
tampered with. In fact he could not see in the dark and he had no time for
extended investigation. He just tucked the bags under his arms, and ran
with them. That is he made as good time as was possible under the
circumstances. The ground was rough, and Jack himself was very weak. He had
suffered much that night.
He found a good hiding place down in between two big logs, and there he
stuffed the mail bags, covering them over with dried leaves. Then he
hurried back to the hole to get the express stuff.
Fortunately that was light, this trip, and he could easily carry the few
small parcels that had been entrusted to him. In fact, in those days, only
light packages were accepted by the pony riders. The mail was their chief
concern.
So Jack had no trouble in carrying the sacks of express matter to their new
hiding place. This done he had only to watch to see who the approaching
riders might be.
Jack worked quickly, and when he had taken the last of his recovered stuff
to the place between the two logs he sat down in such a position that he
had a view of the trail. It was getting lighter now, for the dawn was at
hand. There was a faint glow in the east.
"Well, I certainly have put in a night of it!" Jack thought. "And I may be
in for more if these are the robbers coming back. They may look for their
stuff, and make a search if they find it missing. But I don't believe
they'll find me."
Nearer came the approaching hoof-beats, Jack peered from his hiding place.
He could hear voices now, but the sound was uncertain. It would not do to
call out. He must see who it was that was coming.
Suddenly several men rode into view. Jack counted their heads as they were
outlined against the faintly-glowing eastern sky. There were seven of them.
Unless the robbers had come back reinforced these must be members of a
searching party looking for the pony express rider. Yet Jack would take no
chances. He must be certain.
"Hello, Jack! Jack Bailey! Pony Express! Where are you?"
This was the cry that echoed on the dying night.
Now there was no doubt of it!
Jack leaped to his feet.
"Here I am!" he cried. "Be with you in a second! Send some one up to help
me carry down the mail!"
He was wildly excited, but he managed to calm himself long enough to light
a match, and ignite a piece of bark. He wanted to indicate his position to
the rescuers. They saw the flare and some one cried:
"All right, Jack! Be with you in a minute! Are you all right?"
It was the voice of Dr. Brown.
"Yes, I'm all right. It was a hold-up," Jack explained. "But I have the
mail and express stuff back--that is I hope I have it all," he added.
Another moment and he was surrounded by his friends. There were Jed Monty,
the stage driver, Dr. Brown, Amos Perkfeld, the president of the express
company, Payson Wayde and Mr. Argent, besides Henry Applebaugh, the hotel
keeper, and one of his stable boys.
"Are you all right. Jack?" Dr. Brown repeated, "Your father insisted that I
come out and help look for you."
"Yes, I'm all right. Just cut a little, where I sawed off the ropes on a
piece of jagged glass. But does my father know?"
"Yes, your pony came galloping up to the Watson house, all lathered up,
with you and the mail missing. We knew right away something had happened,
after Mr. Watson came rushing into town with the news. So we organized a
searching party at once. But what happened to you?"
Jack told everything, down to his unexpected finding of the mail, and his
hiding from the anticipated robbers.
"And so you got everything back!" exclaimed Mr. Perkfeld. "Well, I call
that luck! Of course neither the government nor I could blame you for being
robbed, but it is good to get it all back."
"And did my pony get home safe?" asked Jack eagerly. Sunger meant much to
him.
"He's all right," said the hotel keeper. "I had one of my boys look after
him. He's a bit winded, that's all. Smart little horse, that! If ever you
want to sell him, Jack--"
"You needn't ask. I don't," was the quick answer. "But what about my
father, Dr. Brown? Is he worrying, much?"
"Well, some, of course, Jack. But I gave him Some quieting medicine, and
he'll soon hear the good news. He's much better these last few days."
The men questioned Jack at length about the appearance of the hold-up men,
but he could not give a very clear description. No one recognized them as
any one they knew.
"But we'll get a posse out after them as soon as we get back to town,"
declared Mr. Perkfeld. "We'll show them they can't hold up the pony express
and get away with it."
"They didn't get away with it--that's the joke," said Mr. Argent. "I guess
Jack is right. They probably feared pursuit, or might have gotten an alarm,
so they dumped the stuff in the old mine hole and rode away, intending to
come back later. Only Jack got ahead of them."
"That is I hope I did," interposed the pony express rider. "Maybe they have
looted the bags, though they feel as full as when I look them from Golden
Crossing."
"Well, we can soon tell," replied Mr. Argent. "It's getting light enough to
see. The locks have been forced, anyhow, so it isn't any crime for us to
open the United States' mail under these circumstances."
Jack and his rescuers gathered around while the miner opened the bags. They
were filled with letters, papers and small parcels.
"There was some stuff for you, Mr. Argent," said Jack. "It was the matter
you were expecting, I think."
"Yes," assented the miner.
"I think I played a trick on the robbers," Jack went on. "At least I fixed
up a trick, whether it worked or not we'll have to see now. I put your
stuff inside a roll of newspapers thinking they wouldn't look there."
"Good plan," said the miner. "I get your idea. But some of the bundles of
papers have been opened. Maybe the hold-up men thought they would find
something to eat inside."
Jack's heart fell at these words. If the robbers had opened the packages of
newspapers it must have been because they expected to find something hidden
in one of them. And the only thing that was hidden was the parcel of
valuable letters.
"They evidently opened the bags, looked through the contents, and, after
putting the stuff back in them, hid the pouches in the hole," said Mr.
Argent, as he picked up and looked at several packages of newspapers.
"That's the one I wrapped your stuff in, Mr. Argent," said Jack, pointing
to one newspaper packet. "But--but it's been opened!" he cried, as he saw,
in the fast-coming morning light, what had happened.
"Yes, it's been opened," the miner agreed. His voice seemed strangely calm
and collected.
"Are--are the letters gone?" faltered Jack.
"Well, they don't seem to be here," went on the miner, while the others
looked on, somewhat at a loss what to make of the little scene. "No,
there's nothing here belonging to me, Jack. Are you sure you put the sealed
stuff inside this bundle of papers?"
"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.
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