Books: Jack of the Pony Express
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Frank V. Webster >> Jack of the Pony Express
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"Stop him! Get after him! He's one of the fellows who held up the mail, and
robbed me! Stop him!"
Jack fired in the air to attract attention, for the neighborhood was
deserted. He could not bring himself to fire at the man, nor even at the
splendid horse. Though the provocation was great, and though Jack would
have been justified, he could not do it.
"Stop him! He's a post office robber!" Jack yelled, again firing a shot
Then, leaping on the back of his pony which was waiting for him outside the
building, Jack gave chase after the escaping outlaw.
"We've got to get him, Sunger!" he cried. "We've got to get him!"
CHAPTER XV
A CAUTION
Shots always attract attention, especially in a western community where
they usually mean something. In cities there are so many noises constantly
being heard, and back-fires and tire blow-outs from automobiles so nearly
resemble the discharge of firearms, that if a revolver actually were to be
fired in a crowded street it is hardly likely that it would attract notice.
But in the quiet little western town of Golden Crossing shots were rather a
novelty. The place was peaceful and law-abiding, and, as was said, when
pistol reports were heard, there usually was some good reason for them.
In consequence, when Jack shot off his revolver, it was not long before the
main street in front of the post office was thronged.
Men came rushing out of stores and houses, and there appeared also not a
few women and children. Jack, racing down the street after the escaping
outlaw, looked back and saw that he was able to call for reinforcements.
One man had already jumped on his horse and was joining in the chase.
"What's the row?"
"It's one of the men who held me up!" exclaimed Jack in answer.
"We'll get him!" was yelled back, and several more men hurried to loosen
the tie-straps of their horses to lend their aid.
"I don't know whether we'll get him or not," Jack mused, as he urged his
pony on. "He's got a good start of us, and that horse of his can go some,
or I miss my guess. Besides, he's a regular ox, and can keep going for
hours at a time.
"You're all right, Sunger, and there isn't a better pony living," Jack went
on, "but it's like putting a little runabout auto up against a big racing
car. It isn't equal. Still we'll do our best."
Several men were now taking part in the chase. The first one who had heard
what Jack said had passed the word to the others, and the posse, so hastily
organized, understood what sort of man they were after.
Some of the men were miners, and others were rough characters--that is
rough in the sense that they lived in the open and were ready for whatever
came along. Some of them began firing their "guns," as they called their
revolvers, but there was no chance of hitting the fleeing man, as he was
now out of sight beyond a turn in the trail. Realizing this the men fired
in the air, hoping, perhaps, that the sound of the shots would intimidate
the fellow, and cause him to stop.
But the man ahead was made of as stern and as desperate stuff as were the
majority of his pursuers. He must have known that Jack had recognized him,
and he realized the penalty if he were caught. So he made up his mind that
he would not be taken.
Jack was the nearest to him, and as the pony express rider caught
occasional glimpses of the fellow, he saw him beating his horse to urge the
magnificent animal to still greater speed.
"There's no use trying to catch him," thought Jack, "he's got too much of a
start, and his horse can beat anything around here. I guess he knows that."
Still Jack would not have given up had not something occurred that made it
absolutely certain that the chase was useless.
Coming to a bit of soft ground Sunger stumbled and fell, throwing Jack
cleanly over his head. Fortunately the lad landed on a bank of thick ferns,
so that his fall only jarred him. The pony was not hurt, and soon scrambled
to his feet and looked at his owner, Jack imagined, with a sort of
apologetic expression.
"I know you couldn't help it, Sunger, old boy," the lad said. "It wasn't
your fault."
He limped toward his steed and patted him. Then Jack saw that one of his
saddle girths had broken. With that unmended it would be useless to try to
continue the pursuit. The saddle would slip from under him, and bareback
riding on the mountain trail is out of the question.
Jack realized this, and when the first of the posse came up it was decided
to abandon the pursuit for the time being.
"We can't get him now, but maybe we can trail him later," said Jack.
"There's no use in my going on."
"No. And you'll be needed to carry the mail," a man replied. "The stage
will be in soon. You'd better get back. Some of us will plan to follow the
fellow. We can ask along the way, and maybe get trace of him. If so, we'll
let you know."
One or two of the pursuers who had no special duties to take them back to
the town agreed to follow the trail of the pursued one for some distance
further. The others went back with Jack, temporary mending having been done
to the saddle girth.
"Well, he got away, Jennie," said Jack, regretfully, as he entered the post
office again.
"I'm glad of it!" she exclaimed impulsively.
"What!" he cried
"I mean for your sake," she added. "He might have shot you, Jack!"
"Oh, thanks for your care," he laughed, "But I wish we could have gotten
him. It would be a big feather in my cap."
"I don't care for caps with feathers," Jennie retorted. "But what in the
world do you suppose he wanted, Jack? And why did he pass himself off as a
post office inspector?"
"So he could have a chance to look over your records And he may have
thought there was something of value in the waiting mail that he could take
away with him, if he got you out of the place.
"That was his game. You see the gang of outlaws didn't even make what might
be called expenses out of their hold-up of me. They had their trouble for
their pains, and I suppose they were wild when they found out the valuable
letters they took were only dummies.
"Probably the fellow thought the real letters might be coming along soon
now, and he wanted to get them. I guess he must be the head one of the
crowd that is trying to get control of the secret mine Mr. Argent is going
to work. Those fellows are desperate. But this one didn't get anything."
"He came near it, though," Jennie said. "Only for you I suppose I would
have been foolish enough to go out and leave him in the office alone. There
wasn't much he could take, however. But I did get a new supply of stamps
yesterday, nearly fifty dollars' worth. If he had taken them--"
"He wasn't looking for any such small change as stamps," said Jack. "I know
what he was after--it was the real Argent letters. Well, he got away from
us, more's the pity, though the men may overhaul him later. Now I've got to
get ready for the back trip."
But Jack did not have to make it that night. The incoming mail was late and
as there was nothing of importance to go through, Jack followed the
previous instructions he had received and remained in Golden Crossing.
He was glad he did not have to take the night Tide. His pony was quite
shaken up by the fall, and a little lame. Jack himself felt sore and stiff,
and it was much pleasanter to remain with his relatives, spending the
evening in Jennie's company, than to ride the lonely mountain trail after
dark.
Late that night the men who had kept on with the pursuit came back to
report that they had lost the trail of the man they were after. He had made
good his escape, at least for the time being.
"But we'll get him yet!" some of them boasted.
"They won't if he gets a start on that horse of his," thought Jack.
When Jack made his appearance at the Mansion Hotel the next morning to
deliver the mail, and take that which was to go back to Golden Crossing,
the pony express rider was met by Mr. Argent.
"Just a word with you, Jack," said the miner. "You remember the bogus
letters that were taken away from you, I suppose?"
"I should say I did!" Jack exclaimed. "Why, have they found them?"
"No. But it doesn't matter about them. I want to tell you now that the real
papers and letters--the ones that contain the information about the
mine--may be along any day or night now. And I want to ask you to be
specially careful about them."
"I will, Mr. Argent."
"I know you will, Jack, but I want to caution you, not only about them, but
about your own safety. There are a number of desperate men who would go
almost any length to get possession of that package of documents. So be on
your guard."
Mr. Argent suddenly ceased speaking and looked around. They were out in
front of the hotel, near a clump of bushes. Without saying anything further
Mr. Argent suddenly made a leap behind the shrubbery.
CHAPTER XVI
SUNGER GOES LAME
Jack was on the alert, ready to follow, but there was no need. Mr. Argent
came back with a grim smile on his bronzed face.
"I thought I heard a movement there, as if some one were listening," he
said, "but it was a false alarm."
"Are they trailing you as closely as that?"
"Yes, and more so," was the answer. "There's a big fight on to get this
mine away from me and my friends, but we're going to beat our enemies.
They'd give anything to get the information that is to come to me through
the mail, and that's why I'm always on the lookout, fearing some one may
overhear what I say."
"But I thought you knew where the mine is," said Jack.
"So I do, and I'm one of the very few men who do know the exact location."
"Then why are you expecting information through the mail that will disclose
the place where it is?"
"You don't exactly understand," was the reply. "You see, after the man who
first located the mine came back with some rich samples of gold from it, he
died, and the place where he had made the strike was lost for some time.
Then the documents giving the location were found by those entitled to
share the wealth, and I came in on the deal.
"Now, in order to have everything perfectly legal it was necessary, in this
particular case, to send to the authorities to have our titles made good.
To do that we had to describe exactly where the mine was located. We had to
send this information to the government officials in San Francisco. But of
course our secret is safe with them.
"The trouble is, however, that they are now sending back to us our original
documents, which give the location of the mine, and with them come our
proofs to the claim, our legal title so to speak. Of course all these
papers contain the written description of the location of the mine. If
these papers fall into the hands of the men who are working against us they
may jump our claim, as they call it, for it is not yet legally secured to
us.
"That is why I am so anxious not to have the expected letters lost. So if
you get them, Jack, take good care of them."
"You can make sure I will!" exclaimed the pony rider.
"Oh, I'm not worrying about you, Jack. I mean I know I can trust you, just
as I could have trusted your father were he on the express route. It's the
other fellows I'm worrying about. They held you up once, Jack, and--"
"They won't get a second chance!" exclaimed the lad, with flashing eyes.
"I'll be on the watch."
"Well, they're pretty foxy and cunning," went on the miner. "It's treachery
more than anything else you have to fear now; treachery and guile. They'll
try them now they've found out their hold-up methods didn't work!"
"Well, they may try them again," said Jack, "but they won't catch me
napping again."
"Oh, I guess you weren't napping, Jack."
"No, not exactly. It all happened so suddenly they didn't give me a chance.
Though I suppose that was their game. Well, I'll do my best."
"I know you will, Jack. Now, as I said, I don't know just when the
documents will come. If I did I'd be there myself, and bring 'em through. I
wouldn't ask you to take the risk."
"Oh, the risk is part of the game," Jack said.
"I know it is, but I don't believe in anybody--man or boy--taking too many.
But, not knowing when they'll arrive, I'll have to trust the regular mail
service. Only one thing, Jack. Don't bring them through at night. I mean by
that, don't make a night trip just for my papers. Of course, if you have to
make a night ride anyhow, and the documents arrive at Golden Crossing,
bring them along with you. But don't make a special trip on their account,
as there is no rush about them. I suppose you can depend on the people at
the other end of the line--I mean in the Golden Crossing office?"
"Well, I should say I could!" declared Jack, energetically. "Jennie Blake
is postmistress there and--"
"Oh, I forgot. She's a relative of yours, isn't she?"
"Yes," answered Jack, and he blushed under his coat of tan.
"Well then of course it's all right. I am not greatly worried about the
transportation from San Francisco to Golden Crossing. It's from there to
here the documents will be taken, if at all."
"They won't be taken at all!" declared Jack. Of course, he was boyishly
enthusiastic. For that one can not blame him. He was deeply interested in
his work. To him it meant everything. He wanted to bring the mail through
safe, and on time every trip. And, so far, he had more than made good.
That one hold-up did not count against him, especially as he had so soon
recovered the bulk of the stuff.
"Well, I guess that's all I have to say to you, Jack," concluded the miner.
"As I remarked, I can't say just when the papers will arrive. And when they
do--well, take the best care of them you can."
"I wonder how it would do to try another ruse, and hide them, say in a
loosely tied package, that looked as if it didn't contain anything more
valuable than a pair of old shoes?"
"That might answer. But as you tried that game once, and it didn't work, it
would hardly deceive the outlaws a second time. But use your own judgment,
Jack. I leave it all to you. Only bring me the papers, and don't let the
other fellows get them."
"I won't!"
"Shake!" exclaimed the miner, and their hands met in a firm clasp.
Jack rode the trail that day, reaching Golden Crossing with the packages
and letters.
"Well, Jennie," he remarked, "the game is on."
"What game?" she asked. "I hope you don't mean any more bogus inspectors
are coming here."
"No. I mean that any time now that package of mine documents may reach
here. When it does, put it in the safe if I'm not here."
"And what are you going to do with it?"
"Carry it to Rainbow Ridge, of course."
"Oh, Jack! Suppose something happens?" half whispered Jennie.
"Well, I hope it doesn't. And I'm going to do my best to see that something
doesn't happen. But if it does, well, I'll have to put up with it, I
suppose," Jack said, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I almost hope the old package doesn't come," murmured Jennie, with a pout
of her pretty lips.
"Oh, that wouldn't do," said Jack. "It's very valuable and important. And
that's what the pony express is for--to transport speedily valuable and
important packages and letters. I'll make out all right, I guess."
"I--I hope so," she faltered.
For several days after that Jack watched the mails anxiously for a sight of
the package of documents relating to the mine. But it did not come, and as
he made each trip he planned what to do at certain points of the road,
where he might possibly be held up again.
"Though it's a question, just as Mr. Argent says, whether they would try
the same tactics twice," Jack reasoned. "They may try some other game. I'll
have to be on the watch for both."
Mr. Argent himself was getting anxious now. Each time Jack came into
Rainbow Ridge from his trip, the miner asked if the letters had come. Each
time Jack answered in the negative.
"Well, they'll be along any day now," Mr. Argent would say. "Be on the
lookout."
Jack was idling about the Golden Crossing post office about a week after he
had received the caution to be on his guard. He was waiting for the stage
to come in with the western mail, with which he expected to make the ride
back to Rainbow Ridge.
A dusty messenger rode up on a tired and lather-covered horse, and called
to Postmistress Jennie:
"Is the pony express rider here?"
"Yes," answered Jack, coming forward. "What's wanted?"
"Stage has had a bust-up a little way out," the messenger said. "I come in
to get help, and to say that the driver wants to see you."
"Wants to see me?"
"Yes, he's got a bundle of mail that's marked '_Rush_,' and he wants to
know if you can ride out there, get it and take it on to Rainbow Ridge."
"Well, I suppose I can," Jack said, "though it isn't regular."
"No, he told me to tell you he knowed that. And he said he'd have sent the
mail in by me, only there's some valuable stuff in it, and he wants a
regular man to take it. So will you go out?"
"I think I'd better, yes. How far out is the stage?"
"About five miles. Half way between Bosford and Tuckerton," was the answer.
"All right, I'll ride out and get the mail," decided Jack, and in due time
he arrived at the place where the stage had been delayed because of a
broken wheel. The mail was transferred to Jack, and he started back with
it.
"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.
CHAPTER XVII
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.
Again the young express rider busied himself with the task. He shook his
head over the work, for it seemed more and more impossible to get the stone
out without taking off the shoe, and that would mean going back to the
blacksmith's shop to have it nailed on again.
"Regular nuisance, having this happen," said Jack. "But of course I know it
isn't your fault, Sunger."
The sound of hoof-beats on the trail caused Jack to look up as he was
bending over the shoe. He saw riding toward him a stranger. The latter drew
up his horse, nodded in friendly fashion, and remarked:
"You seem to be having some trouble there."
"Yes," Jack admitted. "Pony's gone lame. Got a stone under his shoe, and I
don't seem to get it out."
"A bad thing in your business, I should judge," the man went on. "Pony
express rider, aren't you?"
That could be told by a glance at the mail sacks.
"Yes," Jack answered, for the man seemed anxious to be friendly. "I ride
between Golden Crossing and Rainbow Ridge."
"Sort of out of your way here, aren't you?"
"Yes. I had to ride out to get the mail. Stage broke down again. I'm going
in to Golden Crossing now, and then on to the Ridge. That is, I am if I can
get this stone out."
"Say, if you don't mind, let me have a chance at it," suggested the man,
getting off his horse with an ease that showed he was accustomed to the
saddle. "I used to know something about smithy work, and I've got a better
hook than the one you're using."
"Well, if you don't mind, I wish you would have a try," said Jack,
straightening up his bent and aching back. "It seems to have gotten the
best of me."
The stranger patted Sunger, who sniffed at him and seemed satisfied. The
pony rubbed his velvet nose against the man's coat. This was his way of
making friends. Sunger did not do this with every one, either, and Jack
felt more interest in the newcomer on that account.
"Now, let's see what we have here," the man went on, as he lifted the
pony's lame foot. "Oh, my name's Ryan," he added, as an afterthought.
"And mine's Jack Bailey," said our hero, completing the introduction.
"Glad to meet you. I'm riding your way, and I'll go on with you after I get
you fixed up, or, rather, your pony.
"Think you can do it?" Jack asked.
"Oh yes, I'll soon have this out. You almost had it yourself, but you were
working at it the wrong way."
He proved that he knew what he was talking about a few minutes later, by
exclaiming:
"There it is!"
He held up the stone that had caused all the trouble. It was of peculiar
shape, which accounted for the manner in which it had become wedged fast.
"Thanks!" Jack exclaimed. "Now the question is about the shoe. Is it so
loose that I can't go on?"
"It is a bit loose," the man said. "But I can fix that for you. I carry a
spare shoe or two myself. They wouldn't fit your pony, for they are too
large. But I've got a hammer and nails in my saddle bags. I ride about a
good bit, and my nag often casts a shoe, so I go prepared. I'll have this
one tightened up in a jiffy."
Jack watched Ryan interestedly. The man seemed very capable, and it is
often the custom of cowboys or range riders to carry with them spare shoes,
nails and a hammer, to reset a shoe of their mounts when far from a
blacksmith shop.
In a few minutes the shoe was as tight as necessary, and Jack could again
mount his pony and ride on.
"I'm a thousand times obliged to you," he said to Ryan. "It was quite a
job, wasn't it?"
"Well, yes. Not so hard as some I've tackled, though. But it's a warm day,
and I think after that we're entitled to a little refreshment. What do you
say?"
For a moment Jack did not understand.
"Refreshment," he repeated. "There's no place around here where you can get
anything to eat. No places short of going back to Tuckerton. And I'm not
hungry enough for that."
"Hungry? Shucks, no! I'm not myself. I wasn't talking about anything to
eat. I meant something to drink."
"Oh," said Jack, and a queer sort of feeling came over him. "Well, there's
no ice cream soda place around here, either," and he smiled.
"Ice cream soda? Shucks! I'm talking about a man's drink! And I don't need
any one to wait on me, either. I carry it with me. It's safer in case of
emergency," and he laughed in what he evidently meant to be taken as a
friendly fashion.
"Here, have a smile with me," he went on, producing a pocket flask. "It's
stuff I can recommend," he added. "It'll do you good after working over
that shoe. Come on, help yourself, and then I'll take what you leave,
though there's plenty in that bottle, and more where that came from."
He held out a dark flask to Jack.
Jack backed away and shook his head.
"No, thank you," he said, firmly.
"What!" the man exclaimed in seeming surprise. "You don't drink?"
"No," Jack replied. "It wouldn't do in my business, you know. Besides, I
wouldn't drink anyhow."
"Oh, shucks! Just one wouldn't hurt you, and there's no one to know. Your
boss won't find it out, for I won't tell. After going through what you have
you need a drink."
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