Books: Jack of the Pony Express
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Frank V. Webster >> Jack of the Pony Express
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"Who'd think he could beat me this way?" he asked himself. "No human being,
I thought, could keep his senses after that dose I put in his coffee. It
won't do him any permanent harm, that's one thing I'm glad of, for after a
lad has made the plucky fight he has I don't wish him harm, even if we have
to take desperate measures against him. He'll be all right again in a
couple of hours. But why doesn't he fall off?"
It was not until some time later that Ryan learned why, and then his
admiration for Jack increased. For, bad and unscrupulous as he was, Ryan
had once been a good man, and he could admire grit and fine qualities in
others, though he could not exercise them himself.
"I've got to get him soon, or we'll be plump into Golden Crossing, and then
the jig will be up, I fear," Ryan said fiercely. "They'll say I bungled the
job, and they'll try another hold-up, I suppose. For those letters are in
that mail, and we must have them!"
But as he galloped on for another quarter of a mile, it became increasingly
evident that Sunger was not to be overtaken. The louder the hoof-beats of
the other horse sounded, the faster the plucky little pony ran, though he
was now tiring. But he was game, all the way through, and never would give
up while he had an ounce of strength left in him.
"Well, there's only one way to end it," said Ryan aloud. He drew his
revolver. "I hate to shoot a fine little pony like that," the man went on,
"but I've got to stop him somehow, and I can't ride him down. It's the only
way!"
Carefully he took aim, and was about to pull the trigger. Then he hesitated
and lowered the weapon.
"No, I haven't the nerve," he muttered. "If I kill the pony he'll go over,
and the boy may be killed too. I can't do it. It goes against me. I'm bad
enough all the way through, but I'm not going to do anything like that, and
I'll tell the gang so. If I can't ride him down he'll have to get away, as
far as I'm concerned. I can't do that!"
He shoved the weapon back into the holster, and exclaimed:
"Now, you brute, I'm going to make you run!"
He whipped his own horse cruelly, and the animal, in terror, did respond
with a burst of speed. It came too late, however, for a few minutes later
the trail turned, and Ryan knew he was near Golden Crossing--too near for
safety.
"No use!" he muttered! "I've got to give up. I'll go and tell the gang.
Maybe they can get the letters some other way. They aren't in Rainbow Ridge
yet, and lots of things can happen on the road. I'll tell the gang and
we'll think up something new."
He reined in his nearly exhausted horse, and swung back down the trail,
riding slowly. Sunger, with his unconscious burden, kept on. The race was
almost run, and it was high time, for the pony was all but fagged out.
And then into the very streets of the mountain town went the little horse.
Straight through the streets, bearing unconscious Jack. And those who saw
wondered, though some may have guessed what had happened.
Several raced after Sunger, who was now abating some of his speed. For he
saw, just ahead of him, the post office. That was the goal for which he had
striven, and he seemed to realize that the race was won.
No one attempted to stop Sunger. They knew where he would go. And reaching
the rail where Jack always tied him at one side of the Golden Crossing post
office, the pony stopped. He spread his legs far apart, for he was
trembling from weariness.
"Oh, it's Jack!" cried Jennie, looking from the window to see the meaning
of the galloping, and of the strange cries. "It's Jack! Something has
happened!" she faltered, as she saw the unconscious form in the saddle.
"Oh, Mother! He--he's dead!"
Tim Mullane was at the side of the unconscious pony rider.
"No, he isn't dead!" he shouted, "but he's in a bad way. Here, some of yez
give me a hand and we'll loosen him up, and take him inside. Poor lad! He's
had a hard time!"
CHAPTER XXI
THE ARGENT LETTERS
They carried Jack inside, and laid him on a couch. Jennie and her mother
used what simple remedies they had at hand to rouse him from his
unconscious state. Tim took the exhausted pony to the stable, for Sunger
was much in need of rest.
"What was it? What happened to the pony Express?" asked several of the
crowd that had gathered outside when they had seen the animal canter up
with Jack on his back.
"I don't know what happened," replied the red-haired helper. "But maybe it
was Indians tied him that way, and was going to make his pony jump over a
cliff. Them Indians is fierce!"
"Indians! There aren't any around here!" said some one, laughing at Tim's
notion. Tim had not been out West long.
"More likely it was some of those hold-up fellows," suggested a man in the
throng. "Though why they should tie him to his horse Is more than I can
figure out."
"Well, Jack came through all right, or, rather, that smart pony of his
brought him," another voice said. "And he brought the mail safe!"
"That's what he did!" cried several.
Meanwhile inside the little cottage, part of which was given over to the
Golden Crossing post office, Jennie and her mother were working hard over
the unconscious form of Jack.
"I guess we'll have to send for the doctor, Jennie," finally said Mrs.
Blake. "I've tried ammonia and camphor, and he doesn't come to. He may be
badly hurt, thought it doesn't show."
"Oh, mother!" faltered the girl. "Poor Jack!"
"Eh? What's the matter? Who's calling me?" asked Jack himself in a faint
voice. It was as though he had murmured in his sleep. He slowly opened his
eyes.
"Oh, mother! It's all right! He's waking up!" Jennie exclaimed. "We won't
need a doctor right away. Oh, Jack, what happened you?"
Jack's senses were slowly but surely clearing. His head hurt him very much,
but that terrible, sick feeling was passing away. He was in a daze yet, and
the voices of Jennie and her mother seemed far away, indeed.
"Why I'm here--in the post office!" Jack suddenly exclaimed, with more
energy than before. His eyes were wide open now, and he looked about the
familiar room.
"Of course you're in the post office, or, rather, in our sitting room that
opens from it," said Jennie.
"But the mail! The mail!" Jack suddenly cried, trying to sit up. The motion
sent such a rush of blood to his head that he had to fall limply back.
"I--I'll be all right in a minute," Jack said, after a pause. "But what
about the mail? Tell me that! Did I bring it through safely?"
"That's what you did!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake. "It was safe on your saddle,
and you were tied fast to your pony. Who did that."
"I did it myself," Jack answered. "But I'm glad I brought the mail in
safely. I was afraid I couldn't do it, but I did."
"Do you mean to say you roped yourself fast that way?" demanded Jennie,
somewhat incredulously.
"I did," Jack replied.
"Why, the idea! We thought the hold-up men did."
"I did it to fool the hold-up rascals," said Jack. He was feeling better
every minute now, and when he had taken some of the spirits of ammonia Mrs.
Blake held out to him, his head cleared very much.
"One of them, named Ryan, put up a game on me," Jack explained. "He tried
to get me to take a drugged drink, and, when I refused, though of course I
didn't know it was drugged, he put some stuff in my coffee. Queer stuff it
must be. For it certainly knocked me out, but I don't feel nearly so bad
now."
Just what sort of drug it was that Ryan used on Jack was never revealed. It
was said later that the man himself had once been an expert chemist, and he
probably knew the secrets of drugs better than the average criminal.
Whatever it was he gave Jack, it left no harmful after effects, and for
that the pony rider was thankful.
"Do you want a doctor?" asked Mrs. Blake. "We'll send for one, Jack, if you
say so."
"No, I think I'll be all right," he answered. "I'm feeling better by the
minute. Oh, but I was sick!" and he shuddered at the recollection. "But
where is the mail?" he demanded, and this time he followed his question by
sitting up. "Where is it?" he repeated.
"Tim brought it in," Jennie replied. "I haven't opened it yet. There was so
much excitement when we saw what a state you were in that I let the mail
wait. There's a crowd outside now, waiting to hear the story."
"Well, I don't feel like telling them," said Jack. "I want to sit here and
rest. Is Sunger all right?"
"Yes," Mrs. Blake reported. "I'll go out and tell the folks something of
what happened. Later on they can hear the whole story. But shan't I notify
the sheriff or some one, and have them get after this Ryan? What became of
him?"
"The last I saw of him was when he was sitting in the restaurant," Jack
answered. "He said good-bye in the friendliest fashion. And to think of the
trick he played on me! Said he'd see me again, the scoundrel!"
"And did he see you again?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"No," Jack answered. But he did not know how Ryan had pursued him, and then
disappeared.
"He must have had it all figured out," the lad went on. "He planned to come
up to me after I had fallen unconscious. Then he'd take the mail. Are you
sure it's safe?" he asked again.
"Yes," replied Jennie. "I'll bring it in here and let you see it if
necessary."
"No, I'll go out to it," replied Jack. "I'm feeling almost myself again."
"Better take a little more rest," suggested Mrs. Blake.
She had gone outside to explain matters to the waiting and anxious crowd,
which, having had its curiosity satisfied, in a measure, now dispersed.
Some of the younger lads went over to the stable where Sunger was resting.
They wanted to look at, and marvel over, the plucky pony that had done so
much to safeguard Jack and the mail.
Jack got to his feet. He had, however, overestimated his strength, for he
tottered and would have fallen had not Jennie put out her hands to steady
him.
"Look out!" she cautioned him.
"Humph! I'm a regular girl!" complained Jack, somewhat ashamed of his
weakness.
"Take care!" Jennie playfully retorted. "Girls are a whole lot better than
boys, in many ways."
"Yes, I know," confessed Jack. "If it were not for you and your mother I
don't know what I'd do. But I guess I can walk now. Queer how that stuff,
whatever it was, knocked me out."
"Here, drink this," suggested Mrs. Blake, and she held out a cup of coffee
she had brewed.
"Coffee!" Jack exclaimed, with a grim smile. "Are you sure it's all right?"
"No drug in that," Jennie's mother assured him. "It will make you feel
better. Then I'll get supper. You can eat, can't you?"
"Yes, my appetite doesn't seem to have left me in spite of what I went
through. I didn't take much in that restaurant. I was too anxious to get
away with the mail."
Jack drank the coffee, and it made him feel better. Then he said:
"Now for the mail. I want to see it opened, Jennie, so I'll know just what
it was I brought through."
"But you're not going on through to Rainbow Ridge to-night, are you?" she
asked anxiously.
"I guess not," was his answer. "Can't tell though, until I see what's in
the mail. I may have to."
"Well, we'll just not let you!" exclaimed Mrs. Blake with vigor. "If there
is anything that has to go through I'll get Tim, or some one else, to ride
the trail. We'll even send two men if necessary."
"Oh, I can't give up that way!" Jack protested.
"Well, maybe there isn't anything to carry," suggested Jennie. "I'll open
the mail and we'll look."
She turned the key in the lock of the first sack, and spilled the contents
out on the sorting table. Almost the first thing she and Jack saw was a
flat package, sealed with red wax. Jack quickly turned it over.
"It's for Mr. Argent!" he exclaimed. "I wonder if these can be the
important letters and plans he is expecting? They must be, and that's why
Ryan tried to get them!"
Jennie said nothing, but looked at Jack with troubled eyes.
CHAPTER XXII
THE MASKED MAN
For a few seconds the two young people remained looking alternately at one
another, and then at the packet which they guessed contained the
long-expected and important papers. The red wax, with which the package was
sealed, gleamed in the lamp-light, for one had been set aglow. It was dark
early on this night, as clouds overcast the sky.
"Yes, these must be the papers Mr. Argent is expecting," Jack said,
musingly. "I wonder what I'd better do about them?"
"What is there to do?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"Well, I think I ought to take them to him. I feel all right now. The
effects of that drug has passed off, and--"
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Jennie's mother; "you shall do nothing of the sort.
No trip to Rainbow Ridge to-night!"
"But he may want them!" insisted Jack. "And I promised to bring them
through for him. I think I must go."
"Please don't," pleaded Jennie. "We can lock the letters in the safe here,
and you can take them the first thing in the morning. You know you were
told not to make a night trip unless it was absolutely necessary, and it
isn't. There isn't anything here that must go through before morning," and
she rapidly sorted over the mail and express matter to prove what she said.
"And didn't Mr. Argent tell you not to take the risk of a night trip just
for these letters?" asked Mrs. Blake.
"Yes, he did, but--"
"Then don't go. In fact it would not be fair to him to risk taking them
after dark, when you know his enemies are after them. You have had a narrow
escape this afternoon, you are weak, and--"
"Oh, I'm all right now!" insisted Jack. "I feel fine."
He certainly looked it. His health had enabled him to make a quick recovery
from the effects of the drug, the life he lived in the open air doing much
to help his system throw off the effects of the narcotic. Jack looked able
to make a night ride.
"You may feel fine," said Mrs. Blake, determined to carry her point, "but
there is no telling when there might be a reaction, and a return of that
dizzy feeling. If you fell off your pony in the dark, at some lonesome
point of the mountain trail, you might not only suffer yourself, but it
would give Mr. Argent's enemies the very chance for which they are
scheming."
"Well, that's so," Jack admitted. "I didn't think of that."
"Then you won't go?" asked Jennie.
"No, I think perhaps I'd better not But is there a good place here to keep
the package?"
"We have a safe," replied Mrs. Blake. "It isn't a very big one, and I
suppose a real burglar wouldn't have much trouble in opening it. But there
aren't any burglars around here--there may be desperate men, but they're
not burglars. They can't work the combination. Besides, we'll be on the
lookout and watch, and you'll stay here all night, Jack, of course."
"Oh yes, thank you, Aunt Matilda. I'll stay as long as I'm not going back
to Rainbow Ridge. And if any attempt is made to rob the safe, well,
there'll be some trouble," and Jack took out his weapon to make sure that
it was fully loaded.
"Oh!" Jennie exclaimed, I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Do what?"
"Flourish that revolver so recklessly. It makes me nervous."
"I'm not reckless," said Jack. "And I've got to be sure it will go off if I
need it."
"I hope you won't need it," said the girl in a low voice.
The matter of Jack's staying having been decided, he helped Jennie sort the
mail and express matter, so there would be no delay in the morning. For the
pony express rider had determined to make an early start.
"I want to get those letters in the hands of Mr. Argent just as soon as I
can," he said. "Then the worry will be off my mind."
"And it is a worry," Jennie admitted. "Any one might think that to have a
mail route over these mountains wasn't very important, but things seem to
have crowded in on you lately."
"You haven't had it altogether easy yourself," said Jack, as he thought of
the bogus inspector. "Ever since I took dad's place there has been
something to worry you."
"Well, it isn't your fault, Jack," she said. "It just seems to be a
combination of circumstances, all more or less connected with Mr. Argent's
mine. But perhaps this is the end and from now on everything will go along
all right. I hope so!"
"So do I!" Jack declared. "Now I think I'll go over and have a look at the
pony. I may have a bit of hard riding to do to-morrow, and I want him to be
in good shape."
"Do you think they'll try again to-morrow to this package away from you?"
asked Jennie, looking around the room apprehensively, as though some one
might be lurking in the shadows.
"There's no telling," Jack responded.
He was glad to get out in the air again for a little while. There was a
fresh breeze blowing from the west, cold and refreshing from the distant
mountains, and the air cleared away from Jack's head the last lingering
feeling caused by the drug.
"Well, Sunger, old boy, they didn't get us that time, did they?" he asked
as he went into the stall and petted his faithful animal. "They didn't get
us though they tried mighty hard. We gave them a run for their money all
right, and we'll do it again if they make another try. How are you,
anyhow?"
He talked to the pony as though the plucky little fellow were human. And
perhaps Sunger understood more than Jack gave him credit for doing.
Certainly he had proved his intelligence that day.
Having seen that his mount, on which so much depended, was well bedded down
and had enough food and water, Jack went back to the Blake home.
"And now for a pleasant evening," suggested Jennie. "We'll have a game of
checkers, Jack. I think I can beat you this time, though you didn't give me
half a chance the last time."
"I'll concede you two men," he said, smiling.
"No, indeed!" she exclaimed, half indignantly. "If I can't beat you evenly
I don't want to win at all. Just because I'm a girl you'll handicap
yourself!"
"Oh well have it your own way," he agreed, smiling at her energetic words.
"Well, isn't this better than riding on the lonesome mountain trail,
thinking every minute you're going to be held up?" asked Jennie, when one
game had been finished, Jack winning as usual.
"It certainly is!" he agreed, as he looked around the pleasant room. "But
then, you know, business before pleasure."
"Not when it isn't absolutely necessary," remarked Mrs. Blake.
The living rooms of Jennie and her mother were upstairs, over the post
office and the express department. There was a spare room that Jack used
when he remained over night with his relatives.
"But I think I'll not sleep there to-night," he said, when preparations
were being made for retiring.
"Why not?" asked Jennie.
"I want to be down here, near the safe," Jack replied, nodding toward the
steel box in which the Argent letters and some registered mail had been
placed for security until morning. "I suppose nothing will happen," he went
on, "but I shall feel better if I am down here."
"But there is no place to sleep--no bed," objected Jennie.
"A blanket and the soft side of a board will do for me," Jack answered,
with a laugh. "I've camped out and slept on the ground often enough not to
mind one night of discomfort. Don't worry, I'll be comfortable enough
here."
"We can bring down the old lounge if you insist on sleeping here," Mrs.
Blake said.
"Well, I should like to, if you don't mind," Jack answered. And so it was
arranged. Jennie and her mother went up stairs, and Jack, without
undressing, stretched out on the couch, pulling the blankets over him, for
the night was cool with the approach of fall.
Jack's improvised bedroom was in a part of the post office, and in the room
adjoining stood the safe, containing the valuable letters. By peering out
of a nearby door Jack could have a glimpse of the strong box.
"Maybe I'll have my trouble for my pains," Jack reasoned, "but I'll worry
less this way. I wonder if they'll really make any attempt to get in here?"
He hardly knew what to think. When he recalled the desperate chance Ryan
had taken to get possession of what he must have known was in the mail
sack, Jack was sure the attempt would not easily be given up. But as the
plotters had so far been successfully evaded and their tricks set at
naught, it might be that they would give up now.
"It's about six of one and half a dozen of the other," Jack mused, "and I
think the odds are in my favor."
He did not feel sleepy. Perhaps the after-effects of the drug were such as
to produce an abnormally active state of the brain, and the brain must be
quiet to have sleep come. For a time Jack lay quietly on his couch. Then he
had an attack of the fidgets, and he tossed restlessly to and fro.
Up stairs all was quiet, and he hoped his aunt and cousin were sleeping in
comfort. Now and then Jack assured himself that his revolver was ready to
his hand. As the hours were ticked off on the office clock, Jack became
more and more nervous.
"Come, this won't do!" he told himself. "I won't be fit for much to-morrow
if I don't get some sleep, and I may have a hard day of it. Guess I'll get
up and have a drink of water. I've heard that's a good thing to do when one
can't sleep."
He tried to move about cautiously, so as not to disturb Jennie and her
mother. But as often happens when one moves about in the dark, objects are
struck that one hardly knew were in the room. The things all seem to mass
themselves under foot.
Jack banged into a table, and knocked over a chair.
"Oh!" screamed Jennie from the room above. "Mother! Jack! They've come!"
"It isn't anything--I just got up to get a drink," quickly explained Jack,
wishing he had kept still. "Sorry to have disturbed you."
"I haven't been asleep," Jennie confessed, calling down the stairway.
"Isn't it nearly morning?"
"A little after twelve," Jack reported, striking a match and looking at his
watch.
Going back to his couch he soon found himself sinking off into a
comfortable doze. He really needed natural sleep after his experience that
day, and a little later he found it stealing over him. He turned on his
side, and, before he knew it, was oblivious to his surroundings.
How long he slept Jack did not know, but he awoke with a start, and he was
at once aware that his awakening had been caused by some sudden noise. For
a moment he was so confused that he could not think clearly, or recall
where he was.
He passed his hand across his head, and this slight action seemed to make
his brain work. Then he sat up. He was at once aware that something unusual
was going on.
There was a dim light shining in through the room where the safe was. And
as Jack had left none burning, and as there were no street lights in Golden
Crossing, the express rider at once realized that some one had brought a
light into the room since he had fallen asleep.
Jack was about to call out, thinking perhaps his aunt or cousin had come
down stairs, but he restrained himself.
"I'll just go and see who it is," he thought. A wild idea came to him. He
reached under his pillow and brought out his revolver.
"If it's any of the outlaws I'll be ready," he murmured.
Moving with the silence of a cat, Jack, who had taken off his shoes,
tiptoed to the door between the two rooms. As he advanced he could hear a
succession of small noises. One was a sort of purring sound. Then came the
tinkle of metal on metal--a faint sound that would not have been audible
but for the deep silence over the place. Then Jack saw a flicker of the
light, as though some one or some object had come near enough to it to
produce a shadow.
Then, as Jack looked, he saw the outlines of a man's head, and the man
seemed bent over, of stooping. Again came the tinkle of metal on metal.
All at once the truth flashed into Jack's mind.
"They're going to blow open the safe" was his thought. "It's the outlaws!
I've caught 'em! They've drilled the safe and are going to blow it open!"
He managed, by going slowly, and trying each board with his foot advanced,
to guard against a creak, finally to reach the door that opened into the
room where the safe stood.
And there, kneeling on the floor in front of the strong box, was a masked
man. He was in front of the safe, and a partly-opened dark lantern gave
light enough for Jack to see what was going on.
The safe was not open, but, as Jack looked, and as he was about to give the
command: "Hands up!" he saw the masked man suddenly spring back and slide,
on rubber-soled shoes, to a far corner.
There was a tiny curl of smoke near the door of the safe. Jack realized,
too late, what it was--the fuse attached to a charge of nitroglycerine. The
safe was about to be blown open.
And then, ere Jack could spring forward and tear loose the fuse, the
explosion came.
It was not loud, but the force of if blew Jack backward, knocking him down.
His head hit on something and, for the moment, he lost consciousness.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE ESCAPE
Jack did not remain senseless long. When he recovered he became aware of a
confused shouting, and an acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils.
"Jack! Jack!" he heard Jennie and her mother shouting. "Jack, are you
hurt?"
By a great effort, overcoming the faintness that seemed to be returning,
Jack scrambled to his feet. It was dead black in the place now.
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