Part 9 (1/2)

”Oh, don't worry about that, Dad! I'm on the job, you know. I may not be doing as well as you, but I'm taking the mail and express stuff back and forth, and I haven't heard any complaints yet.”

”Then you haven't lost anything, Jack, and nothing has been taken from you?”

”No, Dad. Not a thing.”

”And the contents of no important letters have leaked out?”

”Not yet. But I know what you're thinking of, Dad. It's about that Harrington letter.”

”Yes, Jack, I am. I wish I could prove that it wasn't my fault.”

”Don't worry, Dad! Your friends know it wasn't your fault, and some day we may be able to prove to your enemies that it wasn't.”

”I hope so, Jack, but I've about given up,” was the weary answer.

Jack had carefully kept from his father all the little worries that had occurred since the change in the pony express business had been made. He had said nothing about the misplaced planks of the bridge, nor about the two strangers.

”What's the use of worrying dad?” reflected our hero. ”He has troubles enough of his own. I'll keep mine to myself.”

That afternoon, late, as Jack was waiting at the Golden Crossing post office for the mail, a messenger rode in to say that the stage would be delayed because of a slight accident.

”But the driver wants you to wait,” the messenger told Jack, ”as there are some important letters to go to Rainbow Ridge, and be forwarded from there on.”

”All right, I'll wait,” promised Jack.

”It will mean a night ride,” suggested Jennie.

”I know it, but it can't be helped. It's part of the game. I'm not afraid.”

But when Jack helped Jennie sort the mail a little later, and found among the letters and parcels some large envelopes addressed to Mr. Argent and sealed with red wax, a strange feeling came over him.

”Here are those answers,” he thought. ”These must be the important papers about the secret mine. And I've got to carry them through on a night ride.

Well, I wish they hadn't come just at this time, but there's no help for it. I've got to take them through.”

He paused for a moment, with the important letters in his hand.

”What are those?” asked Jennie.

”Oh just some stuff for our town,” Jack answered, indifferently.

In a flash he had made up his mind not to tell his cousin of the value and importance of the mail that night. She would worry if she knew what he was carrying along the trail after dark.

And Jack had another plan. He realized that the enemies, or business rivals of Mr. Argent, (call them what you will) might know of the arrival of the doc.u.ments.

”They may try to get them away from me,” reflected Jack. ”Now, I've' read somewhere that the best way to throw off suspicion is to make something important look unimportant. That's what I'm going to do.”

There were a number of newspapers in the mail. While Jennie was out of the room a moment Jack opened one bundle of papers, folded the red-sealed letters up in one of the papers, put back the wrapper and tossed the package into the pouch he would carry over his saddle.