For a moment Jack was so overcome by dizziness and a faint, sick feeling, that he could do nothing. Everything seemed black before his eyes, a blackness not of night, but the blackness of a fainting fit.

The young express rider reeled in his saddle, but he kept his seat by a great effort. Then he fought back the growing faintness that was overcoming him.

"I mustn't give in! I mustn't give in!" he told himself fiercely, over and over again. "I mustn't give way! I won't! I've got to protect the valuable letters—the mail—the express."

Then, somehow, Jack's head cleared. He felt more able to hold himself back from that terrible black void. He straightened up in the saddle, and his vision was again normal.

In the darkness he could see several men, three at least, standing around him. These three were not mounted, though off to one side of the trail Jack could see several dark forms which he could make out to be horses. Then he saw, as he turned in his saddle, a man behind him on a big horse. This man held something in his hand, and Jack guessed it was this individual who had struck him. All four of the men wore masks.

"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.