Mr. Argent paused in the act of handing the sealed documents to the young pony express rider, and turned to look at the man who had called to him. Jack recognized him as a mining expert who did assaying. He had not lived in Rainbow Ridge long, but he had done considerable work elsewhere for Mr. Argent.

"What's that you said?" inquired the miner.

"I said, don't send those letters by Jack!"

The young pony rider felt the hot blood come into his cheeks. To him there seemed to be but one meaning in the warning. He was being distrusted. The service which he performed in riding at top speed from Rainbow Ridge to Golden Crossing was under suspicion.

Was this because of the letter that had put his father under suspicion—the Harrington epistle—or was it because of false reports being spread by those who wanted Jack's place?

Something of what was passing through Jack's mind seemed to communicate itself to the mining assayist, whose name was Payson Wayde. He smiled at our hero, and said:

"Don't worry, my lad. It isn't that I think you wouldn't carry the mail safely. It's that I have just heard something," he went on, turning to Mr. Argent, "that makes it advisable to postpone the sending of those letters now. Hold them until we can investigate a bit."

"Oh, that's different," the miner said. "I thought from the way you spoke that you didn't want Jack to take them."

"Well, I don't; that is, I don't want him to take them just yet. Perhaps you won't want to send them for a week or more after you hear what I have to say," he went on to his employer. "But when we do send them you shall take them, Jack," he said, with a smile of confidence.

The young pony express lad felt better on hearing this.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked the two men.

"Not this trip, Jack, I guess," was the answer from Mr. Argent. "I may have something for you day after to-morrow, though. Not these letters, but some more samples I want checked up. I'll see you on your return trip."

"All right, Mr. Argent. Then I'll be getting along." And, having secured his pouches of mail and express stuff to the saddle, Jack leaped to the back of Sunger and was off at a gallop.

"A fine lad," murmured Mr. Wayde to the miner, as they turned back to the hotel.

"Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going to hurt his feelings by saying it wouldn't be safe to send mail by him."

"Oh, no, indeed. I guess you can trust him, can't you?"

"I should say so! Jack is really doing his father's work, you see, Mr. Bailey being laid up with a severe illness. Jack is working hard to make good on this express route, and I'd hate to see him lose it, though there are several around here who would be glad to take his place. But what's up—why didn't you want me to mail these letters, after our agreement of last night?"

"I'll tell you. I think some of your enemies have gotten wind of what is going on."

"You mean about the new claim I'm going to stake?"

"Hush!" the other cautioned him. "No use in talking secrets out here. Come to my room and I'll tell you all about it. Perhaps it may be well to take Jack Bailey into your confidence a little later. You can decide on that after I've told you just what came to me."

"Well, it all seems a bit mysterious," commented Mr. Argent, "but maybe you know what you're talking about."

And as Jack rode off on his usual trip, the two mining men went into the hotel deeply engaged in conversation.

Jack had several stops to make that morning before getting on the more lonesome part of the trail, where he could give Sunger free rein to make as good time as possible. In some places this would only be a walk, for the road was treacherous and difficult. In other places along a comparatively level slope, or down grade, Sunger would make up for lost time.

As Jack made a turn in the road, he saw, riding ahead of him, two men on horseback. They turned in their saddles at the sound of his steed's hoof-beats, and Jack recognized one of the men as Jake Tantrell. The other man was a stranger to the pony rider.

"I hope Jake doesn't take it into his head to give me some mean talk now," mused Jack.

He made up his mind not to speak to the fellow, but he reckoned without
Jake. For as Jack came up the bully held up a hand as a signal to halt.
Jack was not a little apprehensive at first, but Jake, in surly tones, only
asked:

"You got anything for me?"

"Not this trip," answered Jack.

"Well, I'm expectin' a package and it ought to be here. Keep your eyes open for it, young feller, and don't lose it," was the unnecessary caution. "It's a valuable package."

"I'm not in the habit of losing things," Jack answered, with dignity. As he rode on he heard the stranger remark to Jake:

"They ought to be there now? oughtn't they?"

"Yes," was the reply. "They ought to be there now. But I'm not so sure they'll get what they want. She's a plucky little girl, and she may be so spunky she won't answer their questions."

"Well, they know how to make her," responded the stranger.

"Humph!" mused Jack, as he heard this. "I wonder who it is they are going to try to make answer questions? A spunky little girl, so Jake said. I wonder—"

It suddenly flashed into his mind.

"Could it be Jennie? She's in the post office, and she's sometimes there alone! If some one should try to find out something about the mail or express business they had no right to know!"

Jack hardly knew what to think. But there came a sudden desire in his heart to be near Jennie—to be ready in case she called.

"Come on, Sunger, hit it up!" Jack cried, as this idea came to him. "We've got to hustle and get to Golden Crossing as soon as we can!"

The intelligent beast appeared to know what was said to him, and increased his pace. Jack thundered over the bridge where once he had so nearly had an accident. He thought of the loosened planks, which had been fixed, and again he wondered who had misplaced them—if it had been done by design.

On and on he rode over the trail, until he swung into Golden Crossing. He was ahead of time, and the crowd that usually congregated about the post office to wait for the sorting of the mail was not there.

The road about the little office was thick with dust, and the feet of
Jack's pony made scarcely a sound as he rode up. As he leaped to the ground
he heard through the open windows of the place voices in loud conversation.
One voice was that of a man, and said:

"Well, now, miss, you'd better tell us what we want to know. We'll find out somehow, and the more trouble you give us, the more trouble we'll give you. If you don't—"

"There's no use asking me!" broke in the voice of Postmistress Jennie herself. "You're not going to get that information, and the sooner you understand that the better!"

"Say!" exclaimed the third voice—that of a man—"if you don't tell us, we'll—"

"Mail!" cried Jack, in a loud voice, as he sprang into the place through the window. "I thought I was too early, but I guess I'm just in time," he grimly added, as he swung around and faced two men who stood in front of Jennie Blake.