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.