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.