Jack of the Pony Express by Frank V. Webster (good inspirational books .txt) 📖

of your way here, aren't you?"

"Yes. I had to ride out to get the mail. Stage broke down again. I'm going in to Golden Crossing now, and then on to the Ridge. That is, I am if I can get this stone out."

"Say, if you don't mind, let me have a chance at it," suggested the man, getting off his horse with an ease that showed he was accustomed to the saddle. "I used to know something about smithy work, and I've got a better hook than the one you're using."

"Well, if you don't mind, I wish you would have a try," said Jack, straightening up his bent and aching back. "It seems to have gotten the best of me."

The stranger patted Sunger, who sniffed at him and seemed satisfied. The pony rubbed his velvet nose against the man's coat. This was his way of making friends. Sunger did not do this with every one, either, and Jack felt more interest in the newcomer on that account.

"Now, let's see what we have here," the man went on, as he lifted the pony's lame foot. "Oh, my name's Ryan," he added, as an afterthought.

"And mine's Jack Bailey," said our hero, completing the introduction.

"Glad to meet you. I'm riding your way, and I'll go on with you after I get you fixed up, or, rather, your pony.

"Think you can do it?" Jack asked.

"Oh yes, I'll soon have this out. You almost had it yourself, but you were working at it the wrong way."

He proved that he knew what he was talking about a few minutes later, by exclaiming:

"There it is!"

He held up the stone that had caused all the trouble. It was of peculiar shape, which accounted for the manner in which it had become wedged fast.

"Thanks!" Jack exclaimed. "Now the question is about the shoe. Is it so loose that I can't go on?"

"It is a bit loose," the man said. "But I can fix that for you. I carry a spare shoe or two myself. They wouldn't fit your pony, for they are too large. But I've got a hammer and nails in my saddle bags. I ride about a good bit, and my nag often casts a shoe, so I go prepared. I'll have this one tightened up in a jiffy."

Jack watched Ryan interestedly. The man seemed very capable, and it is often the custom of cowboys or range riders to carry with them spare shoes, nails and a hammer, to reset a shoe of their mounts when far from a blacksmith shop.

In a few minutes the shoe was as tight as necessary, and Jack could again mount his pony and ride on.

"I'm a thousand times obliged to you," he said to Ryan. "It was quite a job, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes. Not so hard as some I've tackled, though. But it's a warm day, and I think after that we're entitled to a little refreshment. What do you say?"

For a moment Jack did not understand.

"Refreshment," he repeated. "There's no place around here where you can get anything to eat. No places short of going back to Tuckerton. And I'm not hungry enough for that."

"Hungry? Shucks, no! I'm not myself. I wasn't talking about anything to eat. I meant something to drink."

"Oh," said Jack, and a queer sort of feeling came over him. "Well, there's no ice cream soda place around here, either," and he smiled.

"Ice cream soda? Shucks! I'm talking about a man's drink! And I don't need any one to wait on me, either. I carry it with me. It's safer in case of emergency," and he laughed in what he evidently meant to be taken as a friendly fashion.

"Here, have a smile with me," he went on, producing a pocket flask. "It's stuff I can recommend," he added. "It'll do you good after working over that shoe. Come on, help yourself, and then I'll take what you leave, though there's plenty in that bottle, and more where that came from."

He held out a dark flask to Jack.

Jack backed away and shook his head.

"No, thank you," he said, firmly.

"What!" the man exclaimed in seeming surprise. "You don't drink?"

"No," Jack replied. "It wouldn't do in my business, you know. Besides, I wouldn't drink anyhow."

"Oh, shucks! Just one wouldn't hurt you, and there's no one to know. Your boss won't find it out, for I won't tell. After going through what you have you need a drink."

"Perhaps I do," said Jack with a smile, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "but I don't want that kind of a drink. There's a spring just a few steps on, and it's the coldest and best water for miles around. I'm going to have some of that, and give the pony some, too. Your horse would appreciate it, I think."

"Humph! Water may be all right for horses, but I don't care for it," was the somewhat sneering answer. "Then you won't drink with me, Jack Bailey?"

"No, thank you. I'll join you in a tin dipper of spring water, but that's all."

"Well, if you won't you won't, I suppose," the man said, slowly. "Everybody to their notion. I don't take much, but I like a little now and then. So here goes."

Jack did not stay to see what the man did, but walked on to the spring with Sunger. The pony showed no trace of lameness, now, for which Jack was glad, as he had a hard ride ahead of him.

As the lad was getting himself a drink, and letting Sunger get some from a pool below the spring, Jack heard the sound of a galloping horse, and looked up in surprise.

CHAPTER XVIII A QUEER FEELING

Jack's first thought was that Ryan had ridden off in haste after having helped himself to a drink from the flask, but, somewhat to his surprise, he saw the man who had removed the stone from the pony's hoofs still standing beside his horse. The galloping came from another rider who seemed in haste. He waved his hand to Jack, and cried:

"Hold on! Wait!"

"Well, I wonder what's up now?" mused the pony express lad. "He seems to want me."

"I was afraid I wouldn't catch you," exclaimed the young fellow who had ridden up in such haste. Jack recognized him then as Harry Montgomery, an employee of the stage line that ran out of Golden Crossing to the west.

"Do you want me?" Jack asked.

"Yes. They forgot to give you some important mail stuff when you rode out to the stage a while ago. The stage has come on into Tuckerton now, and the driver sent me on to see if I could catch you. He wants you to ride back into town, if you will, and get the stuff he forgot to give you."

"Why didn't he let you bring it?" asked Jack, not much relishing the ride back. It would delay him still further, and he had enough valuable mail in his possession now without wishing for any more.

"The driver said he didn't like to have me carry it, as I'm not supposed to do that. Besides he wants you to receipt for it. But if I couldn't catch up to you I guess he intended to hold the stuff over until your next trip."

"Oh well, as long as it's only a case of a mile's ride back to Tuckerton, I suppose I'd better do it," Jack reasoned. "You wouldn't have caught me, only my pony went lame and I was delayed getting the stone out," he said to Harry. "This gentleman helped me."

"Oh, it wasn't much," said Ryan, nodding to Harry. The latter did not appear to know him. The flask which had been in so much evidence a little while before was not in sight now.

"Yes, I'll ride back and get the stuff," Jack decided. It had come into his mind that perhaps the forgotten package contained the letters Mr. Argent was expecting. They might have been sent by special mail, and not be in the regular sacks. It would be best for Jack to go, though he would be delayed.

"And if it's too late, and if I think they are the letters about the secret mine, I won't do any night-riding," Jack decided, mentally.

"Well, I'm glad I caught you," Harry said, as he turned his horse about.

"Yes, it would have been too bad if you had had your ride for nothing," the pony express lad said. "Well, Sunger, old boy, we'll hit the back trail again for a little while," and Jack swung himself up into the saddle.

Somewhat to Jack's surprise, when Ryan mounted, he, also, turned his horse's head in the direction of Tuckerton.

"Are you going back, too?" Jack asked him.

"Yes, I guess I might as well."

"But I thought you were going to Golden Crossing."

"So I am. But it just occurred to me that I am hungry, and there's an eating place in Tuckerton, isn't there?"

"Yes," answered Harry. "But it isn't a very good one."

"Oh, well, when a man's hungry he can't be too particular. I guess I can stand it."

The three rode back together, and in a short time had reached the small town. The stage had pulled in, temporary repairs having been made, and the driver who handed Jack a sealed package expressed regret at having to bring him back.

"It was all my fault, too," the driver said. "I ought to have remembered about this special package, for they told me there was some hurry about it. But I was sort of knocked out by the accident, and it slipped my mind. I'm glad you've got it now."

Jack looked at it. The packet might contain letters, though it did not look large enough to hold maps of any size. And, to Jack's surprise, it was addressed, not to Mr. Argent, but to the postmaster at Rainbow Ridge. He had been so sure that it was the valuable letters and papers the miner expected that for the moment Jack almost expressed his astonishment. But Ryan and some others were standing near-by, and the lad felt it better to keep still.

Besides, the letters Mr. Argent expected might be in the regular mail bags, which Jack carried on his saddle, those bags not having been opened since he received them from the broken-down stage.

"Well, I guess now you're all right," the stage driver went on. "You can get on your way, Jack. I won't have to call you back again."

"I hope not. I'm late enough as it is."

"I'm sorry, my boy."

"Well, it couldn't be helped, I suppose. I don't want to make a night trip,
If I can help it."

"Do you often do that?" asked Ryan.

"Oh, occasionally. But since I was held up once I don't hanker after it."

"Were you held up?" Ryan seemed much interested.

"Yes," Jack said, but he did not go into details. He had no time.

"I say!" exclaimed Ryan, as Jack was about to ride off again. "It wouldn't be a bad idea for you to have a blacksmith look at that shoe I fixed. I did the best I could, but I can't guarantee that it will stay on. There's a smithy right across the way."

"I believe I will do that," Jack said. "It won't be any joke if Sunger casts a shoe when I get on the mountain trail. I'll take him over to the shop."

The smith was busy, but Jack decided to wait.

"I'll have plenty of time if I don't have to make a night ride," he remarked.

"Say, while you're waiting," suggested Ryan, who had followed Jack over to the blacksmith shop, "why not come and have a bite to eat with me. You wouldn't drink with me, but you can't object to eating."

He seemed so much in earnest about it, and so friendly, that Jack did not like to refuse. After all, Ryan had been very helpful to him, and the matter of drinking Jack could overlook. It was more or less a settled custom in the West, anyhow.

"I'm not very hungry," Jack began, "but—"

"Oh, well, come and have a cup of coffee," suggested Ryan. "It won't take long, and by the time we're through with our little snack your pony will be ready for you. Come along."

"All