Jack of the Pony Express; Or, The Young Rider of the Mountain Trails

by Frank V. Webster

Jack was reeling in the saddle now. He could hardly hold himself upright. Once or twice he nearly fell out, but clutched the pommel in time. Once or twice, too, the pony stopped, but Jack urged him on. He knew his only hope lay either in reaching Golden Crossing, or in some one on the trail seeing his plight and looking after him. But there was not much chance of this last, for the disabled stage would not be along for some hours yet.

Then, as he thought of what it would mean to him to have the mail robbed a second time while in his possession, a desperate plan came into Jack's mind.

"I'll tie myself to the saddle!" he whispered "I've got plenty of rope for that. I'll lash myself fast. Then if I do get unconscious, which I'm afraid is going to happen, I won't fall out.

"And when I tie myself fast, Sunger," Jack went on, speaking as loudly as he could; "when I'm lashed fast, and don't know anything, you've got to go on and carry the mail—and me. You've got to take the mail safe through to Jennie at Golden Crossing, and you've got to do it without my guidance. You know the trail, Sunger! You've got to take the mail through! It's the only way to save it!"

Jack felt that it was useless longer to try to fight off the effects of the drug. It was too strong and powerful for him, and he realized that he must have been given a heavy dose. He could hardly see now.

Jack carried with him a light but strong rope for often he had to tie mail pouches on the saddle behind him. With hands that trembled, with his head aching terribly, and his eyes burning, Jack managed to pass about his legs, and under the saddle girths, several turns of the rope. He made himself fast in the saddle, so he would not fall off.

Then, when the last knot had been tied and made secure, Jack fell forward on his pony's neck.

"Go on, Sunger!" he said feebly. "Go on to Jennie and Golden Crossing. It's my only chance. You've got to run now as you never ran before! You've got to carry the mail! Go on, Sunger! Don't fail me now, or it will be all up with dad and me! Don't fail, Sunger! Go on!"

With this last urging Jack's eyes closed, and he felt himself going off into unconsciousness.

Then the brave and intelligent Sunger sprang forward. Somehow the pony must have understood. At any rate, he knew that all haste must be made on the trail. He was carrying the mail, and Jack always urged him to top speed on such occasions.