"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.