"Yes, but maybe they chloroformed you. Such things have been done."
"No, that wasn't done," declared Jack with conviction.
"Well, you'd gone through enough, in that drugging business, to make anybody tired enough to sleep hard," one man said. "They can't blame you."
"No indeed!" agreed another.
But Jack blamed himself. He felt that he had failed in his trust. He did not know what to do. His brain seemed incapable of thinking. If he could only catch the robber and get back the letters!
As he went along with the others over the mountain trail in the early morning, he looked eagerly about, as though he might see some sign of the much-wanted rascal. But the trail was deserted, save for the posse.
They rode into Rainbow Ridge, and that place was soon buzzing with the startling news. As soon as possible a number of men were started out through the mountains, to cover even the bridle paths and trails seldom used. All strangers who could not give a good account of themselves were to be brought into the town.
Mr. Argent was told of the stealing of the valuable letters. He looked grave when Jack explained what had taken place.
"Of course it isn't your fault, Jack," the miner said, "and I'm not in the least blaming you."
"I wanted to come through with them last night, but—"