"Well, Jack," asked the old man, as the lad paused for a moment's chat, "they didn't catch that there safe burglar, did they?"
"No, haven't seen a trace of him, worse luck! Anybody been along to-day?"
"Why, yes, there was a feller here not long ago. He stopped for a drink, and asked for a bite to eat. He looked as if he was in hard luck."
"What sort of a fellow was he?"
"Oh well, I didn't take particular notice. He was afoot."
"Afoot?" cried Jack. "That's queer."
"I thought so myself," agreed the old man. And it was queer to see a man traveling afoot in a country where riding and driving was universal. "I asked him where his horse was, and he said down the road a piece!"
"That was also queer," Jack said. "I wonder why he didn't ride right up here? No excuse for walking when one has a horse."
"That's what I thought," the old man went on. "But I didn't want to ask too many questions. He didn't seem relishin' answerin' 'em."
"Which way was he going?" asked the pony express lad.