"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked the two men.
"Not this trip, Jack, I guess," was the answer from Mr. Argent. "I may have something for you day after to-morrow, though. Not these letters, but some more samples I want checked up. I'll see you on your return trip."
"All right, Mr. Argent. Then I'll be getting along." And, having secured his pouches of mail and express stuff to the saddle, Jack leaped to the back of Sunger and was off at a gallop.
"A fine lad," murmured Mr. Wayde to the miner, as they turned back to the hotel.
"Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going to hurt his feelings by saying it wouldn't be safe to send mail by him."
"Oh, no, indeed. I guess you can trust him, can't you?"
"I should say so! Jack is really doing his father's work, you see, Mr. Bailey being laid up with a severe illness. Jack is working hard to make good on this express route, and I'd hate to see him lose it, though there are several around here who would be glad to take his place. But what's up—why didn't you want me to mail these letters, after our agreement of last night?"
"I'll tell you. I think some of your enemies have gotten wind of what is going on."
"You mean about the new claim I'm going to stake?"
"Hush!" the other cautioned him. "No use in talking secrets out here. Come to my room and I'll tell you all about it. Perhaps it may be well to take Jack Bailey into your confidence a little later. You can decide on that after I've told you just what came to me."