"Yes, Jack, I am. I wish I could prove that it wasn't my fault."
"Don't worry, Dad! Your friends know it wasn't your fault, and some day we may be able to prove to your enemies that it wasn't."
"I hope so, Jack, but I've about given up," was the weary answer.
Jack had carefully kept from his father all the little worries that had occurred since the change in the pony express business had been made. He had said nothing about the misplaced planks of the bridge, nor about the two strangers.
"What's the use of worrying dad?" reflected our hero. "He has troubles enough of his own. I'll keep mine to myself."
That afternoon, late, as Jack was waiting at the Golden Crossing post office for the mail, a messenger rode in to say that the stage would be delayed because of a slight accident.
"But the driver wants you to wait," the messenger told Jack, "as there are some important letters to go to Rainbow Ridge, and be forwarded from there on."
"All right, I'll wait," promised Jack.
"It will mean a night ride," suggested Jennie.
"I know it, but it can't be helped. It's part of the game. I'm not afraid."