"Perhaps it was all for the best," Jennie admitted. "But I do hope nothing like that happens again."
"Same here!" exclaimed Jack. "Now have you the mail ready?"
And then, for a time, it was business.
For two weeks or more Jack rode the trail, back and forth, carrying the mail and the pony express matter. He was not again disturbed, and Mr. Perkfeld gave orders that, except in case of great necessity, he should not make night trips.
Nothing more was seen of the hold-up men, and Mr. Argent heard no news concerning his mining business. Whether or not those who had taken the bogus letters tried to locate the rich claim was not disclosed.
"But the real letters will come along some day—any day now—Jack," the miner said, "And when they do—"
"When they do no one shall get them away from me!" Jack exclaimed, and he was not boasting. He meant it. And you shall see how he kept his promise.
Several more attempts were made on the part of those who wanted Jack's place to supplant him as pony express rider. But he had made himself a favorite with the stage drivers, as well as with Mr. Perkfeld, who said Jack could keep on riding the trail until his father was ready to resume his duties. Several mean little things occurred, which, like the loose planks in the bridge, Jack felt were designed to make trouble for him. But he avoided them, fortunately, and none was as serious as the bridge incident. The author of that remained a mystery, though Jack had his suspicions.
Jake Tantrell continued to sneer at our hero. He made several efforts to get Jack's place, even offering to do the work for less money, but his offer was not accepted.
Then came an unpleasant season, when the fall rains set in. The sun seemed to have forgotten how to shine, and Jack fairly lived in his poncho, or big rubber riding blanket that went over his head, protecting him and the mail bags.