The mass of water gradually subsided, though the heavy rains had made a river of the mountain brook, and it was several days before it went back to its normal level. Then the work of repairing the damage of the flood was taken up.
When Jack saw, that night, that he had done all he could, he turned back on the trail, for the mail must not be delayed longer than could be helped, and already nearly three hours had been lost.
It was almost morning when he rode into Rainbow Ridge with the first news of the burst dam. He made light of his own part in the affair, but that came out later, and much honor was paid the lad. He bore his honors modestly, however, and the greatest praise—or what he considered such—was when his father said:
"I'm proud of you, Jack, my boy!"
Relief for the unfortunate flood victims was sent both from Rainbow Ridge and Golden Crossing, and when Jennie heard of the disaster she insisted on doing up some of her own clothing and forwarding it to some of the girls who had lost theirs.
Every one helped, as is always the case at a time like that, and though many families lost everything, still there was no mourning for lives that never could be given back. Jack had provided against that by his brave ride.
It was two weeks after the flood, and now the mountains were calm and peaceful again. The long season of rain had passed, and the weather was glorious. Jack enjoyed every moment of it as he rode the trail.
"It certainly is a great life!" he reflected. "I'm glad the way is so rough, otherwise they'd be wanting me to use a motor-cycle or an automobile. But none of them for me, while I have you, Sunger!"
The pony whinnied his answer, as Jack patted him on the neck.
"Well, anything big to-day, Jennie?" he asked, as he rode up to the Golden Crossing office one afternoon. "Anything important? Why, what's the matter?" he asked in some concern. "You look worried."