The post office at this lively hamlet was managed by a woman by the odd name of Budd Grass, who had received her appointment about the time Little Snap had begun to carry the mail.
The postboy dashed along the crooked street, lined with its rude habitations, until he came in sight of the post office, where he saw the postmistress standing in the doorway, an anxious look upon her handsome features.
She was a woman of about thirty, and had won Little Snap's friendship at the first.
"You are late," she said, by way of greeting. "I began to get anxious about you, for I have heard reports of trouble among the bushbinders, and I was fearful they might molest you. You have had trouble of some kind."
Two or three loafers were in the office, and just outside of the door Little Snap saw a younger brother of the twain he had met so unceremoniously on Eagle's Tracks, so he did not say what he wished.
Instead he said:
"Did you ever know me to run into any trouble I could not get out of, Budd?"
"Not a bit, Dix Lewis," replied the postmistress, taking the pouch and retiring to the little room dignified by the name of "private office."
While she was sorting the mail, Little Snap returned to the side of Jack, and caressing the animal's arched neck, began to talk to it in a way he often did.
In the midst of his affectionate treatment of his loved horse, the postboy felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Pewee Burrnock standing by his side.