With Sammy's good-night ringing in his ears, Little Snap dashed up in front of the post office, where he was met by an excited crowd.
The postmaster was just locking the door of his store, in which he kept the post office.
"Here he comes, as true as you live!" said the well-known voice of Morton Meiggs.
"You have done your worst to-night, it seems, Mr. Lewis," he added, turning to the postboy.
"The mail, Mr. Anderson," said Little Snap, paying no heed to the words of Meiggs.
"The hour is past for me to keep the office open," replied that official, "and I refuse to accept the mail pouch unless you can show proper reason for coming in at this late hour."
"That's it, Anderson; stand up for your rights," interposed Meiggs. "We will soon know how long we have got to put up with this treatment. I expected letters to-night, which it is dollars' damage to me not to get before this time. But, as I said, we shall soon know how much longer Uncle Sam is going to permit this way of doing business."
Little Snap waited until Meiggs had finished speaking, when he said to the postmaster:
"Mr. Anderson, if you have heard of the terrible disaster in Tripping Waters Valley to-day, you know I have sufficient reason for coming in late. If you have not heard of it, you will in due season. Will you take the mail or not?"
"Bring it in," was the curt reply.