"I don't understand it," admitted the postmaster, hesitating in his manner. "You must be knowing to this."
"Are you going to let me have that mail, or must I go on without it?" asked Little Snap.
"How is it the Tree mail has not been taken out?" asked Mr. Anderson.
"The office was closed when I came along, and I could do no better than to bring its mail along. I will leave it in the morning."
"I should think you would—after you have had a night to look it over."
"I don't see as I can do any better than to let him have the bag," said Mr. Anderson.
"Do so, and you will lose your own head," cried Meiggs. "This has gone as far as it is going. I understand two of those missing letters were for me. I want my letters. Now, Mr. Lewis, give up those letters, or you don't leave this yard."
"I should like to see you stop me," replied Little Snap. "I know my footing, and, for the last time, I demand that mail pouch, Mr. Anderson. I am needed at home at this very moment. I have enough to contend with outside of those who should be my supporters."
Little Snap showed by his tone that he was in earnest, and as he concluded, the postmaster threw the pouch across Tom's withers, saying:
"Where is the man who went down with you?"