"The warning was a scare, or Raggles was mistaken," he said, aloud. "But I will confess it was trying. Move a little faster, Fairy."
Little Snap was never accosted by the old hermit on his downward trips, so he met with no interruption until Salt Works was reached, where he changed horses and resumed his journey with less than fifteen minutes' delay.
"Our future congressman seems to be well favored to-day," remarked the postmaster at Upper Loop, when Little Snap was ready to start on his return trip at two o'clock. "He has no less than six registered letters, and I imagine some of them are valuable."
The postboy paid little heed to this careless speech, not realizing how vividly he was to recall it before he got home.
"Well, well," said the gossipy clerk at the Salt Works office, "the Honorable Jason is in luck this time. Six registered letters, and a nomination in each one, I suppose. To speak the truth, I suspicion he would give all these letters for a seat in Congress."
Once more borne by a good steed, Little Snap began his tedious ascent over the mountain forming the huge backbone between the valleys of the Great and Little Kanawha and Greenbrier.
He found Uncle Solitaire awaiting him under the live oak, with the usual question and melancholy message, after which he reached Greenbrier without adventure.
"Six registered letters for Mr. Warfield," said the postmistress at Greenbrier, as if there was a conspiracy to keep this fact fresh in Little Snap's mind.
However, he heard nothing further of the precious letters until he had accomplished his hard day's work and given the mail pouch into the hands of Mr. Rimmon at Six Roads.
Nothing unusual had occurred at home during the day, and after supper the postboy went into the post office, where he found a dozen or more men gathered.