At daylight it seemed that every inhabitant of Six Roads was astir, and anxious, excited groups began to collect here and there.
Excepting Mrs. Lewis, Mr. Rimmon was perhaps the most anxious person, and he kept an almost continual watch up and down the road.
"It was the height of folly for him to have started off in that way. It is utterly impossible for him to get here by six, and if he don't, God have mercy on his home. I am powerless to help them. What! Can it be so near six? Here comes Shag for the mail bag."
Mounted upon a tall, raw-boned horse, the postmaster of Hollow Tree rode up in front of the post office.
"Good-morning, Mr. Rimmon. I s'pose ye heerd what th' judge sed las' evenin' thet I'm to carry th' mail arter this. I hev resigned the Tree office, so it's all regular. Seein' I'm new to th' bizness, I thought mebbe ye wouldn't object to lettin' me start a leetle arly th' fust time."
"I shall object, most decidedly, Mr. Shag."
"Hev yit yer own way, Mr. Rimmon, though ye'll find I ain't a boy to be run over. Ye'll let me hev it at six sharp, or thar'll be war in th' United States camp."
To this the postmaster made no reply, while one and all waited the outcome of this trying scene.
In the midst of the fearful ordeal the sun rose above the crest of the distant mountains, and then a murmur ran along the expectant crowd.
"It's six o'clock!" cried Sheriff Brady, consulting his watch. "The time is up, Mrs. Lewis, and the boy has not come, as I knew he wouldn't. I have kept my word, and you cannot expect any more."