"He isn't as bad off as he might be," mused Little Snap. "Well, I will leave the precious pair to look after themselves."
The clatter of a horse's hoofs in the Devil's Wash Bowl at that moment told that Jack had reached the foot of the descent and was beginning to climb the opposite heights.
The postboy quickly placed his hand to his lips in such a way as to emit a short, sharp whistle, which rang up and down the valley with a peculiar clearness.
CHAPTER II.
THE MISSING MAIL.
No sooner had Little Snap's shrill note rang on the air than the sound of the hoof strokes suddenly ceased, and a glad whinny answered him.
"Noble Jack!" exclaimed the postboy; "I wouldn't give you for all the horses I ever knew, and I love them all. You are the best friend I have."
"Quickening his pace, he descended into the huge basin denominated the Wash Bowl, meeting Jack, who was retracing his course at the bottom.
"Good Jack!" said the young master, gently, while he patted the head of the faithful steed affectionately. "But we must tarry here no longer. On, my boy, to Greenbrier."
Then Little Snap bounded lightly into the saddle, and, with a hasty glance backward, urged Jack away from the lonely place, half expecting to be attacked by some foe springing from behind the frowning rocks at every moment.
But, to his relief, the ascent was made without molestation, and from the summit he looked down upon the little town of Greenbrier in the valley of the river of that name with a feeling of comparative safety.