"Half the stuff's run out," he added. "That's what has been mussing up the mail. Pitch this truck out and we'll skip the rest of the sugar out of the bottom of the bag."
It took them some time to deposit the various bundles of letters and packets among the wineberry bushes beside the trail, after which Mr. Webster shook a pound or two of loose wet sugar into the opened package. It appeared to be mixed with flour and other substances, and Harry smiled as he glanced at it.
"It's off its color," he remarked.
"That," said Mr. Webster, "will serve Steve right and save me trouble. The next time he wants sugar he'll walk into the settlement and pack it out himself. When you've put that truck back the mail will go ahead."
They threw the things back into the bag, but while they were engaged in this task Harry held up a bundle of letters to the light and separated two of them from the rest.
"These are dad's," he mused. "It strikes me they'd be safer in my pocket."
They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they stopped at a ranch where they delivered a newspaper and a pound of coffee, and then plodded on in thick darkness which was only intensified by the patch of uncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard or two in front of them. Even this failed them presently when Frank fell and dropped the lantern. It went out, and neither he nor Harry, who struck a match, could open it.
"I'm afraid I've bent the catch," said Frank.
"It's not going to matter much," Mr. Webster answered. "I guess we can fix the thing when we reach my place, and there isn't another ranch until we come to it."
They trudged along in silence for another hour. The trail seemed darker than ever, and it was oppressively still. Even the great trunks a few yards away were invisible, and once or twice Frank walked into the bushes that clustered among them. At last, however, the sound of running water came out of the gloom and grew louder until the boy fancied that there must be a rapid creek somewhere below them. Neither he nor Harry had been that way before. As they expected to get some shooting, he was carrying the double gun, which was beginning to feel heavy, while Harry had brought a rifle. When the roar of water had grown so loud that they could scarcely hear each other's footsteps, Mr. Webster stopped.