CHAPTER XI
DUMMY LETTERS
Jack was so overjoyed at his queer and unexpected discovery that, for themoment, he forgot all about the approaching horsemen from whom he hadhidden himself. Then there came a thought to him.
"Perhaps the pouches are empty! If the rascals have taken all the mail outand just thrown the empty pouches in here, that isn't such a greatdiscovery after all!"
Once more he felt of the pouches in the darkness. He could tell that theywere well filled--almost the same as when he had tied them to his saddle.
"I don't believe they opened them!" he exclaimed, half aloud. "They musthave been frightened and thrown them in here, thinking to come back forthem when they had the chance."
Then he had another idea.
"And that must be the robbers coming now!" he reasoned. "They're comingback to get the pouches. What shall I do?"
There was but one answer to that question--he must hide the mail andexpress matter in some other place. He paused a moment to listen. Thegalloping hoof-beats were nearer now, but it would still be some timebefore the riders would be opposite the old mine hole. The trail wound inand out at this point, and while sounds came up plainly through therarefied mountain air, bodies themselves could not travel so swiftly.
"I've got five minutes, anyhow," reasoned Jack.
He caught up the mail pouches, one in either hand, though his cut fingersand wrists hurt him cruelly. But he gritted his teeth and kept on. He knewthe ground well. Back of the hole was a slope that extended to a deep patchof woods. Jack would hide himself and the mail in there.
He was too excited to notice whether or not the locks on the bags had beentampered with. In fact he could not see in the dark and he had no time forextended investigation. He just tucked the bags under his arms, and ranwith them. That is he made as good time as was possible under thecircumstances. The ground was rough, and Jack himself was very weak. He hadsuffered much that night.
He found a good hiding place down in between two big logs, and there hestuffed the mail bags, covering them over with dried leaves. Then hehurried back to the hole to get the express stuff.
Fortunately that was light, this trip, and he could easily carry the fewsmall parcels that had been entrusted to him. In fact, in those days, onlylight packages were accepted by the pony riders. The mail was their chiefconcern.
So Jack had no trouble in carrying the sacks of express matter to their newhiding place. This done he had only to watch to see who the approachingriders might be.
Jack worked quickly, and when he had taken the last of his recovered stuffto the place between the two logs he sat down in such a position that hehad a view of the trail. It was getting lighter now, for the dawn was athand. There was a faint glow in the east.
"Well, I certainly have put in a night of it!" Jack thought. "And I may bein for more if these are the robbers coming back. They may look for theirstuff, and make a search if they find it missing. But I don't believethey'll find me."
Nearer came the approaching hoof-beats, Jack peered from his hiding place.He could hear voices now, but the sound was uncertain. It would not do tocall out. He must see who it was that was coming.
Suddenly several men rode into view. Jack counted their heads as they wereoutlined against the faintly-glowing eastern sky. There were seven of them.Unless the robbers had come back reinforced these must be members of asearching party looking for the pony express rider. Yet Jack would take nochances. He must be certain.
"Hello, Jack! Jack Bailey! Pony Express! Where are you?"
This was the cry that echoed on the dying night.
Now there was no doubt of it!
Jack leaped to his feet.
"Here I am!" he cried. "Be with you in a second! Send some one up to helpme carry down the mail!"
He was wildly excited, but he managed to calm himself long enough to lighta match, and ignite a piece of bark. He wanted to indicate his position tothe rescuers. They saw the flare and some one cried:
"All right, Jack! Be with you in a minute! Are you all right?"
It was the voice of Dr. Brown.
"Yes, I'm all right. It was a hold-up," Jack explained. "But I have themail and express stuff back--that is I hope I have it all," he added.
Another moment and he was surrounded by his friends. There were Jed Monty,the stage driver, Dr. Brown, Amos Perkfeld, the president of the expresscompany, Payson Wayde and Mr. Argent, besides Henry Applebaugh, the hotelkeeper, and one of his stable boys.
"Are you all right. Jack?" Dr. Brown repeated, "Your father insisted that Icome out and help look for you."
"Yes, I'm all right. Just cut a little, where I sawed off the ropes on apiece of jagged glass. But does my father know?"
"Yes, your pony came galloping up to the Watson house, all lathered up,with you and the mail missing. We knew right away something had happened,after Mr. Watson came rushing into town with the news. So we organized asearching party at once. But what happened to you?"
Jack told everything, down to his unexpected finding of the mail, and hishiding from the anticipated robbers.
"And so you got everything back!" exclaimed Mr. Perkfeld. "Well, I callthat luck! Of course neither the government nor I could blame you for beingrobbed, but it is good to get it all back."
"And did my pony get home safe?" asked Jack eagerly. Sunger meant much tohim.
"He's all right," said the hotel keeper. "I had one of my boys look afterhim. He's a bit winded, that's all. Smart little horse, that! If ever youwant to sell him, Jack--"
"You needn't ask. I don't," was the quick answer. "But what about myfather, Dr. Brown? Is he worrying, much?"
"Well, some, of course, Jack. But I gave him Some quieting medicine, andhe'll soon hear the good news. He's much better these last few days."
The men questioned Jack at length about the appearance of the hold-up men,but he could not give a very clear description. No one recognized them asany one they knew.
"But we'll get a posse out after them as soon as we get back to town,"declared Mr. Perkfeld. "We'll show them they can't hold up the pony expressand get away with it."
"They didn't get away with it--that's the joke," said Mr. Argent. "I guessJack is right. They probably feared pursuit, or might have gotten an alarm,so they dumped the stuff in the old mine hole and rode away, intending tocome back later. Only Jack got ahead of them."
"That is I hope I did," interposed the pony express rider. "Maybe they havelooted the bags, though they feel as full as when I look them from GoldenCrossing."
"Well, we can soon tell," replied Mr. Argent. "It's getting light enough tosee. The locks have been forced, anyhow, so it isn't any crime for us toopen the United States' mail under these circumstances."
Jack and his rescuers gathered around while the miner opened the bags. Theywere filled with letters, papers and small parcels.
"There was some stuff for you, Mr. Argent," said Jack. "It was the matteryou were expecting, I think."
"Yes," assented the miner.
"I think I played a trick on the robbers," Jack went on. "At least I fixedup a trick, whether it worked or not we'll have to see now. I put yourstuff inside a roll of newspapers thinking they wouldn't look there."
"Good plan," said the miner. "I get your idea. But some of the bundles ofpapers have been opened. Maybe the hold-up men thought they would findsomething to eat inside."
Jack's heart fell at these words. If the robbers had opened the packages ofnewspapers it must have been because they expected to find something hiddenin one of them. And the only thing that was hidden was the parcel ofvaluable letters.
"They evidently opened the bags, looked through the contents, and, afterputting the stuff back in them, hid the pouches in the hole," said Mr.Argent, as he picked up and looked at several packages of newspapers.
"That's the one I wrapped your stuff in, Mr. Argent," said Jack, pointingto one newspaper packet. "But--but it's been opened!" he cried, as he saw,in the fast-comin
g morning light, what had happened.
"Yes, it's been opened," the miner agreed. His voice seemed strangely calmand collected.
"Are--are the letters gone?" faltered Jack.
"Well, they don't seem to be here," went on the miner, while the otherslooked on, somewhat at a loss what to make of the little scene. "No,there's nothing here belonging to me, Jack. Are you sure you put the sealedstuff inside this bundle of papers?"
"I'm positive!" Jack answered. "I remember it very well. It was the onlybundle of papers with that kind of a wrapper."
For a moment there was a silence in the group.
"Well, they are gone," Mr. Argent went on.
Once more Jack wondered at the peculiar manner in which the miner spoke.
"I--I'm awfully sorry, Mr. Argent," said Jack, brokenly. "I thought I wasdoing the best thing to put the letters inside a newspaper bundle. Ifigured that the thieves would pass that over as of no importance. I hadread of such things being done."
"But I guessed wrong. They must have been looking for the things youexpected. They must have been on the watch, and were waiting for me to holdme up. I'm awfully sorry!"
Jack thought of the suspicion that had been directed against his fatherbecause the contents of a letter entrusted to him had been made public. Nowthe son had failed in a trust. It was no excuse to say it could not behelped. The valuable letters were gone, and that alone mattered now. Jacksaw himself disgraced, and the pony express route ridden by some one else.
"I'm--I'm awfully sorry," he said again.
"Oh, you needn't be!" exclaimed Mr. Argent, and he was actually laughing."You needn't be."
"Needn't be! What--what do you mean?" gasped Jack.
"Why I mean that those robbers have had their trouble for their pains!Those letters were only a dummy set, sent through the mail to throw themoff the scent. They contained information of absolutely no value. I thoughtthere might be a hold-up, Jack, though I could not tell when it wouldoccur. So I had my friends send me back a dummy set of letters. It wasthose useless documents which the hold-up men took. The real letters willcome through later. It's a joke on those outlaws all right," and again Mr.Argent chuckled.
Jack of the Pony Express; Or, The Young Rider of the Mountain Trails Page 11
