"Well, I don't; that is, I don't want him to take them just yet. Perhaps
you won't want to send them for a week or more after you hear what I have
to say," he went on to his employer. "But when we do send them you shall
take them, Jack," he said, with a smile of confidence.

The young pony express lad felt better on hearing this.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked the two men.

"Not this trip, Jack, I guess," was the answer from Mr. Argent. "I may have
something for you day after to-morrow, though. Not these letters, but some
more samples I want checked up. I'll see you on your return trip."

"All right, Mr. Argent. Then I'll be getting along." And, having secured
his pouches of mail and express stuff to the saddle, Jack leaped to the
back of Sunger and was off at a gallop.

"A fine lad," murmured Mr. Wayde to the miner, as they turned back to the
hotel.

"Yes, indeed. I was afraid you were going to hurt his feelings by saying it
wouldn't be safe to send mail by him."

"Oh, no, indeed. I guess you can trust him, can't you?"

"I should say so! Jack is really doing his father's work, you see, Mr.
Bailey being laid up with a severe illness. Jack is working hard to make
good on this express route, and I'd hate to see him lose it, though there
are several around here who would be glad to take his place. But what's
up--why didn't you want me to mail these letters, after our agreement of