wrist. The fellow, however, kept one hand on the bridle of the pony, so
that there was no chance for Jack to make a sudden spurt to escape.

"The game is we want what you've got with you," said one of the men. "And
you might as well admit that we're going to get it. You may be a pretty
smart lad, or think you are, but I guess we've got you right now!"

"No, you've got me all wrong," Jack answered bitterly. "And while you were
about it why didn't you bring a few more along. Four crooks seem hardly
enough to hold up one pony express rider. Aren't you afraid I'll do
something to you?"

He spoke lightly--sarcastically. He was fighting for time. Trying to think
of some plan of escape. He even thought perhaps some one might come along
to whom he could appeal for help. But there was as small a chance of that
as there was of his being able to get away by his own efforts.

"I suppose you could have scared up half a dozen more like yourselves," he
went on. "There are more outlaws in the mountains. Or, maybe, you have
another force back on the trail, and another ahead here."

"Say, young feller, none of your fresh talk now!" cried one of the men,
fiercely. "I won't stand it!"

"No, let's get it over with," remarked another.

At these words a chill of fear, such as he had not experienced before,
seemed to flash over Jack. Did the men mean to harm him--put him to death,
perhaps, to hide the living witness of their crime? He tried to be brave,
but again came that faint feeling, and his head ached where he had been