CHAPTER XXV
THE UNITED STATES MAIL
The boys reached the ranch the next morning, and Mr. Oliver, whofollowed by a different route a couple of days later, seemed satisfiedwith the result of his journey.
"If the dope men leave us alone for the next three weeks we're notlikely to be troubled with them afterward," he said. "Barclay expectsvery shortly to be ready for what he calls his coup."
"I suppose he didn't mention exactly when he would bring it off?" Harryremarked.
"No," said Mr. Oliver with a laugh. "Barclay usually waits until he'scertain before he moves, and he's not addicted to spoiling things byhaste. In the meanwhile you may as well keep your eyes sharply open."
"Won't it be awkward to communicate with him if you have to go toBannington's every time you mail a letter?" Frank asked.
"That's a point which naturally occurred to me," Mr. Oliver answered."There are, however, reasons for believing that Barclay will be able toget over the difficulty."
He said nothing further on the subject, but it cropped up again oneevening when Mr. Webster arrived at the ranch in time for supper. Hetold them that he had finished the bridge he had gone away to build, andwhen they sat about the stove after the meal was over he turned to Mr.Oliver.
"Have you heard that Porteous has been fired out of the store andthey've got a man down from Tacoma?" he asked.
"No," replied Mr. Oliver indifferently.
"Anyway, you don't seem much astonished."
Mr. Oliver smiled at this. "I can't say I am. What was the trouble?"
"It's generally believed Porteous was tampering with the mails, and thatbrings up another thing I want to mention. I'm puzzled about it as wellas pleased."
Harry, unobserved by Mr. Webster, grinned at Frank, looking solemn againas his father caught his eye.
"Well?" said the latter politely.
"It's just this," said Mr. Webster. "When I came through the settlementthis morning the man who fills Porteous's place gave me a letter. Itrequested me to send in a formal application if I was open to have myplace made a postoffice and carry the mails for this and the Carthewdistrict. They don't pay one very much, but it only means a journey oncea week."
"Then what are you puzzled at?"
"Well," said Mr. Webster, his eyes bent thoughtfully on the fire, "youand the Carthew folks tried to have a mail carrier appointed some timeago, and you heard that the authorities were considering yourrepresentations. I guess that's about all they did. They're great onconsidering, and as a rule they don't get much further. It strikes me ascurious that they should give you the postoffice now, considering thatthey wouldn't do it when you worried them for it. The next point is thatalthough I applied the other time I don't know anybody in office or anypolitical boss who would speak for me."
Frank noticed the smile broaden on Harry's face, but Mr. Webster wasintently watching Mr. Oliver, who answered carelessly.
"It's a poor job, one that only a local man could undertake, and I don'tknow any one else who wants it," he said. "What are you going to doabout it?"
"Send in the application right away. That's partly what brought me over.I'll have to get you and two of the boys at Carthew to vouch for me."
"There'll be no trouble about that," Mr. Oliver assured him, after whichthey changed the conversation. Before Mr. Webster went away he asked theboys to spend a day or two with him and do some hunting.
Mr. Oliver let them go at the end of the week, but he said that they hadbetter meet Mr. Webster at the settlement where Miss Oliver wanted themto leave an order for some groceries, and that if any letters hadarrived for him one of them must bring them across to the ranch. Theyreached the settlement Saturday evening, soon after the weekly mail hadcome in. When they had finished their supper at the store Mr. Websterbundled his mails promiscuously into a flour bag, which he fastened uponhis shoulders with a couple of straps.
"There seems to be quite a lot of letters," remarked Harry as he liftedup the bag.
Mr. Webster frowned. "Letters!" he growled. "Most of the blamed stuff'sgroceries. It strikes me I'm going to earn my dollars. The boys who runshort of sugar or yeast powder or any truck of that kind expect me topack it out. Give the thing a heave up. There's the corner of a meat canworking into my ribs."
They set out shortly afterward, following a very bad trail driven like atunnel through the bush, and when they had gone a mile or two Mr.Webster lighted a lantern which he gave to Frank.
"Hold it up and look about," he said. "It's somewhere round here Jardinehas his letter box nailed up on a tree."
Frank presently discovered an empty powder keg fixed to a big fir, andMr. Webster, wriggling out of the straps, dropped the bag with a thud.As it happened, it descended in a patch of mud.
"Hold the light so I can see to sort this truck," he said, and plungedhis hand into the bag. It was white when he brought it out.
"Something's got adrift," he commented. "They never can tie a packageright in the store."
With some difficulty he at last found the letters, though thisnecessitated his spreading out most of the rest and the groceries on thewet soil. Then he deposited those that belonged to Jardine in the kegand went on again.
Dense darkness filled the narrow rift in the bush and the feeble rays ofthe lantern were more bewildering than useful, but they covered anothertwo miles before they stopped at a second keg, when Webster discoveredthat a couple of letters he fished out were stuck together withhalf-melted sugar. He tore them apart and rubbed them clean upon histrousers, smearing out the address as he did so.
"It's lucky I looked at them first, because I couldn't tell whose theyare now," he said. "Anyway, as I guess the stuff hasn't had time to getinside, Steve will know they're his when he opens them." He raised thebag a little and examined it. "This thing's surely wet."
"I expect it is," said Harry. "The last time you stopped you dumped itin the mud. Didn't they give you some sugar for this place at thestore?"
"Why, yes," said Mr. Webster. "I was forgetting it. Hold the lanternlower, Frank, while I look for it."
He pulled the flour bag wider open and presently produced a big paperpackage which seemed to have lost its shape.
"Half the stuff's run out," he added. "That's what has been mussing upthe mail. Pitch this truck out and we'll skip the rest of the sugar outof the bottom of the bag."
It took them some time to deposit the various bundles of letters andpackets 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 Harrysmiled 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 itout 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 inthis task Harry held up a bundle of letters to the light and separatedtwo of them from the rest.
"These are dad's," he mused. "It strikes me they'd be safer in mypocket."
They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they stopped at a ranchwhere they delivered a newspaper and a pound of coffee, and then ploddedon in thick darkness which was only intensified by the patch ofuncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard or two in frontof them. Even this failed them presently when Frank fell and dropped thelantern. 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 canfix the thing when we reach my place, and there isn't another ranchuntil we come to it."
They trudged along in silence for another hour. The trail seemed darkerthan ever, and it was oppressively still. Even the great trunks a fewyards away were invisible, and once or twice Frank walked into thebushes that clustered among them. At
last, however, the sound of runningwater came out of the gloom and grew louder until the boy fancied thatthere must be a rapid creek somewhere below them. Neither he nor Harryhad been that way before. As they expected to get some shooting, he wascarrying the double gun, which was beginning to feel heavy, while Harryhad brought a rifle. When the roar of water had grown so loud that theycould scarcely hear each other's footsteps, Mr. Webster stopped.
"There's an awkward place close ahead, and you had better let me go infront," he warned. "Keep a few yards behind and close to the bank onyour left side. The trail goes down a gulch, and there's a steep drop tothe creek."
He moved on until the boys could just see his black and shadowy figure.The hollow beneath them was filled with impenetrable gloom, and theywent down cautiously, trying to follow him and feeling with their feetfor the edge of the bank on one hand. They had gone some little way whenMr. Webster seemed to stagger and suddenly disappear. Then there was acrash amidst the underbrush, a sound which might have been made by aheavy body rolling down a slope, and a hoarse cry which was almostdrowned by the clamor of the creek.
The boys stopped abruptly, uncertain what to do. Mr. Webster hadevidently fallen down the declivity, but they could not tell where hewas in the darkness, or if it was possible to reach him. Frank fanciedthat if he once moved out from the bank he would probably step over aledge and plunge down into the creek, which, it was evident, would be ofno service to Mr. Webster. By and by he was sincerely glad to hear asound below him which seemed to indicate that the man was endeavoring toclamber up again. On recalling the incident afterward, he decided thatthey had stood waiting about a quarter of a minute.
"We must get down somehow," he said to Harry.
His companion did not answer, but gripped his arm warningly. Then toFrank's astonishment another sound rose up somewhere in front of themand a voice followed it.
"Is that you, Webster?" it asked.
"Sure!" was the answer. "I've pitched right down the gulch."
Frank would have scrambled forward, but Harry held him back.
"Hold on!" he said softly. "He doesn't seem hurt."
A crackling and snapping below them suggested that somebody wascautiously scrambling through the undergrowth toward Mr. Webster, whilethe latter was evidently crawling up the ascent. Frank wondered whyHarry had restrained him until a blaze of light suddenly broke out. Itshowed a very steep bank with clumps of brush scattered about itdropping to a foaming creek, Mr. Webster holding on by the stem of astunted pine, with the flour bag lying some distance higher up, andanother figure moving toward him. A third man stood on the brink of thedeclivity holding a blazing pineknot. Where the boys stood, however,there was deep shadow.
Mr. Webster, so far as Frank could make out, was gazing at the mannearest him in astonishment.
"Well," he said sharply, "what do you want?"
"The mail," answered the other. "Stop right where you are!"
Then the meaning of the situation dawned on Frank. At that moment he sawMr. Webster scramble forward to intercept the man who was making for thebag. The latter, however, was nearer it, and he had crept almost up toit while Mr. Webster was still several yards away. Without a moment'shesitation, Frank sprang out into the flickering light.
"Keep back!" he shouted. "Don't touch that bag!"
The radiance fell upon the barrel of his gun, and the next moment Harryemerged from the gloom with his rifle thrust forward. They decidedafterward that the strangers could only have seen two indistinct figureswith weapons in their hands and that there was nothing to indicate thatthey were not grown men.
"Hold him up!" shouted Mr. Webster, scrambling forward furiously as ifto seize the man.
The latter stooped swiftly and made a grab at the bag as Frank pitchedup his gun, though he kept the muzzle of it turned a little from thebent figure, but just then Harry's rifle flashed behind him and therewas sudden darkness as the light fell into a thicket. Confused soundsfollowed the detonation, but it became evident to Frank, now quiveringwith excitement, that three separate persons were smashing throughscrubby undergrowth as fast as they could manage. Then one of themstopped while the rest went on.
"Have you got the bag?" cried Harry.
"It's in my hand," said Mr. Webster.
They heard him floundering toward them, while the other sounds grewfainter, until he emerged from the gloom close beside Frank and threwthe bag at his feet.
"Give me your gun," he said shortly. "Stop where you are!"
He disappeared again, but in another moment they saw him raking in aclump of brush from which a pale light still flickered, after which hecame back toward them with something blazing feebly in his hand.
"Bring the bag, and be careful how you walk," he said.
When they joined him he was stooping over a short strip of wirestretched across the trail about a foot above the ground, holding thepineknot so that the light fell upon it.
"I guess that's the reason I fell down," he said. "You didn't touch thatfellow, Harry."
"I didn't mean to," was the answer. "I wanted to scare him off, and Iwas mighty thankful when I saw I'd done it."
"Well," said Mr. Webster, "I expect that was wiser. It would have madethings worse for your father if you'd plugged him. Anyway, they'vecleared and we may as well get on."
"Aren't you hurt?" Frank inquired.
"There's a nasty rip on my leg and my arm feels mighty sore, but that'sall the damage. Seems to me I haven't much to complain of, consideringhow far I fell."
He flung the pineknot down into the ravine as he turned away, and theyhad crossed the creek and were ascending the other side before one ofthem spoke again.
"Did you recognize either of the men?" Harry inquired.
"No," said Mr. Webster. "On the whole I don't know that I'd want to doit, though I'm kind of sorry I didn't get my hands upon the nearestfellow. It was those two letters for your father he was after."
"Yes," said Harry gravely, "you're right in that."
The trail got narrower presently and when the boys fell a little behindHarry laid a hand on Frank's arm.
"I'm not sure that dad and Barclay would have had Webster made mailcarrier if they had expected this," he whispered. "There's no doubt thedope men are growing bolder."