After a moment’s silence, Alden asked: “Did he leave any message for me?” The agent glanced to the rider to answer. “He told me to let you know his name and to say that, as you had given up your job, he took pity on you and would finish it for you. He would try to fix things so you wouldn’t have to wait long for the meeting which he’s a good deal more anxious than you to bring about.” Poor Alden Payne! He was “boiling.” Nothing could have occurred to roil him more deeply. After completing two-thirds of the trip with the mail pouches and going through terrifying perils, his enemy, as he persisted in regarding him, had quietly stepped in and stolen the honor from him. Not only that, but he had left an insulting message, as if his act itself were not sufficient. Our young friend could see no “ray of light.” Had he possessed his own pony he would have started in hot pursuit of Brandley, but Firebug was with the train and until he came up, no animal was at command. It was useless to ask the agent to loan him one of his horses, for there was not the slightest reason for doing so and every reason why he should not. The chagrined Alden tried to formulate some plan by which he could even up matters with the fellow who had treated him so ill. He thought of going on afoot, but that would have been folly. The only method seemed to accompany the emigrant train until it met Brandley returning, or overtook him at the next station; but, to do that, placed him in a delicate and repugnant position. He would travel as the guest in one sense of Brandley’s relative, who was the head of the company. That fact must act as a restraint upon the nephew, and to a certain extent upon Alden himself. The foes must meet upon neutral ground, where the duty of hospitality did not bear upon either. Seeing the train about to start, Alden, restless, impatient and trying hard to hide his anger, walked over to camp and went straight to Mr. Chadwick. “I should like to ask,” he said; “how you came to allow Ross to take my place.” The man was nettled by the unconscious brusqueness of Alden’s manner. “Explain yourself,” he said, moving aside where the others who looked inquiringly at them, could not overhear what was said. “I brought the mail pouches from the last station and expected to take them on to the next as I had a right to do.” “Well, what of it?” “And your nephew sneaked over and took them away from me.” “Did the agent give him permission?” “Certainly, though he now regrets it.” “Then your question should be addressed to him and not to me.” “You shouldn’t have permitted your nephew to do such a thing.” “Since when have you assumed to advise me, young man? In the first place, Ross didn’t ask my permission, nor did I know he had gone until this morning.” “And you would not have allowed him to do what he did had you known it?” “I haven’t said that nor do I say it now; what I do say is that I am much pleased to bid you good morning.”