On he came with his half-breed pony running as if a hundred lives were at stake. He made swift, tremendous leaps, his thin neck outstretched, his flowing tail streaming straight behind, with his nose extended, as he strained every muscle to reach his destination without the loss of a minute. His rider was a small man, weighing not more than a hundred and twenty pounds, and his riding revealed a master of the art. He leaned slightly forward in the saddle, the front of his hat standing straight up as if plastered against his forehead, the ends of the handkerchief looped about his neck fluttering in the gale caused by his own swiftness, while he occasionally pricked the ribs of his horse with his spurs, though such urgency was hardly needed. As he flashed opposite, the rhythmic thump of the pony’s hoofs on the sod was heard by the emigrants, all of whom were gazing at man and animal. The former’s garments fitted so snugly that only the fringes over and back of the shoulders, and those on the thighs quivered. The trousers were thrust into the tops of his boots, whose heels were high and pointed, and after the fashion among cowmen and plainsmen. The watchers identified his character at once, and needed not the sight of the broad flat flaps fastened across the saddle, one in front and the other behind him. He glanced toward the train, and observing all eyes upon him, raised a hand in salutation, but did not speak or make any further acknowledgment of the cheers. In a twinkling the emigrants were gazing upon his back, the ends of the fluttering handkerchief, fringes of clothing, streaming tail and flying hoofs of the pony, which flung chunks of earth into the air as he skimmed away on the wings of the wind. “A Pony Express Rider!” said Alden; “how he goes!” “How long hab he been doing it?” asked Jethro. “From the station five miles back, and he’ll keep it up till he reaches the next station farther on.” “What den?” “He’ll shift his saddle and mail bags to a pony that is waiting, and then gallop at the same headlong speed for ten or twelve miles more, and change again unless that is the end of his run. This isn’t the first time, Jeth, we have seen those men riding like mad, and we are likely to see many more before we get sight of the Pacific.” “I didn’t obsarve dat he carried a rifle.” “He had none, but a few of the riders carry them; this one doesn’t think he is likely to need any, and so he lightens the load of his horse that much. Shagbark managed to say a few words to me last night, and one thing he told me was that the Pony Express riders sometimes miss it in not taking a rifle with them. They are so anxious to make schedule time that they run into danger. It often happens that when they most need a gun they haven’t it. I hope that fellow won’t be caught in such a fix.” “Gorrynation! don’t he trabbel? Why can’t we do de same ting, Al?”