Ten minutes later as he swept round another turn in the gorge, he saw Shagbark riding a little way in front of the train. Inasmuch as the emigrants and Jethro were approaching each other, the distance had been considerably shortened thereby. Shagbark the veteran never showed more amazement and fear, than when he caught sight of the riderless Firebug galloping toward him with the negro close behind. He stopped his horse, threw up his head and stared. Before Jethro could check his pony, the hunter demanded: “What’s the matter? What does it all mean; whar’s the younker?” “Dead!” was the fearful reply. “How did it happen?” Abner Fleming and several others caught sight of the African and rode hurriedly forward. Jethro had halted his panting animal and replied: “Ain’t sartin he’s dead, but dere ain’t much doubt ob it.” “What bus’ness have ye to be here if anything went wrong with the younker?” thundered the hunter, with a dangerous glitter in his eyes; “why did ye leave him?” “He made me come back wid Firebug, Mr. Shagbark,” explained the servant. Finally, after a score of questions, Jethro made plain what had happened. Every one listened with breathless attention. When it was understood, Shagbark chuckled: “So the younker took the place of the Express Rider, eh? Wal, he’ll git through all right, but I say that’s jest like him; there’s good stuff in _that_ chap.” CHAPTER XIV AN ALARMING SITUATION Meanwhile Alden Payne had entered upon the most stirring experience of his life. In a twinkling, as may be said, he was transformed from an emigrant plodding his way across the continent to a Pony Express Rider, whose sole effort was to skim over the dangerous ground at the topmost speed to which his swift pony could be forced. “Get ahead in spite of everything,” was the motto of those daring fellows. It was a sudden impulse that led the youth to make this perilous venture, but it is almost certain that, had he been given hours in which to consider the plan, he would have done precisely what he did do. It is in the momentous crises of a person’s career that he often becomes sensible to trifles which would pass unnoticed at other times. The moment Alden set off with the small rifle of the stricken rider grasped in his left hand and the reins held loosely in his right, he noticed several things. He knew he was twenty or thirty pounds heavier than Dick Lightfoot. The saddle, although of the same kind as his own, still felt a little different. The stirrup straps were an inch or two shorter than those to which he was accustomed, but he decided to waste no time in shifting the buckles. The rifle was lighter than his weapon, for we know those men sacrificed everything possible to gain lightness. If an anxious correspondent offered a big price to the carrier to accept a thin missive after the pouch had been made up, he was refused and obliged to wait for the next messenger.