Alden would have liked to ask the man more questions, had time permitted. He would have turned over the possessions taken from the fallen man, had he thought of it. He wished to ask him about that signal smoke which still stained the sky in front and the rider could have given him valuable suggestions. It was too late now. The opportunity was gone and the youth must think for himself. Six or eight miles remained to be traversed through a dangerous country and he was on foot. The pony had fled and he doubted whether he could be recovered. “He has the mail with him and may take it into his head to go to the station without me,” was the thought of Alden, as he turned back over the trail. The hoof prints left by the animal showed clearly in the ground and it was easy to follow them. A little way and he came to where the open space broadened. His vision widened and the first survey showed him Dick quietly cropping the grass, as if nothing unusual had happened to him. His side was toward Alden, who whistled. The pony lifted his head, with the blades of grass dripping from his jaws, and looked questioningly at the youth, who whistled again and walked in his direction. It would be interesting could we know what whims passed through the brain of the animal which was one of the most intelligent of his species. The Express Riders used so many horses and were forced by circumstances to shift so often from one to the other, that not often was any special affection formed between the human and brute. In other instances, the fondness was deep and the two stuck to each other whenever and wherever it was possible to do so. Dick in his own way must have mourned the loss of his master when he tumbled from the saddle, but he accepted the substitute in the minute that he appeared, and yielded the same obedience to one as to the other. Brief as had been the pony’s service, he like his companions, had imbibed the fact that his one duty in life was to carry the mail pouches with the highest speed at his command, and that such service was to be performed under the guidance of the man who sat on his back. When Dick, therefore, heard the whistle and recognized the youth, he paused only long enough to make sure there was no mistake, and then with a neigh of pleasure, he trotted toward him. As the two met, Alden patted the animal’s nose and spoke affectionately: “Good Dick! you’re worth your weight in gold; I should be in a bad fix without you.” He sprang into the saddle. He had hardly settled in his seat when the pony broke into a trot, which quickly rose to a gallop, though it was not a dead run. That would come very soon. The observant Alden noted one fact: the horse did not take the course which he was following when alarmed by the approach of the black bear. He veered well to the left, thus leaving the carcass out of sight in the other direction. His kind dread a dead bear almost as much as a live one.