“There’s no doubt of that; I sent word to Shagbark, our guide, who would do it without any such request from me.” “Shagbark, eh? So _he’s_ your guide; well, there isn’t a better one in the West than he; that’s what Kit Carson has said many a time and he knows. See here, my young friend, what’s the use of your staying in that saddle? Your pony doesn’t go any farther.” “But I should like to do so.” “Tom Harper is here to take the place of any chap that gets knocked out.” “Why not let me complete the run?” The three men looked in one another’s faces and smiled significantly. “Do you really want to try it?” “Nothing can suit me better.” “You have never been over the route.” “I have never been over the run just finished; I left everything to the pony and he did not go astray.” Alden did not think it worth while to tell of his adventure in the gorge while coming through the ridge. “You’re correct as to the ponies; all of them have been over the road long enough to become familiar with it. What do you say, Tom?” asked Jenkins, turning to the relief rider. “Well, I ain’t partic’lar,” replied the wiry fellow, who despite his youthful looks, was a veteran of the plains; “I expected to ride, if anything happened to Dick, but this young chap seems to have set his heart on it and I don’t want to spoil his fun.” Alden’s eyes sparkled. Having begun the run, almost from the beginning, he was ambitious to complete it. “Then it’s settled,” said he, dropping from the saddle, and stepping across to the waiting animal. “Hold on a minute,” interposed Jenkins; “being as you ain’t a reg’lar you needn’t be as strict as they have to be.” “What do you mean?” asked the puzzled Alden fearing that he was to be subjected to some vexatious handicap. “It’s a good fifteen miles to the next station and most of the way is so rough that your horse will have to walk; there are a few stretches where you can let him out, but, for all that, you won’t reach the station till well into the night.” “What of that?” “You need rest.” “I’m not tired,” persisted Alden, afraid that the men would change their minds. “That may be, for you haven’t had much of a ride yet, but it is nearly dark; you must eat supper with us.” “You are kind, but have we time? The mail is already late.” Jenkins threw back his head and laughed. His mirth was so unrestrained that his comrades and even Alden smiled in sympathy. “If you want a job I’ll recommend you to Colonel Majors. I saw from the way you rode when you came in sight that you understand the business.” “How much are we behind the schedule?” Jenkins drew out a big silver watch whose ticking could be heard by all. He squinted one eye and studied the figures. “A little more than an hour: it’s no hanging matter if you make it two or three hours more.” The action of the man reminded Alden that he had the watch and papers of Dick Lightfoot in his possession. He took them out and explaining the matter, handed them to Jenkins.