He jerked from underneath him a set of saddle-bags, and ere he had stopped he flung them ahead; the station agent sprang to grab them, and before the rider had landed upon the ground had slung them across Irish Tom’s saddle and shouted: “Clear the way!” Into his saddle leaped Irish Tom, tightened lines, thrust spurs against hide, and at a single great bound was away, bending low and racing like mad at full gallop on up the trail for Red Buttes, almost 100 miles westward again. In an astonishingly brief space of time he was around the turn and out of sight; but the rapid thud of his hoofs still echoed back. XXI “PONY EXPRESS BILL” The name of the rider who had just arrived was Charley Cliff. As he stiffly swung from the saddle, a dozen hands were thrust at him to clap him on the shoulder and to shake his hand in congratulation. “What did you make it in?” “What time is it?” he panted. “You arrived at five ten.” “Is that so? Then I made the last twenty miles in sixty-two minutes.” The horse looked like it. It staggered, weak-kneed, as the hostler carefully led it to the stable. Charley also slightly staggered from stiffness as he walked away with the agent through a lane of admirers, for breakfast and sleep. Before the east-bound mail arrived on its swift journey from California to the Missouri River, Davy and everybody else at Laramie knew just how the system was being worked. Charley had been well questioned. Only the best horses were used――horses that could beat Indian horses or anything else on the road. The Pony Express riders were supposed not to fight but to run away. Their Spencer carbine and two revolvers and knife were carried for use only in case that they couldn’t run away. They all had to sign the regular Russell, Majors & Waddell pledge, and each one was given a calf-bound Bible, just as with the bull trains. Small horses were preferred, and a very light skeleton saddle was used. A set of saddle-bags called a mochila (mo-cheela) was hung across the saddle; each corner was a pocket for the mail. The pocket flaps were locked by little brass keys, and could be unlocked only by the station agents. The mochila was passed from rider to rider, and the mail was taken out or put in along the route. Of course, the most of the mail was through mail, from the East to the Coast, and from the Coast to the East. The rate was five dollars a half ounce, and most of the letters were written on tissue paper; the New York and St. Louis papers also were to be printed on tissue paper for mailing by the Pony Express. The limit was twenty pounds. Charley thought that he had brought about three pounds. The letters were wrapped in oiled silk, so that they would not soak with water, and were in Government Pony Express envelopes, which cost ten cents apiece. Later Dave saw some of these letters, directed to Laramie. Several addressed to the post sutler, for instance, from merchant houses, had as much as twenty dollars in