"That is what you say every time. You are an hour overdue. Mr. Meiggs, who has just gone out, has been talking pretty loud about you. If I were in your place, I would not let this happen again. People who are having mail want it on time. It may not make any difference to the Blazed Acre cattle, but it does to civilized people, I have noticed." It wasn't so much what the postmaster said as the way in which he said it that nettled Little Snap, though he made no reply. This Mr. Meiggs referred to was one of the postboy's bondsmen. "I suppose you know Dan Shag has gone up to see Jason Warfield about the Hollow Tree mail?" said the postmaster, as he handed over the sack. "Of course you know; what a fool I am! He must have passed you 'tween here and the Tree." To this Little Snap made no reply. He knew Anderson was saying these things to draw him out. The postmaster, for some unknown reason, had never acted friendly toward him. He never could understand why. It was never Little Snap's practice to hold much conversation with those he met on his route, and on this occasion he felt less like talking than common. He was due at Union Six Roads, the end of his route, at eight o'clock, and it was already past that hour, it having been sunset at the time of his escape from his enemies at the cave. [Illustration: "The reports of the outlaws' firearms rang out sharply on the silence of the wild woods as Little Snap bounded toward Jack." ] Thus he took the mail pouch from Mr. Anderson's hands, and throwing it on its accustomed hook, sprang into his seat before that worthy could realize he was leaving. "Hold up a minnit!" he exclaimed, as the postboy dashed away, but not loud enough for him to hear. "Go it!" muttered the other, "I shan't forget it in my report. I reckon you'll wish you hadn't been in so much of a hurry when you come to meet old Warfield." Little thinking of what was in store for him at his home town, the postboy urged Jack on at greater speed than common, until at last he dashed up in front of the Six Roads post office, kept by John Rimmon, who also had a small trade in groceries. The postmaster met him at the door, with a troubled look upon his features. "What in the world have you been doing all this time, Dix Lewis? Hold on! don't dismount. Jason Warfield left word here for me to tell you to come right up to his house the minute you got in. He wants to see you on matters of vital importance. Them's just his words." "Well, I will run up and see just as soon as I have put Jack in the stable." "But he said you mustn't stop for that. He said for you to be sure and come the minute you got here. By his looks and actions, it must be something of very great importance."