The road now more broken than it had been since leaving Greenbrier, Little Snap rode on over hill and through valley, finding the horse loaned him by Mr. Renders an exceptionally fine animal. He had consulted his watch to find it was a quarter of two, when he looked ahead to see what he believed to be the village of Volney. "Almost there," he muttered. "How glad I am. Now if I find Mr. Calvert at home I shall be soon on my return journey. That is the house Mr. Renders described, I am sure. How still it looks around it!" Speaking his thoughts thus aloud, Little Snap dashed into the spacious grounds surrounding the quaint, old-fashioned dwelling he supposed was the home of the man he had ridden so far to see. The occupant of the house proved to be more wakeful than he had expected, for he had barely pulled rein under the enormous willow growing by the door before a chamber window was opened, and a man's voice demanded. "Who's there?" "My name is Lewis, and I am from Union Six Roads. Does Mr. Calvert live here?" "That's my name, sir, though I do not recognize yours." "I carry the mail on the Kanawha route. Of course, you remember Dix Lewis, to whom you sub-let the line?" "Wait a minute and I'll be down there." Giving the finishing touches to his toilet, as he appeared, Mr. Calvert soon opened the heavy door and stepped out into the night. He was a man in the vicinity of forty, with a frank, good-natured looking countenance, who seemed rather brusque in his movements and manner of speaking. "I hardly remember your countenance, Mr. Lewis," he said, as he stepped forward and extended his right hand; "but that is nothing strange, as we never met but that once. What in the name of Congress has brought you here at this unexpected hour? But excuse me, dismount, put your horse in the barn, and come into the house before you begin your talk. I would call one of the negroes, but they are so sleepy at this time of night they are no good." "I can't stop," said Little Snap, as soon as he could find an opportunity to speak. "I have to get back to Six Roads in season to take the mail to the Loop to-day." "You won't do it, all the same. But what's up?" The postboy then made the other acquainted with all that had happened, interrupted several times by Mr. Calvert, who finally exclaimed: "A bad pickle, I should say. But I am glad you have come to me. Of course the only thing for you to do is to get out of it." "I cannot do that with honor to myself," said Little Snap, who had not expected this from the contractor. "It would look as if I was really to blame for all they have said." "Better let it look like that than to get your neck in the halter, or a bullet through your head." The postboy could not help showing his surprise. Was it for this he had ridden so far, and with such high-colored hopes? He had not dreamed of anything other than assistance from the man who was behind him in his undertaking.