"I have heard it threatened that this shall be your last trip," said the post office clerk, as he handed the mail pouch to the postboy. "What do these stories mean that we hear about Mr. Rimmon?" "I don't know. Of course, I do not believe them. He was called away very suddenly, and it was something in regard to the post office. I believe there is a government detective somewhere around, looking into the trouble. All the things make the people talk. I wanted to tell you last night that another complaint has been sent in by Claverton and the others." CHAPTER XXXV. THE TRUTH AT LAST. Little Snap, without stopping to reply, sprang into the saddle and dashed away, meeting no one until he reached Daring's Diamond. "I owe you an apology, Dix," was the postmaster's greeting, as he came down the steps to meet him. "Since you were here last evening I have heard of your thrilling experience with that runaway river, and I hope you will forgive me for speaking as I did. You deserve special reward for your bravery, and you are going to get it, too." To the postboy's surprise, a dozen others pressed around him, with kind words of praise. "What is that we hear about Mr. Rimmon?" asked Mr. Anderson. "Of course, I don't believe the stories, and Jason Warfield's friends are making a mistake in circulating them. By the way, boys, I suppose you all know there is to be a big rally here to-night for the ambitious colonel. He is to address the people on the issues of the day, as he calls them." "Have you found anything of those missing letters?" asked Little Snap. "Not a sign. That beats me. It is the first time we have lost anything here. But the culprit is sure to be found out soon." Then, stepping nearer to the postboy, he whispered: "There's a government detective somewhere in these parts. But mum's the word." His spirits still in the ascendant, Little Snap pursued his way, to be met at the Hollow Tree with an altogether different reception. "'Pears to me yer stock of imperdence is equal to yer rascality," said Shag, who was sitting in the doorway, smoking a black clay pipe. "Here is the mail pouch, Mr. Shag. You were not here last evening, so I could not leave yesterday's up mail." "The rules and regulations don't say I shall keep the offis open all night to 'commodate a postman who comes erlong when he's a mind to." "You knew well enough I would come as soon as circumstances would permit." "I know a mighty sight better thet ye won't hev a chance to repeat yer slipshod way o' doin' bizness arter to-day. Put thet in yer pipe an' smoke it." Having delivered this speech, Mr. Shag entered his humble office to sort the mail, followed by Little Snap, who had firmly decided to watch every postmaster on the route as he handled the mail. When Shag had clumsily gone through with his examination, he handed the pouch back to the postboy without comment.