With some difficulty he at last found the letters, though this necessitated his spreading out most of the rest and the groceries on the wet soil. Then he deposited those that belonged to Jardine in the keg and went on again. Dense darkness filled the narrow rift in the bush and the feeble rays of the lantern were more bewildering than useful, but they covered another two miles before they stopped at a second keg, when Webster discovered that a couple of letters he fished out were stuck together with half-melted sugar. He tore them apart and rubbed them clean upon his trousers, smearing out the address as he did so. "It's lucky I looked at them first, because I couldn't tell whose they are now," he said. "Anyway, as I guess the stuff hasn't had time to get inside, Steve will know they're his when he opens them." He raised the bag a little and examined it. "This thing's surely wet." "I expect it is," said Harry. "The last time you stopped you dumped it in the mud. Didn't they give you some sugar for this place at the store?" "Why, yes," said Mr. Webster. "I was forgetting it. Hold the lantern lower, Frank, while I look for it." He pulled the flour bag wider open and presently produced a big paper package which seemed to have lost its shape. "Half the stuff's run out," he added. "That's what has been mussing up the mail. Pitch this truck out and we'll skip the rest of the sugar out of the bottom of the bag." It took them some time to deposit the various bundles of letters and packets among the wineberry bushes beside the trail, after which Mr. Webster shook a pound or two of loose wet sugar into the opened package. It appeared to be mixed with flour and other substances, and Harry smiled as he glanced at it. "It's off its color," he remarked. "That," said Mr. Webster, "will serve Steve right and save me trouble. The next time he wants sugar he'll walk into the settlement and pack it out himself. When you've put that truck back the mail will go ahead." They threw the things back into the bag, but while they were engaged in this task Harry held up a bundle of letters to the light and separated two of them from the rest. "These are dad's," he mused. "It strikes me they'd be safer in my pocket." They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they stopped at a ranch where they delivered a newspaper and a pound of coffee, and then plodded on in thick darkness which was only intensified by the patch of uncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard or two in front of them. Even this failed them presently when Frank fell and dropped the lantern. It went out, and neither he nor Harry, who struck a match, could open it. "I'm afraid I've bent the catch," said Frank. "It's not going to matter much," Mr. Webster answered. "I guess we can fix the thing when we reach my place, and there isn't another ranch until we come to it."