Jack of the Pony Express Part 19

Jack realized that he would have a good excuse to offer for not getting back to Rainbow Ridge on time, as he had had to go out of his usual route to bring in the mail to Golden Crossing, which was still some miles away.

"They can't expect me to do two men's work in the time of one, and especially when my pony goes lame," Jack murmured, as he worked over the stone, which persisted in staying where it had become wedged.

"Well, old boy, I don't seem to be coming along very fast," Jack went on, as he sat down to rest, for the day was hot, and, in spite of being in the shade, he felt the heat very much.

"I don't want to loosen your shoe too much, or it will come off, and then I'd be in a worse pickle than ever," he continued, talking aloud, as he frequently did when on the trail. "And yet if I don't, I can't see how I'm going to get at that stone. Well, we'll have another try in a minute."

Sunger did not seem to mind the rest. He began quietly cropping gra.s.s by the wayside when Jack let down the hoof in which the stone was imbedded. As long as the pony rested no weight on that foot he was all right. It was when he walked or galloped with Jack and the sacks of mail on his back, bringing pressure to bear, that the lameness was noticeable.

Again the young express rider busied himself with the task. He shook his head over the work, for it seemed more and more impossible to get the stone out without taking off the shoe, and that would mean going back to the blacksmith's shop to have it nailed on again.

"Regular nuisance, having this happen," said Jack. "But of course I know it isn't your fault, Sunger."

The sound of hoof-beats on the trail caused Jack to look up as he was bending over the shoe. He saw riding toward him a stranger. The latter drew up his horse, nodded in friendly fas.h.i.+on, and remarked:

"You seem to be having some trouble there."

"Yes," Jack admitted. "Pony's gone lame. Got a stone under his shoe, and I don't seem to get it out."

"A bad thing in your business, I should judge," the man went on. "Pony express rider, aren't you?"

That could be told by a glance at the mail sacks.

"Yes," Jack answered, for the man seemed anxious to be friendly. "I ride between Golden Crossing and Rainbow Ridge."

"Sort of out of your way here, aren't you?"

"Yes. I had to ride out to get the mail. Stage broke down again. I'm going in to Golden Crossing now, and then on to the Ridge. That is, I am if I can get this stone out."

"Say, if you don't mind, let me have a chance at it," suggested the man, getting off his horse with an ease that showed he was accustomed to the saddle. "I used to know something about smithy work, and I've got a better hook than the one you're using."

"Well, if you don't mind, I wish you would have a try," said Jack, straightening up his bent and aching back. "It seems to have gotten the best of me."

The stranger patted Sunger, who sniffed at him and seemed satisfied. The pony rubbed his velvet nose against the man's coat. This was his way of making friends. Sunger did not do this with every one, either, and Jack felt more interest in the newcomer on that account.

"Now, let's see what we have here," the man went on, as he lifted the pony's lame foot. "Oh, my name's Ryan," he added, as an afterthought.

"And mine's Jack Bailey," said our hero, completing the introduction.

"Glad to meet you. I'm riding your way, and I'll go on with you after I get you fixed up, or, rather, your pony.

"Think you can do it?" Jack asked.

"Oh yes, I'll soon have this out. You almost had it yourself, but you were working at it the wrong way."

He proved that he knew what he was talking about a few minutes later, by exclaiming:

"There it is!"

He held up the stone that had caused all the trouble. It was of peculiar shape, which accounted for the manner in which it had become wedged fast.

"Thanks!" Jack exclaimed. "Now the question is about the shoe. Is it so loose that I can't go on?"

"It is a bit loose," the man said. "But I can fix that for you. I carry a spare shoe or two myself. They wouldn't fit your pony, for they are too large. But I've got a hammer and nails in my saddle bags. I ride about a good bit, and my nag often casts a shoe, so I go prepared. I'll have this one tightened up in a jiffy."

Jack watched Ryan interestedly. The man seemed very capable, and it is often the custom of cowboys or range riders to carry with them spare shoes, nails and a hammer, to reset a shoe of their mounts when far from a blacksmith shop.

In a few minutes the shoe was as tight as necessary, and Jack could again mount his pony and ride on.

"I'm a thousand times obliged to you," he said to Ryan. "It was quite a job, wasn't it?"

"Well, yes. Not so hard as some I've tackled, though. But it's a warm day, and I think after that we're ent.i.tled to a little refreshment. What do you say?"

For a moment Jack did not understand.

"Refreshment," he repeated. "There's no place around here where you can get anything to eat. No places short of going back to Tuckerton. And I'm not hungry enough for that."

"Hungry? Shucks, no! I'm not myself. I wasn't talking about anything to eat. I meant something to drink."

"Oh," said Jack, and a queer sort of feeling came over him. "Well, there's no ice cream soda place around here, either," and he smiled.

"Ice cream soda? Shucks! I'm talking about a man's drink! And I don't need any one to wait on me, either. I carry it with me. It's safer in case of emergency," and he laughed in what he evidently meant to be taken as a friendly fas.h.i.+on.

"Here, have a smile with me," he went on, producing a pocket flask. "It's stuff I can recommend," he added. "It'll do you good after working over that shoe. Come on, help yourself, and then I'll take what you leave, though there's plenty in that bottle, and more where that came from."

He held out a dark flask to Jack.

Jack backed away and shook his head.

"No, thank you," he said, firmly.

"What!" the man exclaimed in seeming surprise. "You don't drink?"

"No," Jack replied. "It wouldn't do in my business, you know. Besides, I wouldn't drink anyhow."

"Oh, shucks! Just one wouldn't hurt you, and there's no one to know. Your boss won't find it out, for I won't tell. After going through what you have you need a drink."

"Perhaps I do," said Jack with a smile, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, "but I don't want that kind of a drink. There's a spring just a few steps on, and it's the coldest and best water for miles around. I'm going to have some of that, and give the pony some, too. Your horse would appreciate it, I think."

"Humph! Water may be all right for horses, but I don't care for it," was the somewhat sneering answer. "Then you won't drink with me, Jack Bailey?"

"No, thank you. I'll join you in a tin dipper of spring water, but that's all."

"Well, if you won't you won't, I suppose," the man said, slowly. "Everybody to their notion. I don't take much, but I like a little now and then. So here goes."

Jack did not stay to see what the man did, but walked on to the spring with Sunger. The pony showed no trace of lameness, now, for which Jack was glad, as he had a hard ride ahead of him.

As the lad was getting himself a drink, and letting Sunger get some from a pool below the spring, Jack heard the sound of a galloping horse, and looked up in surprise.