Jack of the Pony Express | Page 2

indeed."
"Yes, I'm getting to be something of a cook myself," admitted the lad.
"But I can't quite equal your biscuits yet, and there's no use saying I can.
However, you baked a pretty good batch this afternoon, and dad sure
will be pleased when he sees 'em. I wish he'd come while they're hot
though," and once more Jack Bailey arose and went out to peer up the
trail. He listened intently, but his sharp senses caught no sound of
clattering hoofs, nor sight of a horseman coming down the slope, a
good view of which could be had from in front of the house that stood
on a bend in the road.
"Well, then, I'll be getting along," Mrs. Watson resumed, as she threw a
shawl over her shoulders, for, though the day had been warm, there was
a coolness in the mountain air with the coming of night. "Everything is
all ready to dish-up" went on the motherly-looking woman, as she went
out of the front gate, "The chicken is hot on the back of the stove."
"Oh, we'll make out all right, thank you," called Jack after her, as she
started down the trail. Mrs. Watson lived about a quarter of a mile away.
Her husband was a miner, and she had a grown daughter, so it was
quite convenient for Mrs. Watson to come over twice a week, or
oftener on occasions, and do the housework in the cottage where Mr.
Peter Bailey and his son Jack lived. Mrs. Watson would do the
sweeping, dusting and as much cooking as she had time for, and then
go back to her own home.
Jack's mother was dead, and he and his father had managed for some
years without the services of a housekeeper. Mr. Bailey was a pony
express rider, carrying the mail and small express packages between the
settlements of Rainbow Ridge and Golden Crossing. Mr. Bailey and
Jack lived on the outskirts of Rainbow Ridge.
This was in the Rocky Mountain country of one of our western states,
and the trails were so wild and winding, and, for that matter, so unsafe,
that it was out of the question to use a mail or stage coach between the

two places.
From Rainbow Ridge, however, there was a stage route going east,
which took the mail and express matter as it was brought in by Mr.
Bailey. And from Golden Crossing going west the same arrangement
was made. Golden Crossing was a settlement on the banks of the Ponto
River, a small enough stream in ordinary times, but which was wild and
dangerous during heavy rains or freshets.
So the pony express, as run by Mr. Bailey, was the only regular means
of communication between Golden Crossing and Rainbow Ridge. It
was of importance, too, for often valuable mail and packages went
through, the route being shorter and quicker than by a roundabout stage
line.
When Mrs. Watson was out of sight around a bend in the trail, Jack
went into the cottage. It really was a cottage, though when Mr. Bailey
first brought his family to the West it had been but a cabin, or shack.
But Mr. Bailey and his wife had labored hard to make it more of a
"home," and they had succeeded very well. Then came the sad occasion
of Mrs. Bailey's illness and death, and for a time life had seemed very
hard to Jack and his father.
The latter had been interested in mines, but found the work too difficult
with his failing health, so he had secured the pony express contract,
which he had carried on now for several years.
"It certainly is a shame to have this fine supper spoil," mused Jack, as
he lifted the cover from a pot of chicken, and glanced at the pile of
browned biscuit in the warming oven.
"I can't understand what makes dad so late," he went on. "Of course,
the mail from the Golden Crossing office might not have been ready for
him to take. It's been pretty heavy of late, and is almost more than Aunt
Matilda can handle. Though I suppose Jennie gives her a hand now and
then," and as he said that Jack looked at the photograph on the mantel
of an attractive girl, who seemed to smile at him. Jack looked
cautiously around the room, and then raised a hand to his lips and threw

a kiss from the tips of his fingers at the picture.
This done he blushed--but you would not have known it, he was so
bronzed by the sun and the wind. Mrs. Matilda Blake was a distant
relative of Mr. Bailey's, and Jack called her "Aunt Matilda," though she
really did not bear that relationship to him. She was a