CHAPTER X.

LITTLE SNAP'S REMARKABLE RIDE.

The thrill of terror which ran through the postboy's form at sight of the reeling cliff swiftly descending upon him was quickly followed by the ready decision of action so natural to him.

Given but an instant in which to think and act, a less level-headed person must have been caught under the massive block of granite. Not one in a hundred would have had the nerve to do what Dix Lewis dared in that awful moment.

A glance showed him that there was only one way of escape from the falling slice of ledge, and even that led to what seemed as certain death in another form.

But there was one chance in a thousand, and that hope was enough to nerve him to action.

The sheer descent to the Kanawha was over a hundred feet at this spot, but in a wild leap down this fearful chasm lay his sole hope.

With a sharp cry of encouragement to Jack, he spurred the faithful steed forward—forward to the brink of the frightful depths, where for a moment horse and rider seemed suspended in midair.

Another shout to the trembling horse, a wild glance backward, and the Postboy of the Kanawha made the flying leap to what seemed instant death!

As he was carried downward as if on wings of air, a sharp cry rang on his ears, while his last look at the cliff had shown him the well-known figure of Buzzard Burrnock outlined with vivid distinctness on the uppermost point of the bluff.

Then his breath almost left him, and a suffocating sensation came over him, quickly ended by a loud splash of water, and the furious struggling of the gallant Jack, as he reached the surface of the rolling Kanawha.

Little Snap seemed to lose his senses for a time, and the battle which ensued on the part of his noble horse was not fully realized by him.

Fortunately, the river at this point was clear of the huge bowlders that strewed its course only a short distance above, and the deep water flowed sullenly on its way.

When our hero began to comprehend somewhat where he was, he found that Jack was swimming with the current in the middle of the stream.

Then it slowly dawned upon him that he had escaped from that wild leap with his life.

He found to his joy that the mail pouch was still hanging from its usual position.

"Saved, Jack!" he murmured. "What a fearful chance, but you brought me safely through. Keep up courage, my noble fellow, and we will soon be safe on dry land again."

This desperate ride of Little Snap's finds an equal in the mad leap of McCulloch, the brave pioneer of earlier days in Virginia, who, hunted by a party of Indians, in the vicinity of Wheeling Hill, was driven upon the bluff overhanging the creek, and, preferring death in the waters of the stream, rode off the precipice, the banks of which were higher than those of the Kanawha, where Little Snap took his fearful choice. Both the brave McCulloch and his horse escaped, as is verified by the pages of history. I know of no other instance of this kind on record, though there may be many.

Little Snap had passed beyond the point of rocks, so he had lost sight of the Narrows, though the awful sound of the breaking rock still rang in his ears.

Seeing there was no possible place for Jack to gain a foothold on either side of the river, he allowed the horse to swim on at the steed's own will.

He had lifted the mail pouch above the water, and feeling that its contents were not injured, he calmly waited the end of his adventure.

Jack must have swum nearly a mile down the stream before his rider saw a place where a landing could be effected, when he guided the course of the steed in that direction.

After a severe struggle, during which Little Snap several times felt that the attempt must be given up, the brave bay succeeded in gaining a foothold upon _terra firma_.

The postboy then sprang to the ground, while Jack shook the water from his dripping sides.

When he had found that the mail matter had not suffered from the water, he remounted and rode on toward Salt Works, finding his way slowly along the rugged mountain side, until at last he was gladdened by the sight of the road.

Jack soon increasing his gait to a smart canter, the distance to Salt Works was speedily passed, at which place Little Snap told his story to a wondering circle of listeners, whom it was plain to see failed to think that his story could be the truth in full.

"The road will have to be cleared before I can get back," said our hero. "It must be completely blocked by the rock."

"It doesn't come in our district," said the postmaster, "but I will endeavor to get word up to Greenbrier about it. They would never find it out if I didn't."

Leaving Jack here, Little Snap continued his journey with his relief horse, making his trip to Upper Loop and return without adventure.

To his disappointment here, however, he learned that the rocky _débris_ had not been cleared away at the Narrows.

"It will not be your fault if you do not go through," said the postmaster. "I advise you to remain with us until the road has been opened."

But Little Snap did not like to do this if it was possible for him to get to Six Roads. Besides feeling it his duty to carry the mail through, he was anxious to get home on his mother's account.

"I will ride up to the Narrows, and if I find it impossible to go farther I will come back," he replied, starting at once upon his way.

After leaving the noisy settlement of Salt Works, he did not expect to see a person until he should reach Greenbrier, should he be so fortunate as to pass the Narrows, with the exception of Uncle Solitaire. Thus, as he came in sight of the live oak, as he had always done, he looked for the old hermit, wishing that the one from whom he hoped to receive tidings might send the long looked for letter.

As he drew near to the place, the chirping of the squirrels reached his ears, and he saw them running across the road and up and down the tree. As he continued to approach, one of the frisky creatures ran down to meet him, darting to and fro in the road as he advanced.

Something seemed to trouble the little troupe of noisy, uneasy denizens of the forest, which was accounted for when the postboy came to look for the old man in vain.

Uncle Solitaire was not at his post!

Little Snap paused, thinking he might be coming near at hand, and when he failed to appear he shouted his name. Only the chirping of the squirrels answered him.

One of these, as if anxious to tell him why its master was not on hand, actually ran up to the postboy's shoulder, remaining there as he rode on, wondering what had caused the strange man's non-appearance.

When he had gone a few rods the squirrel jumped to the ground, and with a louder chirp, ran back to rejoin its mates.

"It is the first time in six months, rain or shine, he has failed to be here. I wonder if he is sick?"

He was still thinking of the old hermit, when he was startled by the sudden appearance of a gaunt, stooping figure beside his horse as he began the ascent to the Narrows.

"Don't be skeert, younker," said a harsh, grating voice from the stranger. "We kem es friends. I'm Ab Raggles, an' this hyur is my fust boy, Beeline Raggles."

As he finished speaking a second figure, very similar to the first, save for the changes made by the difference in years, suddenly stepped from the growth by the wayside and unconcernedly stalked on the other side of the postboy.

Little Snap, not knowing what to make of such company, stopped Jack, and facing the older of the singular twain, demanded:

"What do you want?"

"To pay off an ol' debt by befriendin' ye. We wuz off our toes 'bout 'em Burrnocks yesterday, an' we didn't ketch onto their plans in season to help yer this mornin', but mebbe we can do yer a good turn now. The rock ain't out o' th' path up yender."

Notwithstanding the uncouth appearance of the speaker, and his illiterate speech, there was an evidence of honesty in both that did not escape the keen perception of Little Snap.

"In what way can you help me?" he asked.

"Wull, it's jess like this: I s'pose ye air purty anxious to get on to Six Roads?"

"What if I am? I cannot do so if the road is blocked."

"That's jess whar ye air barkin' up th' wrong tree, es I 'lowed ye would. I know a path right over through th' growth wot'll bring ye round to Hollow Tree slick es a coon whistlin' on a stump."

"I shall miss Greenbrier?"

"Sart'inly; sorter go round yit. Then, too, ye'll hev to go through Blazed Acre. Mebbe ye won't care to do thet. Th' Burrnocks think they scooped ye clean this morn'. It'd open their eyes fit to bustin'. Wot d'ye say—go?"