CHAPTER II.

THE MISSING MAIL.

No sooner had Little Snap's shrill note rang on the air than the sound of the hoof strokes suddenly ceased, and a glad whinny answered him.

"Noble Jack!" exclaimed the postboy; "I wouldn't give you for all the horses I ever knew, and I love them all. You are the best friend I have."

"Quickening his pace, he descended into the huge basin denominated the Wash Bowl, meeting Jack, who was retracing his course at the bottom.

"Good Jack!" said the young master, gently, while he patted the head of the faithful steed affectionately. "But we must tarry here no longer. On, my boy, to Greenbrier."

Then Little Snap bounded lightly into the saddle, and, with a hasty glance backward, urged Jack away from the lonely place, half expecting to be attacked by some foe springing from behind the frowning rocks at every moment.

But, to his relief, the ascent was made without molestation, and from the summit he looked down upon the little town of Greenbrier in the valley of the river of that name with a feeling of comparative safety.

The post office at this lively hamlet was managed by a woman by the odd name of Budd Grass, who had received her appointment about the time Little Snap had begun to carry the mail.

The postboy dashed along the crooked street, lined with its rude habitations, until he came in sight of the post office, where he saw the postmistress standing in the doorway, an anxious look upon her handsome features.

She was a woman of about thirty, and had won Little Snap's friendship at the first.

"You are late," she said, by way of greeting. "I began to get anxious about you, for I have heard reports of trouble among the bushbinders, and I was fearful they might molest you. You have had trouble of some kind."

Two or three loafers were in the office, and just outside of the door Little Snap saw a younger brother of the twain he had met so unceremoniously on Eagle's Tracks, so he did not say what he wished.

Instead he said:

"Did you ever know me to run into any trouble I could not get out of, Budd?"

"Not a bit, Dix Lewis," replied the postmistress, taking the pouch and retiring to the little room dignified by the name of "private office."

While she was sorting the mail, Little Snap returned to the side of Jack, and caressing the animal's arched neck, began to talk to it in a way he often did.

In the midst of his affectionate treatment of his loved horse, the postboy felt a hand laid on his shoulder, and, turning, he saw Pewee Burrnock standing by his side.

"Meet Hawk and Buzz up yonder?" asked the bushbinder, tersely, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he spoke, in the direction of the mountain crossing.

At first thought the postboy was at a loss how to reply, but he quickly decided that it was best to tell the truth if he said anything, so he replied:

"Yes."

"Any trouble?"

"None but what we could settle among ourselves."

"Good. An' here I want to tell yer it'll be best fer ye to be on the square with th' boys. Understand!"

"I think I do. At any rate, I shall try and do my duty, Mr. Burrnock."

A puzzled look came over the swarthy countenance of the bushbinder, as he was not fully satisfied with the postboy's reply, but before he could speak again, Budd Grass appeared upon the scene with the mail bag. As she handed it to Little Snap, she whispered:

"Look sharp! you are threatened with trouble."

Dix Lewis would fain have asked her what she meant, but he could not do so without arousing the attention of Pewee Burrnock, which he did not think advisable to do.

Accordingly, he bade her "good-day," and rode away from the office at a smart canter.

Before leaving Greenbrier, however, he called upon one of the leading citizens, whom he believed he could trust, to give him an account of the attack of the Burrnock brothers, the other listening to his story with amazement.

"By Jones, Dix! I don't like the looks of that. But I don't want to scare you off the route. You may not hear anything more from them. I will see that Rimmon goes up that way to find out if they have taken care of themselves. If there is any further trouble of this kind, let me know."

Thanking Mr. Drayton for his kind words, Little Snap resumed his journey, meeting with no adventure until he reached the next office on his route.

This was no doubt one of the most singular post offices in the country. It was called the Hollow Tree, and there was not a house within sight of the lonely spot.

As Little Snap reined up at the place, a man with a slouching figure, and a sort of hangdog look upon his sunburned features, stepped from a hollow pine to reach for the pouch.

He was Dan Shag, a notorious character in that vicinity, of whom nothing very bad was known, though he was a person of few friends.

This office afforded the mail facility for the inhabitants of "Blazed Acre," an isolated settlement of lawless people, among whom dwelt the bushbinders. The place was three miles and a half back from the post road, and reached only by a bridle path.

"It's purty light to-day," said the postmaster, as he took the mail pouch from the postboy and carried it into the Hollow Tree, that had been fitted up in a rude sort of way with recesses for the few letters and papers making up the intercourse the people of the Blazed Acre had with the outside world.

While Dix waited for Dan Shag to sort the mail, a quartet of ill-looking men, whom he recognized as representatives of the isolated settlement, emerged from the growth surrounding the Hollow Tree and shambled up to the spot.

"Meet th' boys up yonder?" asked the foremost of the newcomers, jerking his thumb over his shoulder after the manner of Pewee Burrnock.

He was Robin, another of the brothers of that name, more repulsive-looking than any of the others, if that were possible.

Little Snap nodded.

"Any trouble?"

Before the postboy could reply, Dan Shag reappeared upon the scene with a startled look upon his face.

"What does this mean, boy?" he demanded, fiercely.

"I don't understand you," replied Little Snap, in surprise.

"Where's the package for Hollow Tree? The letters and things, I mean," he added, seeing Little Snap's look of amazement.

"In the bag with the rest," said the postboy.

"There ain't a dratted thing, an' there's alwus a big bundle o' Wednesdays."

"You must have overlooked it, Dan. I heard Belmont, at the Salt Works, say there was a larger package than common. It must be there."