CHAPTER XXXI.

A STARTLING RELIC OF THE FLOOD.

Declining this kind offer, the postboy continued on toward his destination, often finding it difficult to get along.

But slowly he worked his way up the valley, until he reached the spot where in the forenoon the river had been spanned by the pole bridge.

Of course there was no trace of this left. In fact, there was not a single familiar feature on the landscape of that doomed valley.

The stream had subsided, so he had no trouble in fording it a little above where the bridge had been.

Every vestige of vegetable growth was swept away, leaving the scene but a waste of rocks, and he could now look up the defile even to where the ruined dam stood out like a skeleton of rock.

Little Snap stopped for several minutes to gaze upon the sight, but he was about to move on, knowing that he had already lost so much time that he would be a couple of hours late, when a dark object, suspended from the branches of a tree on the mountainside above the reach of the flood, caught his attention.

Riding a little nearer to it, he saw that it was a man's coat.

"Is it possible some one was in the valley above here at the time?" he exclaimed. "Stand where you are, Tom, and I will get it."

With considerable hard climbing, he gained a position from which he secured the coat.

It was a blue jean jacket, looking the worse for wear.

"No great loss to the owner nor prize to me," he thought, as he returned to the side of his horse. "But it has a decidedly familiar look. I wonder if there is anything in its pockets to tell the owner's name?"

Beginning an investigation, he quickly drew forth a sheet of paper, which, from its crumpled condition, showed that it had been thrust away hastily.

Smoothing it out as best he could, he saw that one side was written over in a coarse, sprawling hand.

He easily read, while a look of anxiety came over his features:

"SIRS: Why is it you do not act more promptly and effectively? This delay is dangerous, and I am not going to brook it any longer. It puts every man of us in double the danger we should risk in quick, decisive action. I am going away for a few days, and I shall expect this work to have been finished before I get back. Look sharp, then, and get that route clear. We have fooled with that boy too long already."

There was no address nor signature to this obscure message, while the writing was in a hand unknown to Little Snap.

He read it over several times, and then examined the coat more closely.

No other paper was found, but when he had finished his survey of the garment he exclaimed:

"I have seen that jacket before, I am sure. I have it! It was on Pewee Burrnock's back!

"How about this letter. It is evident I am the one that is meant. Ha! I have a clew in regard to that, though I never saw that handwriting before. It looks as if the writer was trying to disguise his hand. That paper is just like that Mr. Rimmon and Mr. Warfield used in making out my bail, but I don't know which furnished it."

The hoof strokes of a horse caused the postboy to look up, when he discovered a horseman approaching from the direction of Salt Works.

A second look showed him that it was Austin Goings.

"I hoped I had seen the last of him. But I don't believe I will let him see this coat."

Little Snap quickly decided to conceal the garment under his saddle, and he had just accomplished this purpose as the horseman rode up.

"Hello, Mr. Lewis! I am glad to meet you again. I have heard of your adventure here, and I could not refrain from riding down to see the place. Particularly as I hoped to have the pleasure of your company back."

Little Snap was remounting his horse, and he made no reply to the speech.

Mr. Goings was extravagant in his praises of the postboy's ride for life.

"It must have been a thrilling situation. At Salt Works, where the whole account is known, they look upon you as a hero."

"But you seem to be in a hurry to move on, so I won't detain you. We can talk as we ride along."

"I am two hours behind time," said Little Snap.

"But no one can blame you for that, under the circumstances. They should reward you for heroic conduct instead."

The postboy making no reply to this, nothing farther was said, until, as they were leaving Tripping Waters Valley they met a party from Salt Works going down to view the scene of the flood.

Little Snap had to speak briefly to them, but he hardly stopped his horse.

At the post office he was again plied with questions, all of which he answered as briefly as possible.

"I suppose you are anxious to get on toward home," said the postmaster. "I don't blame you. Before you get along to-morrow we will fix up the road as best we can for you, though it will be some time before it will be in the condition it was this morning. I see that Goings is intending to ride up with you."

"Yes; do you know anything of him?"

"Not a thing; supposed he was a friend of yours. As near as I can make, he is looking after the political interests of Colonel Warfield, though he is doing it on the sly."

"He didn't speak very favorably of Mr. Warfield to me as we were coming down this morning."

"It's a funny way he has of drawing people out. All the same, he is working his best for Warfield. There is going to be a mass meeting here soon."

Without stopping to say more, Little Snap left the office to find Mr. Goings waiting for him at the door.

Springing into the saddle, the postboy resumed his journey at a pace which made it impossible for his companion to keep up a conversation, until they came in sight of the live oak, where Old Solitaire was wont to be seen.

Little Snap discovered him as soon as he came in sight of the place, and the next moment his companion exclaimed:

"Look! what old duffer is that!"

"Has my letter come to-day?" came the old, familiar question, while the squirrels suddenly stopped their nimble movements, and began to chatter as if with fear.

It may have been the sight of the strange horseman which had alarmed them.

The old hermit himself was eying the latter closely, as Little Snap gave his oft-repeated reply.

"I am sorry to trouble you," said the disappointed man, "but I have waited so long. Take this to her, and I am certain that to-morrow I shall get my letter."

The postboy took the proffered missive, and he and Mr. Goings were about to ride on, when the hermit suddenly stepped in front of the latter, saying:

"Who is this who rides with you to-day Postboy of the Kanawha?"