A TERRIFIC TRAP.
It would have been difficult to describe Little Snap's feelings, as he
listened to the sounds of Tag Raggles' retreat, following her strange
warning.
"It may have been only a scare, after all," he mused, as he resumed his
journey. "I judge the source whence it came is not very reliable. It
would do me no good to speak of the affair at Greenbrier. The mere
mention of the name of Burrnock is enough to give them the fits there.
But I will keep my eyes open if I decide to go it alone."
Though at first he thought of mentioning the matter to the postmistress,
Little Snap concluded to say nothing of the threatened danger, while
determined not to be caught off his guard.
Thus he rode into the Wash Bowl that day with uncommon nervousness, and
an ear and an eye trained for whatever might come. The rustling of a
leaf would cause him to start, and once he felt sure he saw the outlines
of a man's form behind one of the bowlders.
But no manifestation of danger presented itself, and with rising hopes
he ascended the way to the Narrows, expecting now that if he was
attacked at all it would be on Eagle's Tracks, where he had so narrowly
escaped from the desperadoes of Blazed Acre the day before.
The trepidation on the part of the postboy does not by any means go to
show that he was lacking in true courage, but it was rather the natural
consequence under the circumstances.
He drew a good, long breath of relief as at last he passed over the
summit and caught a wide view of the broadening valley of the Kanawha.
"The warning was a scare, or Raggles was mistaken," he said, aloud. "But
I will confess it was trying. Move a little faster, Fairy."
Little Snap was never accosted by the old hermit on his downward trips,
so he met with no interruption until Salt Works was reached, where he
changed horses and resumed his journey with less than fifteen minutes'
delay.
"Our future congressman seems to be well favored to-day," remarked the
postmaster at Upper Loop, when Little Snap was ready to start on his
return trip at two o'clock. "He has no less than six registered letters,
and I imagine some of them are valuable."
The postboy paid little heed to this careless speech, not realizing how
vividly he was to recall it before he got home.
"Well, well," said the gossipy clerk at the Salt Works office, "the
Honorable Jason is in luck this time. Six registered letters, and a
nomination in each one, I suppose. To speak the truth, I suspicion he
would give all these letters for a seat in Congress."
Once more borne by a good steed, Little Snap began his tedious ascent
over the mountain forming the huge backbone between the valleys of the
Great and Little Kanawha and Greenbrier.
He found Uncle Solitaire awaiting him under the live oak, with the usual
question and melancholy message, after which he reached Greenbrier
without adventure.
"Six registered letters for Mr. Warfield," said the postmistress at
Greenbrier, as if there was a conspiracy to keep this fact fresh in
Little Snap's mind.
However, he heard nothing further of the precious letters until he had
accomplished his hard day's work and given the mail pouch into the hands
of Mr. Rimmon at Six Roads.
Nothing unusual had occurred at home during the day, and after supper
the postboy went into the post office, where he found a dozen or more
men gathered.
Whatever the subject of their conversation had been, it was suddenly
dropped upon his appearance.
He did not intend to stop, and inquiring if there was any mail for those
at his home, he was turning away, when he heard Mr. Warfield, in his
loud tone:
"Only three, Mr. Rimmon? I am sure there ought to be more."
"That is all reaching this office, Mr. Warfield."
"They may get along to-morrow, but I was expecting three or four others,
and two of them I was certain would come to-day. You must have
overlooked them."
Little Snap's attention was held by these words, and instantly his mind
reverted to the six registered letters. Had one-half of them failed to
reach their destination?
In the midst of his speculations Mr. Warfield approached him, to inquire
about his day's trip.
"Don't fail to let me know if anything unusual happens, Dix, though I
hope you will get along without further trouble. Perhaps you will. By
the way, I do not suppose you know anything about my registered
letters?"
"I would not be expected to, would I, Mr. Warfield?" replied Little
Snap, answering him with another question.
"No; I hardly suppose you would. Still you want to keep your eyes and
ears open. I had some letters due to-night which have not come. But
to-morrow will bring them or explain the reason of their not coming."
At the first opportunity Little Snap inquired of Mr. Rimmon concerning
the letters, to learn that there were really three less than had passed
through the offices on his route as far as Greenbrier to his knowledge.
"Why, there were six, Mr. Rimmon, started from Loop, and Budd Grass said
there were as many at her office."
"What! That don't seem possible," replied Mr. Rimmon, in great surprise.
"Who would dare to stop them?"
"That is what is puzzling me."
"Say, Dix," cried the postmaster, abruptly, "if I were you I wouldn't
mention this to any one else. Don't you see, it looks bad for you."
"But I haven't had the handling of them."
"I know; but at the same time it might cause a suspicion against you. I
hope they will come to-morrow. I won't say anything about them, and we
will see what a day brings forth."
Not wishing to give his mother any unnecessary alarm, Little Snap said
nothing of the missing letters at home, though he was troubled not a
little in his mind concerning their fate.
Mr. Rimmon did not mention them the following morning, nor did any of
the other postmasters on his route, so nothing disturbed the even tenor
of his trip, until he was entering the gloomy region of the Devil's Wash
Bowl and thoughts of the Burrnocks of Blazed Acre succeeded those of the
missing letters.
Naturally enough Little Snap's gaze was fixed upon the rugged scene
ahead, with that intentness born of the intuition of danger. He was
passing that point in the descent into the Bowl where for a few minutes
the craggy heights would be hidden from his view, when he was surprised
to see a white speck appear for a moment upon the dark background.
Quickly stopping Jack, he soon saw a similar object rise above the
beetling rocks of the Narrows, and after wavering for a moment in the
air sink out of sight.
At a loss to know what these meant, he watched the place for several
minutes, though he saw nothing further to explain the mystery.
Resolved not to be caught off his guard, if any harm was intended him,
he rode cautiously forward into the valley and on up the Devil's Stairs
leading to Eagle's Tracks.
Not a sound broke the solemn silence of the wild scene, save the steady
tread of Jack's feet, and Snap began to breathe easier as he approached
the upper edge of the Tracks and drew near the Narrows.
"In a moment I shall be around the point of rock and——"
A terrific explosion suddenly cut short his thoughts, and looking
backward, he was startled to see a huge portion of the cliff overhanging
the narrow road topple over and fall with a deafening crash on the spot
he had just passed.
Jack jumped madly forward at the startling sound, unchecked by his
rider, who was as anxious as the steed to get beyond the frowning wall
of rocks.
The next moment he reached the Narrows and was almost at the angle where
the way suddenly wound around to the other side of the cliff, when a
second explosion, more startling than the first, broke upon the air.
Looking up with dread expectations of what he was to witness, the
postboy reeled back in his saddle as he saw the whole side of the ledge
falling upon him, while huge blocks of stone were sent flying over his
head into the chasm yawning upon his left hand.
Too late to reach safety ahead, unable to turn back, a shudder ran
through his frame, as he realized that the next moment he must be
crushed into a shapeless mass by the rending rock!