They threw the things back into the bag, but while they were engaged in this task Harry held up a bundle of letters to the light and separated two of them from the rest.

"These are dad's," he mused. "It strikes me they'd be safer in my pocket."

They saw no more powder kegs, but by and by they stopped at a ranch where they delivered a newspaper and a pound of coffee, and then plodded on in thick darkness which was only intensified by the patch of uncertain radiance that flickered upon the trail a yard or two in front of them. Even this failed them presently when Frank fell and dropped the lantern. It went out, and neither he nor Harry, who struck a match, could open it.

"I'm afraid I've bent the catch," said Frank.

"It's not going to matter much," Mr. Webster answered. "I guess we can fix the thing when we reach my place, and there isn't another ranch until we come to it."

They trudged along in silence for another hour. The trail seemed darker than ever, and it was oppressively still. Even the great trunks a few yards away were invisible, and once or twice Frank walked into the bushes that cl.u.s.tered among them. At last, however, the sound of running water came out of the gloom and grew louder until the boy fancied that there must be a rapid creek somewhere below them. Neither he nor Harry had been that way before. As they expected to get some shooting, he was carrying the double gun, which was beginning to feel heavy, while Harry had brought a rifle. When the roar of water had grown so loud that they could scarcely hear each other's footsteps, Mr. Webster stopped.

"There's an awkward place close ahead, and you had better let me go in front," he warned. "Keep a few yards behind and close to the bank on your left side. The trail goes down a gulch, and there's a steep drop to the creek."

He moved on until the boys could just see his black and shadowy figure.

The hollow beneath them was filled with impenetrable gloom, and they went down cautiously, trying to follow him and feeling with their feet for the edge of the bank on one hand. They had gone some little way when Mr. Webster seemed to stagger and suddenly disappear. Then there was a crash amidst the underbrush, a sound which might have been made by a heavy body rolling down a slope, and a hoa.r.s.e cry which was almost drowned by the clamor of the creek.

The boys stopped abruptly, uncertain what to do. Mr. Webster had evidently fallen down the declivity, but they could not tell where he was in the darkness, or if it was possible to reach him. Frank fancied that if he once moved out from the bank he would probably step over a ledge and plunge down into the creek, which, it was evident, would be of no service to Mr. Webster. By and by he was sincerely glad to hear a sound below him which seemed to indicate that the man was endeavoring to clamber up again. On recalling the incident afterward, he decided that they had stood waiting about a quarter of a minute.

"We must get down somehow," he said to Harry.

His companion did not answer, but gripped his arm warningly. Then to Frank's astonishment another sound rose up somewhere in front of them and a voice followed it.

"Is that you, Webster?" it asked.

"Sure!" was the answer. "I've pitched right down the gulch."

Frank would have scrambled forward, but Harry held him back.

"Hold on!" he said softly. "He doesn't seem hurt."

A crackling and snapping below them suggested that somebody was cautiously scrambling through the undergrowth toward Mr. Webster, while the latter was evidently crawling up the ascent. Frank wondered why Harry had restrained him until a blaze of light suddenly broke out. It showed a very steep bank with clumps of brush scattered about it dropping to a foaming creek, Mr. Webster holding on by the stem of a stunted pine, with the flour bag lying some distance higher up, and another figure moving toward him. A third man stood on the brink of the declivity holding a blazing pineknot. Where the boys stood, however, there was deep shadow.

Mr. Webster, so far as Frank could make out, was gazing at the man nearest him in astonishment.

"Well," he said sharply, "what do you want?"

"The mail," answered the other. "Stop right where you are!"

Then the meaning of the situation dawned on Frank. At that moment he saw Mr. Webster scramble forward to intercept the man who was making for the bag. The latter, however, was nearer it, and he had crept almost up to it while Mr. Webster was still several yards away. Without a moment's hesitation, Frank sprang out into the flickering light.

"Keep back!" he shouted. "Don't touch that bag!"

The radiance fell upon the barrel of his gun, and the next moment Harry emerged from the gloom with his rifle thrust forward. They decided afterward that the strangers could only have seen two indistinct figures with weapons in their hands and that there was nothing to indicate that they were not grown men.

"Hold him up!" shouted Mr. Webster, scrambling forward furiously as if to seize the man.

The latter stooped swiftly and made a grab at the bag as Frank pitched up his gun, though he kept the muzzle of it turned a little from the bent figure, but just then Harry's rifle flashed behind him and there was sudden darkness as the light fell into a thicket. Confused sounds followed the detonation, but it became evident to Frank, now quivering with excitement, that three separate persons were smashing through scrubby undergrowth as fast as they could manage. Then one of them stopped while the rest went on.

"Have you got the bag?" cried Harry.

"It's in my hand," said Mr. Webster.

They heard him floundering toward them, while the other sounds grew fainter, until he emerged from the gloom close beside Frank and threw the bag at his feet.

"Give me your gun," he said shortly. "Stop where you are!"

He disappeared again, but in another moment they saw him raking in a clump of brush from which a pale light still flickered, after which he came back toward them with something blazing feebly in his hand.

"Bring the bag, and be careful how you walk," he said.

When they joined him he was stooping over a short strip of wire stretched across the trail about a foot above the ground, holding the pineknot so that the light fell upon it.

"I guess that's the reason I fell down," he said. "You didn't touch that fellow, Harry."

"I didn't mean to," was the answer. "I wanted to scare him off, and I was mighty thankful when I saw I'd done it."

"Well," said Mr. Webster, "I expect that was wiser. It would have made things worse for your father if you'd plugged him. Anyway, they've cleared and we may as well get on."

"Aren't you hurt?" Frank inquired.

"There's a nasty rip on my leg and my arm feels mighty sore, but that's all the damage. Seems to me I haven't much to complain of, considering how far I fell."

He flung the pineknot down into the ravine as he turned away, and they had crossed the creek and were ascending the other side before one of them spoke again.

"Did you recognize either of the men?" Harry inquired.

"No," said Mr. Webster. "On the whole I don't know that I'd want to do it, though I'm kind of sorry I didn't get my hands upon the nearest fellow. It was those two letters for your father he was after."

"Yes," said Harry gravely, "you're right in that."

The trail got narrower presently and when the boys fell a little behind Harry laid a hand on Frank's arm.

"I'm not sure that dad and Barclay would have had Webster made mail carrier if they had expected this," he whispered. "There's no doubt the dope men are growing bolder."

CHAPTER XXVI

MR. BARCLAY LAYS HIS PLANS

It appeared that one of the letters which Harry had secured was from Mr.

Barclay, and shortly after the boys got back to the ranch Mr. Oliver sent them off to Bannington's with the sloop. Mr. Barclay, he said, was expected down by the next steamer and they must be there in time to take him off. It proved to be an uneventful trip and they returned to the cove with their pa.s.senger just as a gloomy day was dying out. Mr. Oliver was shut up with his guest for an hour after supper that night, but at length he called the boys into his room, where Mr. Barclay lay in a big chair with a cigar in his hand. He looked up with a smile when they came in.

"No doubt you'll be pleased to hear that we expect to round up your dope-running friends before the week is out," he said. "Anyway, I fancy it was a relief to my host."

"There's no doubt on that point," Mr. Oliver a.s.sured him. "I don't mind admitting that the suspense and the uncertainty as to what they might do were worrying me rather badly."