"If he keeps up his stealing," Jack declared, "he is more likely to be put in jail. That mule is certainly a bad actor."

"Huh!" grunted Jimmie. "He's got a sugar tooth, or he wouldn't steal!"

The boys drew up when nearly to the valley through which runs the North Fork and looked over the landscape. There was another range of mountains straight ahead, and beyond that the valley of the South Branch, for which they were headed.

"Looks like another climb and good-night!" Jack complained. "And Ned wanted this sent to-night. That's a right smart climb ahead of us,"

he added.

Jimmie coaxed Uncle Ike back to four feet again and patted him on the head before making any reply. Then he pointed to the south.

"Over there," he said, "is the Virginia line. The ridge ahead of us does no cross that. I know because I looked up this section once when Ned and I were thinking of running away for a rest."

"You always need a rest!" grinned Jack. "Why don't you make Uncle Ike stand still, like Dill Pickles, this old mountain ship of mine does?"

he added.

"Why do you call him Dill Pickles?" asked Jimmie. "He looks more like a razor-back with sails set in front."

"He's Dill Pickles because he's got a good disposition gone sour,"

Jack explained. "He's just about shaken the life out of me now.

Doesn't look it, does he?"

"Better call him Bones!" Jimmie advised. "As I was saying," he went on, "the ridge ahead of us drops down this side of the Virginia line, and we can dodge a climb by going around it."

"And get lost!" Jack grumbled.

"Lost--not. We follow down this valley--or up this valley, rather--until the ridge drops down. Then we go straight east until we come to the South Branch. And there you are."

"Here we go, then!" Jack shouted. "Set your sails and come along."

Uncle Ike wanted a test of speed and endurance right there, but Jimmie held him back. It might be that they would be obliged to return to the camp that night.

They soon left the high places and wound among foothills. Below lay a fertile valley, with handsome and well-tilled fields.

"We're making a hit with these mules!" laughed Jimmie, as they pa.s.sed along, the people staring at them from gates, doors, windows and fence-tops. "If these ladies and gentlemen ever see us again they'll be sure to know us."

It is not a great distance from the place where they came to the river to the city they sought, and the ground was covered in a couple of hours. The sun was still shining when they pa.s.sed through a busy street, certainly the center of observation.

When they entered the telegraph office Jack took out the message and handed it to the clerk at the desk without looking at it. The clerk studied it a moment and asked: "Day rates? This seems to be a night letter."

The boys eyed each other keenly for a moment, and then Jimmie said: "I'd have it sent right off if I were you. Ned wouldn't have said anything about its being a night letter if he had had any idea we'd get here so soon."

"All right," Jack said. "Send it now. We'll wait for a little while to see if there's an answer."

"It is in cipher," the clerk said, "and will take some time to send."

"I never looked at it," Jack cried. "I' don't even know where it is going."

"To the Secret Service chief, Washington," said the clerk. "Are you boys out here on secret service business?"

"We're out here to take pictures," Jimmie cut in. "We have nothing to do with that dispatch. It was given to us by an acquaintance to send out."

"He wanted to make sure it got into the right hands," Jack said.

"Will you call Washington and see if he's there--the chief?"

"You'll have to pay for the message."

Jack laid a banknote of large denomination down on the desk.

"Ask for the chief," he said, "and tell him to wire any instructions he may have for the sender in cipher if he wants to, but to give any instructions he may have for us about the delivery of the message in plain United States!"

"Come back in half an hour," said the clerk, "and I'll probably have something for you. I suppose this cipher message is an important one?" he added, suspiciously.

"Don't know what it is," Jack answered, truthfully.

The clerk evidently did not believe the boy for he stood at the desk gazing after him with a look of distrust on his face. The lads were no sooner out of the office than a thin, angular gentleman, dusky of face and very black and bright of eye, entered and walked up to the clerk.

"I sent a message here by a couple of boys," he said, "and I wish to withdraw it."

"You'll have to find the boys, then, and have them withdraw it,"

replied the clerk.

"But can't I recall the dispatch--my own dispatch?" demanded the other, exposing a $100 banknote in his palm. "It is worth something to me to get it back."

The clerk was angry at the plain attempt at bribery, so he turned back to a table and took up the message the boys had left.

"We have a message here," he said, "which may be recalled under proper conditions. Kindly tell me what your dispatch says."

"Which one did they file?" asked the other. "The one to Washington or the one to New York?"

The clerk laid the paper back on the desk.

"Give me the address you sent your message to at Washington," he said.

"It was the secretary of state," was the reply.

"And the message? Give me a few opening words."

"Read them!" snarled the other. "Can't you read English?"

"The message is in cipher!" said the clerk, "You also have the address wrong. You are evidently a fraud. Get out!"

When the boys returned to the office in half an hour the clerk called them over to the desk at once and told them of what had taken place.

"How did he ever follow us out without our seeing him?" asked Jimmie.

"He must have shot through the air," the other declared.

"Are you sure you kept a good lookout?" smiled the clerk.