rought me to the edge of the town, and I wheeled my pony
and rode down behind the rear of the buildings. In turning, I looked
back, and saw half a dozen mounted men already in pursuit, but I lost
sight of them the next moment. As soon as I reached a street leading
back to the railroad I turned again, and rode toward it, my one
thought being to get back, if possible, to the station, and put the
letters into the railroad agent's safe.

When I reached the main street I saw that my hope was futile, for
another batch of cowboys were coming in full gallop toward me, very
thoroughly heading me off in that direction. To escape them, I headed
up the street away from the station, with the pack in close pursuit.
They yelled at me to hold up, and I expected every moment to hear the
crack of revolvers, for the poorest shot among them would have found
no difficulty in dropping my horse at that distance if they had wanted
to stop me. It isn't a very nice sensation to keep your ears pricked
up in expectation of hearing the shooting begin, and to know that any
moment may be your last. I don't suppose I was on the ragged edge more
than thirty seconds, but they were enough to prove to me that to keep
one's back turned to an enemy as one runs away takes a deal more pluck
than to stand up and face his gun. Fortunately for me, my pursuers
felt so sure of my capture that not one of them drew a bead on me.

The moment I saw that there was no escape, I put my hand in my
breast-pocket and took out the letters, intending to tear them into
a hundred pieces. But as I did so I realized that to destroy United
States mail not merely entailed criminal liability, but was off color
morally. I faltered, balancing the outwitting of Camp against State's
prison, the doing my best for Madge against the wrong of it. I think
I'm as honest a fellow as the average, but I have to confess that I
couldn't decide to do right till I thought that Madge wouldn't want me
to be dishonest, even for her.

I turned across the railroad tracks, and cut in behind some
freight-cars that were standing on a siding. This put me out of view
of my pursuers for a moment, and in that instant I stood up in my
stirrups, lifted the broad leather flap of the saddle, and tucked
the letters underneath it, as far in as I could force them. It was a
desperate place in which to hide them, but the game was a desperate
one at best, and the very boldness of the idea might be its best
chance of s