Allen's face grew serious. "I never thought of that. But who would be
mean enough to do it?"

"The man who sent that forged letter to me would be mean enough."

"So he would! I must ask Wampole if he remembers any letter addressed to
us."

It was now the hottest part of the day. The road was dry and dusty and
the horses hung out their tongues as they toiled onward. All were glad
when they reached a portion of the road overhung by huge rocks a hundred
feet or more in height.

"A day in the saddle seems a long while," said Noel Urner.

"And we have four more days to follow," smiled Allen. "I was afraid it
would tire you."

"Oh, I am all right yet, Allen. But look, what is that ahead, a
building?"

"That's the crossroads hotel. Come, we have less than a mile more to
go."

The sight of the rude building ahead raised Noel Urner's spirits. Off he
went on a gallop, with Allen close at his heels. In ten minutes they
drew up at the rude horse block and dismounted.

Old Daddy Wampole, then a well-known character throughout Idaho, came
out on the porch of his ranch to greet them.

"Back ag'in, hey?" he called out to Allen. "Wall, thar ain't no new mail
in sense ye war here afore."

"I know that, Daddy," replied the young man. "I didn't come for the
mail, exactly. My friend and I are bound for the railroad station."

"Goin' ter San Francisco?"

"Yes; we want to stop here to-night."

"Ye air welcome ter do thet," and Daddy Wampole gave Noel a friendly
nod.

The young man was introduced and all three entered the ranch, one room
of which did duty as a general store, barroom, and post office. Before
anything else could be spoken of, Allen questioned Wampole concerning
the letters which had been in the box for several weeks back, and the
people who had called for them.

"I don't remember much about the letters, but I recerlect thet Cap'n
Grady took most all ez came in," was the suggestive reply from the
so-styled postmaster.

"So he took most of the letters, did he?" said Allen, slowly. "How many
of them, on a rough guess?"

"Seven or eight."

"And you can't remember if any of them were addressed to me?"

"No, I don't recerlect thet, Allen, but hold on--do ye suspect the cap'n
o' tamperin' with yer mail?"

"I don't believe he is above such an action," replied the young man,
bluntly.

"Wall, neither do I, privately speakin'. I was goin' ter say," went on
the ranch owner slowly, "when the cap'n got the lette