Almost in the same instant that the pony’s hoofs hit the plateau, the graceful limbs struck an astounding speed. Alden had no means of knowing the rate attained, but it must have been twenty-five miles an hour. It seemed more than bone and muscle could hold, and yet such was the animal’s perfection of form that he showed no apparent increase of effort. The still air was fanned into a gale which cut the face of the rider and made him contract his eyelashes and catch his breath. He did not try to restrain the peerless steed, for the animal, not Alden, was now the master.
“I can understand what poor Dick Lightfoot meant when he said he enjoyed this life more than anything else in the world,” thought Alden as his blood danced. “What delight this would be if the pony could keep it up for hours.”
And he would have done it had the ground continued favorable. It was through such seizure of chances that the wonderful system of the Pony Express Riders amazed the country throughout the months the service lasted, until the telegraph and afterward the railway put it out of business.
Alden kept up the policy of leaving every-
