“That may be, for you haven’t had much of a ride yet, but it is nearly dark; you must eat supper with us.”
“You are kind, but have we time? The mail is already late.”
Jenkins threw back his head and laughed. His mirth was so unrestrained that his comrades and even Alden smiled in sympathy.
“If you want a job I’ll recommend you to Colonel Majors. I saw from the way you rode when you came in sight that you understand the business.”
“How much are we behind the schedule?”
Jenkins drew out a big silver watch whose ticking could be heard by all. He squinted one eye and studied the figures.
“A little more than an hour: it’s no hanging matter if you make it two or three hours more.”
The action of the man reminded Alden that he had the watch and papers of Dick Lightfoot in his possession. He took them out and explaining the matter, handed them to Jenkins.
Had the youth been given his choice, he would have resumed his ride without another minute’s delay, but to refuse the invitation might offend. Moreover, he was hungry.
