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Show The Fiction MAIL RIDER Corner rying them rapidly down stream. Eben did all he could to help the noble beast in its fight to reach the opposite shore. He was beginning begin-ning to think he had underestimated underesti-mated the strength of the current, when they struck a sandbar. The horse floundered, nearly lost its footing, then gripped hard and held. Eben breathed a sigh of relief. re-lief. After a momentary pause he urged the beast toward the west bank. Ten feet from his goal he drew rein sharply. A loose stone had come tumbling down from the high bank. Eben sat very still, his heart pounding. A feathered bonnet showed above the embankment. He tried frantically to get his mount toward the east bank, but the river sheared off there; the strength of the current was against him. The Indians were running along the bank, howling and screaming their triumph. In another an-other moment he'd be swept against the high west bank and they'd be upon him. Remembering Col. Albee'i in structions, Eben unwrapped the leather mail pouch, gripped it tightly tight-ly and flung himself from the back of the floundering horse. Instantly water swept over his head. He swam as long and as far as he could beneath the surface. Then he bobbed into view and a sense of dismay sent his heart downward. He was within three feet of the west bank. A leering Indian was reaching out toward him. Dimly, as he went under again, Eben heard a chorus of wild shouts. He was far below the spot where the Indian had stood, but equally as close to the bank. To his amazement there were two soldiers standing there yelling and gesticulating. One of them was Gen. Newton. The sound of gunfire came - from upriver, "Thought you might have seen their smoke signal and realized they had sighted us," Gen. Newton was saying. "Figured Bonney would be up to something, so I led a detachment out to meet you." Eben sank to the ground. It was good to rest YOUNG EBEN CLIFFORD drew rein and studied the broad valley val-ley of the Hoosick at his feet. An hour ago he had abandoned the trail made by his predecessors on their ride from Bennington to Albany, Al-bany, and skirted the western shoulder of Mount Anthony. If In-dians In-dians were waits' wait-s' ing to ambush 3 -Minute him, Eben felt Fiction sure tney wuld I choose the Hoo sick. It offered a means of escape, should the mail rider by any chance be accompanied accompa-nied by an escort. Eben felt once more of the leather pouch that was tied behind the saddle. sad-dle. Contained therein was a dispatch dis-patch of the utmost importance for Gen. Newton at Albany. Col. Albee of the Bennington garrison had called Eben aside that morning. "No one is supposed to know you're carrying the papers, Eben. An escort would only excite suspicion. suspi-cion. You must go alone. There is, of course, the possibility that Bonney, Bon-ney, the white renegade, and his Indian cutthroats, have learned what I'm up to. In any event, if you're attacked, destroy the papers." pa-pers." He sat for a long time studying study-ing the valley without moving. A curious sense of excitement stirred his blood. Without knowing know-ing why, he sensed danger. A minute later ' he glimpsed a column of smoke rising from the summit of a hill across tbe valley. A signal fire! They had sighted him. Eben sucked in his breath. Well, his chances of getting through were pretty slim now. There was I f """iifliifrfUMH-i 11,11 H""- " .irf..x,lyJ,A.,w,j Be kept to the high ground for an hour, watching the smoke signal. only one ford in the Hoosick that was accessible at this time of year. They'd never let him cross it. The sensible thing to do was turn back and insist upon an escort. A thin smile played across his lips. Sensible, but not advisable. Eben explored the river for half a mile in both directions, then urged his mount into the stream. THE WATER WAS ICY, breath taking. In another moment the horse's legs went out from under him, and the swif current was car- |