And you may be very sure that the mighty mysterious thing known as the "gov'ment" lost none of its might, and nothing of its mystery, at the hands of its worthy official.
Uncle Ike left the group in front of the cabin, and, hurriedly entering the office, seated himself upon his throne.

A tall, thin, slow moving mule, brought to before a certain tree with the grace and dignity of an ocean liner coming into her slip.

Zeke Wheeler dismounted, and, with the saddle mail pouch over his arm, stalked solemnly across the yard and into the house, his spurs clinking on the gravel and rattling over the floor.

Following the mail carrier, the group of mountaineers entered, and, with Uncle Ike's entire family, took their places at a respectful distance from the holy place of mystery and might, in the north east corner of the room.
The postmaster, with a key attached by a small chain to one corner of the table, unlocked the flat pouch and drew forth the contents--five papers, three letters and one postal card.
The empty pouch was kicked contemptuously beneath the table.

The papers were tossed to one side.