Getting this right really need it!
9. refer to story a3 and answer the following question. which of the following is not supported by the passage?
a. the mail was strapped in a pouch under the rider's thighs.
b. the rider rode great distances to deliver the mail.
c. people did not care about the pony express rider.
d. usually eighty pony riders were in the saddle at any given time
story a3
this is an excerpt from mark twain's roughing it. twain gives an eyewitness account of the
operation of the pony express, the west's first mail system.
the little flat mail-pockets strapped under the rider's thighs would each hold about the bulk of
a child's primer. they held many an important business chapter and newspaper letter, but
these were written on paper as airy and thin as gold-leaf, nearly, and thus bulk and weight were
economized. the stagecoach traveled about a hundred to a hundred and twenty-five miles a
day (twenty-four hours), the pony-rider about two hundred and fifty. there were about eighty
pony-riders in the saddle all the time, night and day, stretching in a long, scattering procession
from missouri to california, 40 flying eastward, and 40 toward the west, and among them
making 400 gallant horses earn a stirring livelihood and see a deal of scenery every single day in
the year.
we had a consuming desire, from the beginning, to see a pony-rider, but somehow or other all
that passed us and all that met us managed to streak by in the night, and so we heard only a
whiz and a hail, and the swift phantom of the desert was gone before we could get our heads
out of the windows. but now we were expecting one along every moment, and would see him
in broad daylight. presently the driver exclaims: "here he comes! "
every neck is stretched further, and every eye strained wider. away across the endless dead
level of the prairie a black speck appears against the sky, and it is plain that it moves. well, i
should think so! in a second or two it becomes a horse and rider, rising and falling, rising and
falling, rising and falling—sweeping toward us nearer and nearer—growing more and more
distinct, more and more sharply defined—nearer and still nearer, and the flutter of the hoofs
comes faintly to the ear—another instant a whoop and a hurrah from our upper deck, a wave
of the rider's hand, but no reply, and a man and a horse burst past our excited faces, and go
swinging away like a belated fragment of a storm