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He stopped short to glare in speechless amazement at a familiar figure almost under his nose.

“I thought I told you to stand guard back there, Alf Reesling,” he roared.

“Aw, thunder, he can’t run away,” protested Alf. “An’ nobody’s goin’ to steal him, so what’s the sense–“

“I’ll give you just fifteen minutes to get back there to Hawkins’s,” declared the marshal firmly. “If you’re not back there by that time, I’ll arrest you for contempt.”

“That suits me,” said Alf promptly.

“Yes, sir,” said Anderson, addressing the crowd, “I would have nabbed him today if he hadn’t gone an’ hung himself like this. He must have got onto the fact that I had him dead to rights. He knowed there wasn’t any escape for him,–no chance in the world. Wait a second! Don’t all talk at once,–and don’t ask questions! An’ say, Abner, it won’t do you any good to go round to the Banner office, because I swore Harry Squires to secrecy. So stay where you are. Harry won’t tell you a thing, even if your father-in-law is a regular subscriber. What time is it, Lum?”

On being informed by Lum Gillespie that it was later than he thought, Marshal Crow looked at his own watch and arose in some haste.

“By ginger, I got to get busy. I still got to see if I can find that letter Jake received yesterday afternoon. I wouldn’t be surprised if the contents of that letter had a good deal to do with his hurryin’ up this hangin’ business. Like as not it was a warnin’ from some confederate of his’n, lettin’ him know I was gettin’ purty hot on his trail. It’s mighty hard to keep these things from leakin’ out, ‘specially when you’re workin’ at long range as I’ve been fer some time. My investigations have been carried on from one end of the country to the other. I finally got ’em narrowed down to a place out west called Sandusky, Ohio, an’ I was just on the point of telegraphin’ to the police out there that I had their man when this thing happens.”

He was assisted in his search for the letter by a volunteer organization of about one hundred men and boys. The search was a most diligent one. Much to the disgust of Ed Higgins, the floor of Jake’s sleeping apartment was yanked up by willing, excited citizens; the hay-mow was ransacked from one end to the other; the grain bins were turned inside out, and there was some talk of ripping off a section of the roof. At half past twelve o’clock, the marshal went home to his midday meal, leaving the work in charge of Lum Gillespie, the garage owner, whose love for Mr. Higgins was governed entirely by the fact that the liveryman’s business interfered considerably with his own prosperity.

Secure in the seclusion of his own woodshed, Marshal Crow slyly withdrew Jake’s letter from an inside pocket and reread it with great care. Later on, having fortified himself with a substantial dinner, he returned to the hunt. Advising the toilers that he was going to do a little private searching, based on a “deduction” that had come to him while he was at home, he ambled off in the direction of Power House Gulley. Half an hour later he reappeared and instructed the crowd to knock off work. He had found the letter just where he figured he would find it!

“I don’t see why in thunder you didn’t figure it out at breakfast instead of at dinner,” growled Ed Higgins, moodily surveying the wreckage. “I’ve a notion to sue you for damages. Look at that box-stall! Look at that–“

“Never mind, Ed; I’ll have Lum an’ the rest of ’em put everything back in order, jest as they found it. Now, you fellers get to work and put things in shape around here. I’m goin’ to take this letter over an’ show it to Harry Squires. It proves everything,–absolutely everything. See here, Alf,–what in thunder are you doin’ here? Why ain’t you guardin’ them remains as I told you to do?”