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Convinced now that the three women were accomplices of the outlaws–and this corroborated by Sheriff Muldoon’s statement that he had positively seen one of the three women peering over the rock and aiming a rifle at him, and that the same woman, two days before, had fired at him from the valley, knocking his gun out of his hand–Deputy Sheriff Mulcahy promptly arrested the women and had them taken in an automobile to the city.

At the jail, however, it was discovered that an unfortunate error had been made, and the ladies were released. They went at once to their homes. While their names have not been divulged it is reported that they are well known and highly esteemed members of the community, and much sympathy has been expressed for their disagreeable experience.

Up to a late hour last night no trace had been found of the outlaws. It is believed that they have left Thunder Cloud Glen and have penetrated farther into the mountains.

* * * * *

Charlie Sands came for us at the jail. He asked us no questions, which I thought strange, but he got a carriage and took us all to Tish’s. He did not speak a word on the way, except to ask us if we had no hats. On Tish’s replying meekly that we had left them in the cave, he said nothing more, but sat looking like a storm until we drew up at the house.

I dare say we did look curious. Our clothes were torn and draggled, and although we had washed at the jail we were still somewhat powder-streaked and grimy.

Charlie Sands led us into Tish’s parlor and shut the door. Then he turned and surveyed the three of us.

“Sit down,” he said grimly.

We sat. He stood looking down at each of us in turn.

“I’ll hear the story in a minute,” he said, still cold and disagreeable. “But first of all, Aunt Tish, I want to ask you if you realize that this last escapade of yours is a disgrace to the family?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Tish asserted with something of her old spirit. “It was all for Aggie’s missionary dime. I—-“

“A moment,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’m going to ask a question. I’ll listen after that. Did you or did you not hold up the C. & L. express car?”

We were too astounded to speak.

“Because if you did,” he said, “missionary dime or no missionary dime, I shall turn you over to the authorities! I have gone through a lot with you, Aunt Tish, in the past year.”

Aggie and I expected to see Tish rise in majesty and point him out of the room. But to our amazement she broke down and cried.

“No,” she said feebly, “we didn’t rob the car. But oh, Charlie, Charlie! We nursed that wretch Muldoon, and fed him and sent him off on Modestine in Aggie’s gray alpaca, and he got away; and if you say to go to jail I’ll go.”

“Muldoon!”

“The wretch who said he was Muldoon. The–the train robber.”

Well, it took hours to tell the story, and when we had all finished and Aggie had gone to bed in Tish’s spare room with hysteria, and Tish had gone to bed with tea and toast, Charlie Sands was still walking up and down the parlor, stopping now and then to mutter: “Well, I’ll be—-” and then going on with his pacing.

Hannah brought me a cup of junket at eight o’clock, for none of us had eaten dinner. I was sitting there with the cup in my lap when the doorbell rang. Charlie Sands answered it. It was a letter addressed to all three of us.

We called Tish and Aggie and they crept in, very subdued and pallid. Charlie Sands opened the letter and read it: