He clapped his hand down on his knee. “By the jumping California frog, I’ve got it!” he told himself. “They hid the bulk of what they got from the Limited all together. Went out in a bunch to hide it. Blind-folded each other, and took turn about blinding up the trail. No one of them can go get the loot without the rest. When they want it, every one of these memoranda must be Johnny-on-the-spot before they can dig up the mazuma. No wonder Wolf Leroy searched so thorough for this bit of paper. I’ll bet a stack of blue chips against Wolf’s chance of heaven that he’s the sorest train-robber right this moment that ever punctured a car-window.” Collins laughed softly, nor had the smile died out of his eyes when Hawkes came into the room with information to the point. He had made a round of the corrals, and discovered that the outlaws’ horses had been put up at Jay Hardman’s place, a tumble-down feed-station on the edge of town. “Jay didn’t take kindly to my questions,” Hawkes explained, “but after a little rock-me-to-sleep-mother talk I soothed him down some, and cut the trail of Wolf Leroy and his partners. The old man give me several specimens of langwidge unwashed and uncombed when I told him Wolf and York was outlaws and train-robbers. Didn’t believe a word of it, he said. ’Twas just like the fool officers to jump an innocent party. I told Jay to keep his shirt on—he could turn his wolf lose when they framed up that he was in it. Well, sir! I plumb thought for a moment he was going to draw on me when I said that. Say he must be the fellow that’s in on that mine, with Leroy and York Neil. He’s a big, long-haired guy.” Collins’ eyes narrowed to slits, as they always did when he was thinking intensely. Were their suspicions of the showman about to be justified? Did Jay Hardman’s interest in Leroy have its source merely in their being birds of a feather, or was there a more direct community of lawlessness between them? Was he a member of Wolf Leroy’s murderous gang? Three men had joined in the chase of Dailey, but the tracks had told him that only two horses had galloped from the scene of the murder into the night. The inference left to draw was that a local accomplice had joined them in the chase of Scotty, and had slipped back home after the deed had been finished. What more likely than that Hardman had been this accomplice? Hawkes said he was a big long-haired fellow. So was the man that had held up the engineer of the Limited. He was—“J. H. begins hear.” Like a flash the ill-written scrawl jumped to his sight. “J. H.” was Jay Hardman. What luck! The doctor finished his work, and Collins tested his leg gingerly. “Del, I’m going over to have a little talk with the old man. Want to go along?” “You bet I do, Val”—from Del Hawkes. “You mustn’t walk on that leg for a week or two yet, Mr. Collins,” the doctor explained, shaking his head.