“The description covers yuh,” states Bill. “I got your pardner, who calls himself Archibald Ames, in jail. He’s already admitted the intent to rob it, but says if you robbed it he don’t know nothing about it. Said he was late meeting yuh, so he don’t know what yuh might ’a’ done.” “Whoever done it got seven thousand in that box,” states McGuire. “Seven thousand!” wonders Telescope. “I thought the clean-up was brought down yesterday.” “Some folks did,” grins McGuire. “We figured to double-cross some wise folks.” I hears a deep breath, and Chuck sets down hard on the step. Old man Whittaker comes out, and they has to chaw the whole thing over again. “Well,” says the old man, “I don’t think that Telescope done it, but under the circumstances I reckon he’ll have to go to jail.” “At least yuh can have breakfast in bed,” consoles Muley, and then he recites: “A man in jail don’t have no cares; The flight of time don’t bother him, There ain’t no place for him to go, The passing hours lightly skim. The judge may say, ‘A year or two, In places where they don’t need clocks,’ But you should care—when you get loose, You’ve seven thousand in that box.” “Muley, when I get loose I’m going to cut your rhymer square in two,” proclaims Telescope, and just then the old man leads Telescope’s bronc up, and he rides away with the posse. * * * * * We’re sad. Doggone, it sure is a sad sight to see our compatriot in the hands of the law. We smokes a while, and then I turns to Chuck— “Where is that seven thousand, Chuck?” He looks, queer-like, at me for a moment, and shakes his head. “Danged if I know, Hen.” “You had it, didn’t yuh?” “Nope. Listen; I held up that stage before it got to the ford. Sabe? I was going to chase Ricky away and drive it myself. Figured I’d have some fun with Telescope. Sabe? Well, I scared —— out of Ricky. He ain’t got no nerves anyway, and——” “Wait!” yelps Muley. “Do you mean to set there and tell us that you scared Ricky so bad that he didn’t know your physique from Telescope’s? How about the limp?” “Don’t rush me!” snaps Chuck. “Telescope was so cocky about that picture stuff that I figured to have some fun. Did yuh ever walk on stilts? Well, I did when I was a kid. I made me a pair that just filled my boots, and pulled a flour sack over my head. Limp? “Of course I’d limp. I danged near fell on my face when I yelled for him to stop. I made him get out and walk back up the road, and told him if he stopped I’d perforate him. I took the box off the seat, which I figured was that shipment, and looks her over. On it in big letters she proclaims to be dynamite. I lays that box back on the seat, gets my stilt tangled in a wheel, and fell plumb off the grade. “Well, the team ran away, that’s all I know. I figured that Ricky would stop ’em—they wasn’t running fast.” “What kind of a looking box?” asks Muley.