He peered over the ledge of the cliff: “Dean,” he said, “there is certainly a package down there that looks like money.” “But it can’t be.” “I’ve a mind to climb down and see.” “Take care of the eagle.” Marcus grasped a short cudgel in one hand and descended the rope. He uttered a startled cry as he saw lying among the litter about the rock, a package secured in manilla paper. One end had been pecked out so as to show the ends of bank notes. Near it lay a large envelope, discolored and torn, but he made out on it the address: “Mr. Durand, Attorney, Springfield.” Near it lay a lot of pieces of paper, evidently its inclosure, but the eagles had so picked it to pieces that only fragments of the original papers remained. Marcus Ellison gathered up every scrap of paper and secured them, the envelope and the money package, in his coat. He was very pale as he again reached the cliff. He gave one of the boys a silver coin, and said to Dean: “Come on!” At a safe distance from the boys, Marcus took out pieces of paper. Dean watched him in wonderment. “Dean,” spoke Marcus huskily at last, “I have found the papers that prove my father’s innocence.” “What?” cried Dean. “Yes, but torn to pieces. Here a word, there a letter. They are useless. That proof has gone forever, for the eagles have eaten away whole portions of it, but from the envelope I know that I must be right.” Yes, Marcus was right, but the discovery was of no avail, for the fragments could not be connected, and with a sigh of despair Marcus threw them away. “The eagle must have carried the package here from some of Meg’s hiding places,” theorized Dean. This was true. In the crevice near the exit from the cave Meg kept a lot of dried meat. In this she had placed the package for safe-keeping, and the eagle had rifled it, and strangely brought it to the nest where Marcus had found it. The money was safe, only a few bills being torn. They counted it--seven thousand two hundred and fifty dollars. Then they discussed new plans. Dean secured the money in his coat, bade Marcus an unwilling adieu, and the next day reached Springfield, on the track of Tim Downey. CHAPTER XXXVI. TIM DOWNEY ARRESTED. Two days later, just at dusk, some startling occurrences were to be witnessed in the vicinity of Boyer’s Hotel in Springfield. Since the day previous, a strangely dressed boy had occupied Daley’s room. It was the scheming Tim Downey. Tim had replaced his old clothes with new ones, and having an opportunity to secure cheap the discarded suit of a lackey, he presented a decidedly comical appearance in his attire, and fancied that no one would recognize him in it. He at once wrote a letter to Colonel Darringford at Millville as soon as he reached the city. It was a vaguely worded epistle, and hinted that the colonel would save serious trouble for himself and his son by coming alone to a certain room at Boyer’s Hotel that night.