“Our best bet,” said Frijole, “is for one of us to get a horse at the livery-stable, go out to the ranch and bring back enough rollin’-stock for all three of us. And make it quick. We’ll match coins--odd man goes.” “You ve got a head on yuh,” said Slim soberly. “All right, get out yore money.” Slim and Frijole’s coin showed heads--so Oscar went to get the horses at the ranch. It always worked--and Oscar never got wise to their scheme. * * * * * Slim and Frijole met James Wadsworth Longfellow Pelly on the street. Pelly had talked with Doctor Bogart, and found that the professor was missing. Pelly wasn’t in perfect physical condition, and he had lost his glasses. “Somebody should go out and tell Mr. Gonyer,” said Pelly. “He don’t know what happened last night.” “As a matter of fact,” said Slim Pickins gravely, “it’s too late for Pete Gonyer to do anythin’ about it, Pelly. He’s shy one team and wagon--and a squint-eyed cowpoke.” “Yes, I’m afraid that Jud Bailey is dead.” “If he ain’t, he’s the most durable cowpoke that ever lived. It’s three, four hundred feet to the bottom at that place, and he shore got a divin’ start.” “You knew that the professor is missing, didn’t you?” “Missin’?” gasped Frijole. “Missin’ what--his valise?” “No--he’s gone,” said Pelly. “Doctor Bogart went in to look at him, after we had left there last night--or this morning--and the professor had dressed and went out the window.” “Lovely dove!” snorted Slim. “Let’s go to the office and find the jug--I need medical assistance.” “Thank you,” said Pelly, “I do not need that stuff. I feel bad enough, as it is.” Slim had a key to the office, and they located the supply. They were enjoying their third cupful, when Bob Stickler, manager of the Yellow Warrior, came into the office, looking for Henry. “What was this about the accident on the grade last night?” he asked. “I’ve heard two or three versions.” “What did yuh hear?” asked Frijole soberly. “We don’t want ours to be the same. Yuh see, we was there, and maybe we saw it all wrong.” “Oh, I see--trying to make it sound funny, eh?” “It wasn’t funny,” said Slim. “The Circle G team and wagon went into the canyon, along with Jud Bailey, who was drivin’. He came around a jack-knife bend too blamed fast, shoved us in against the wall, and went off the edge.” “I see. Yes, I heard all that. How badly was the professor hurt?” “_Quien sabe?_ Doc put him to bed, but he dressed and sneaked out a winder.” “Probably didn’t know what he was doing.” “Yuh mean--before or after he fell?” “So you don’t know where the sheriff went, eh?” “Just between me and you--and I want this held in strictest confidence, Mr. Stickler--I don’t. All we know is that he’s gone, Judge is gone and so are their two horses.” “I might add to the confusion,” said Frijole owlishly, “by sayin’ that they’ve prob’ly gone to find the body.” “Jud Bailey’s body?” asked Stickler.