“I seen somethin’ funny las’ night down under the bridge!” he exclaimed. “I was settin’ down on the bank o’ Coyote Creek with my gal friend when I hears two men comin’ splashin’ across the creek, sheriff! They’re usin’ spotlight! I figgers they’re robbers, mebbe, an’ me an’ my gal jus’ holds our breaths! So they don’t see us, but they goes up under the end o’ the Third Street bridge an’ digs up a box an’ then they goes back across creek----” The sheriff pushed his chair back from the desk. “We know all about that, Fred,” he said; “Grandpa McMeel here jus’ reported it. I reckon we’d better go take a look at that hole right now, Shorty. As fer yuh, Perez, I’ll have to postpone seein’ about a job fer yuh a few minutes while we looks inter this hole business. Yuh wait here, an’ when we gets back I’ll call some o’ them sheep ranchers an’----” “Surely,” agreed Perez, bowing, “but mebbe I like go look at hole, too--ef sheriff no object to eet?” “Half the town’s thar now,” put in Grandpa McMeel suddenly. “I tell yuh, sheriff, it’s devilment, that’s what!” There was a hole under the east end of the Third Street bridge, sure enough. Quite a hole. The two mysterious men, whoever they might have been, had spaded over an area fully twelve by ten feet. They had dug extensively, it appeared, to locate the box, and had evidently taken it from a depth of some two feet or more near the far end of the excavation. The soft earth had crumbled in, however, and there was no telltale impression left to give the officers any accurate idea of the size of the box that had been unearthed. There was quite a crowd of interested citizens around and they had tramped out some of the signs about the place, no doubt. But the trail the men had taken to the river was plain enough--and quite astonishing in itself. “Great sufferin’ jack rabbits!” exclaimed the sheriff, as he stared at it. “That was some box they got outta thar, Shorty. Lookit, they drug it clear to the river--a long, narrer box--thar’s the trail clear as daylight right to the water!” “Yep,” said Shorty glumly, “an’ that’s all thar is, too. Thar ain’t no footprints at all, boss; that box they dragged wiped out the prints. What do yuh know about that?” The sheriff swore softly under his breath. “This is a hot one!” he remarked, as he stared around the crowd. “What do yuh suppose could have come off here las’ night? Speers, yuh saw the men, what did they look like, eh? Was it too dark fer yuh to get any descriptions?” Speers, thus honored before the whole crowd, shook his head.