The sheriff went at the thing methodically enough. He strode back and forth, up and down, this way and that, covering all the weeded area on the south of the bridge without discovering anything other than old tin cans, pieces of wood, scraps of iron, and the other débris that one might expect to find along a creek bank. He finally crossed under the bridge to the north side and began his investigations there. He had not been at work ten minutes on that side when he stopped in his tracks with a surprised snort. “By golly!” he exclaimed, and stooping over he picked up a rusty old black wallet. There was a rubber band around it. He snapped the band off and opened the wallet. Empty! Visions of greenbacks, calling cards, the owner’s name and address, perhaps--all faded away. Empty! But no, it wasn’t empty, after all! There was a newspaper clipping in one pocket of the old wallet, a clipping slightly yellowed with age. The sheriff took it out carefully, inspected it, held it closer to read: FIND NO TRACE OF BANK ROBBERS ALAMOSA BANDITS FADE INTO THIN AIR _Clarion_ goes to press this Thursday no trace has been found of the three gunmen who entered the Alamosa bank last week and got away with eight thousand dollars in cash and five thousand six hundred dollars in negotiable securities. They have apparently disappeared into thin air. Sheriff Ralph Baird of Alamosa has worked tirelessly in an effort to trace the men, but without avail. The reward of one thousand dollars offered by the Colorado State-Bankers’ Association has so far borne no fruit. It is hoped, however, that---- Sheriff Cook read no further. He put the clipping back in the wallet. He placed the wallet in his pocket. “Great sufferin’ jack rabbits,” he exclaimed hopelessly, as his face grew longer, “jus’ as I thought! It was th’ Alamosa loot that was buried here. What them crooks got away with las’ night! Eight years! Eight years that eight thousand dollars plus that five thousand six hundred in securities has been buried under this bridge here in Monte Vista, right under my nose!” The sheriff stalked on, like a man in a trance. “Las’ night they come back an’ git it, provin’ that I am asleep on the job! They was in town las’ night an’ got away clean! Further, that loot has been there eight years, an’ now it’s gone, an’, also, them robbers must have been here a little after that Alamosa job, eight years ago, to bury the stuff in the fust place! Gee whiz, what a nice mess now!” The sheriff headed for his office with rapid strides. “What the heck am I goin’ to do?” he asked himself, as he strode along. “It’s a cinch thar’s no ketchin’ them Alamosa robbers now ef they couldn’t be ketched eight years ago when the trail was hot! Findin’ that old wallet jus’ proves what I feared, an’ that’s all. It don’t help none otherwise. It jus’ makes the case more hopeless than ever! I kain’t see any use----”