ier Butte
post office and the disappearance of the registered mail pouch that came
in on the train at two o'clock in the morning. It was thrown into the
inner office by the carrier, and the office securely locked. Yet in the
morning it could not be found, and there was nothing to show that the
post office had been entered."

"I reckon I haven't. We lost a bunch o' money in it ourselves."

"But we got it back."

"That's so, but the carrier is still in jail, awaitin' trial fer
stealin' the sack, an' I don't believe he had any more ter do with it
than I had."

"And yet the most careful examination by the post-office inspectors
failed to show that the place had been forcibly entered, and, although
the carrier, Jim Bliss, had witnesses to show that he went into the post
office with the sack, and came right out without it, still he is in
jail, accused of stealing it," said Kit.

"There are several other cases of mysterious robberies which I might
cite, but those are enough," said Ted. "But the curious thing about it
all is that the robbers left not the slightest trace, not a broken lock,
not a mark to show that a window was forced or a hole bored. When the
place is closed up at night there is the money, when it is opened in the
morning the money is gone. And again, these robberies only occur when
valuables are accidentally left out of the vaults."

"It is curious. Everything yer say is true, but I never thought erlong
it ez much ez you, an' I didn't figger out how near they wuz alike."

"Well, what's your theory?" asked Ben. "You started to tell us."

"Yes, who do you think committed these robberies?" asked Kit.

"Who but a gang of bad boys under the leadership and tutelage of a
criminal?" answered Ted. "Who but the gang of Strongburg and Soldier
Butte young toughs who go by the silly name of 'The Flying Demons'? If
they get gay around this ranch, we'll have to tie a can to them and head
them for the reform school or the penitentiary."

CHAPTER VI.

THE "FLYING DEMONS'" MESSAGE.

When Ted Strong stepped out on the veranda the morning after the ball he
found Stella staring curiously at a large, square piece of paper stuck
on the wall of the ranch house.

Nobody in the house had risen early, as they had all been up very late,
except Song, the cook, who, when he saw that no one was disposed to turn
out for an early breakfast, had gone out to work in the garden, in which
he had with much skill raised an ab