ay unless a wealthy friend he was
depending on came to his assistance that very night."

"Did he tell you the name of the man he expected there that night?"
asked Will.

"He did," replied the escaped convict, "but I do not now recall the
name. I can't for the life of me bring it back to my mind."

"The name," Chester interrupted, "was Myron M. Douglass."

"A Chicago multi-millionaire!" exclaimed Will.

"I asked Mr. Fremont what course he intended to pursue, and he replied
that there was only one thing he could do if the man he had appealed to
refused to aid him. As he told me this he opened a drawer in his desk
and pointed to an automatic revolver lying on top of a pile of papers."

"And you left it lying there?" asked Will.

"No," Chester answered, "I snatched the revolver out of the drawer and
brought it away with me. When we left the private room by the side door,
Mr. Fremont was standing beside his desk with a smile upon a very white
face. He said he had another revolver in another drawer, and would use
it if he did not hear from Mr. Douglass before midnight."

"Did you believe him to be in earnest?" asked Will.

"I did not think he would kill himself when it came down to the real
point."

"Did you immediately leave the vicinity of the bank?" asked the boy.

"No," replied Chester. "We walked about the building until after twelve
o'clock."

"Did you hear any significant sounds?" asked Will.

"Pistol-shots," was the reply.

"Then you knew what had taken place?"

"Yes, sir, we thought we did."

"What next?"

"While we stood at the side door of the bank, wondering what we ought to
do, Mr. Fremont's son came running up the steps. At first I felt
disposed to give him some intimation as to what had taken place, but I
hadn't the courage to do so. He opened the side door with a key and
entered, and we left the city and the state. We came here, and I was
dazed by a fall, but this last hurt has corrected the injury done by the
first one."

"There you are!" said Will. "The case is closed. The Boy Scouts may as
well go back to Chicago now. There's one more mystery. Who built the
fire in your old cave?"

"I did before the last fall," Wagner said.

"Of course, we can stay here and fish and hunt if we want to," laughed
Will, "and I think it may be well to do so for a week or so, but right
now we have come to The Ending of the Trail."

The boys spent two very pleasant weeks in Wyoming without further
anno