et busy. I still got to see if I can find that
letter Jake received yesterday afternoon. I wouldn't be surprised if the
contents of that letter had a good deal to do with his hurryin' up this
hangin' business. Like as not it was a warnin' from some confederate of
his'n, lettin' him know I was gettin' purty hot on his trail. It's
mighty hard to keep these things from leakin' out, 'specially when
you're workin' at long range as I've been fer some time. My
investigations have been carried on from one end of the country to the
other. I finally got 'em narrowed down to a place out west called
Sandusky, Ohio, an' I was just on the point of telegraphin' to the
police out there that I had their man when this thing happens."

He was assisted in his search for the letter by a volunteer organization
of about one hundred men and boys. The search was a most diligent one.
Much to the disgust of Ed Higgins, the floor of Jake's sleeping
apartment was yanked up by willing, excited citizens; the hay-mow was
ransacked from one end to the other; the grain bins were turned inside
out, and there was some talk of ripping off a section of the roof. At
half past twelve o'clock, the marshal went home to his midday meal,
leaving the work in charge of Lum Gillespie, the garage owner, whose
love for Mr. Higgins was governed entirely by the fact that the
liveryman's business interfered considerably with his own prosperity.

Secure in the seclusion of his own woodshed, Marshal Crow slyly withdrew
Jake's letter from an inside pocket and reread it with great care. Later
on, having fortified himself with a substantial dinner, he returned to
the hunt. Advising the toilers that he was going to do a little private
searching, based on a "deduction" that had come to him while he was at
home, he ambled off in the direction of Power House Gulley. Half an hour
later he reappeared and instructed the crowd to knock off work. He had
found the letter just where he figured he would find it!

"I don't see why in thunder you didn't figure it out at breakfast
instead of at dinner," growled Ed Higgins, moodily surveying the
wreckage. "I've a notion to sue you for damages. Look at that box-stall!
Look at that--"

"Never mind, Ed; I'll have Lum an' the rest of 'em put everything back
in order, jest as they found it. Now, you fellers get to work and put
things in shape around here. I'm goin' to take this letter over an' show
it to Harry Squires. It proves everything,--a