his wet hands on a big blue apron that
looked incongruous on the old cowman, he pulled open a drawer in a
kitchen table and took out a flat blue envelope which he handed to
Jack.

"Almost forgot this," he said. "Your tellin' me about that there
scoundrel of a Greaser put everything else out o' my mind. Must be
gittin old an' forgetful. One o' these days I'll forgit my head."

He would have rambled on garrulously, but Jack interrupted. He turned
the envelope over curiously. It bore no address or writing of any
kind, and was sealed.

"What's this for, Pete?" Jack inquired.

"Oh, that's somethin' Mr. Rollins musta dropped out o' his pocket at
breakfast. Found it on the floor beside his chair after he was gone.
Will you give it to him?"

"All right."

Jack returned to join his companions.

"Have we any right to open this?" he said, after explaining how he had
obtained the envelope. "I for one believe that we should. It may
contain valuable information to us."

"You're right, Jack," said Mr. Temple. "I'm a partner in this oil
enterprise, and if one of our trusted employees is a scoundrel we are
entitled to know it. Give me the envelope. I'll take the
responsibility."

While the others looked on, Mr. Temple ran a knife along the edge and
slit the envelope open. Inside was a mass of documents and a letter.
Mr. Temple unfolded them, gave one look, then with an exclamation
jumped to his feet.

"Great Scott, boys," he cried. "This is important. Luck is certainly
with us."

CHAPTER XIV

THE KEY TO THE MYSTERY

"What is it?" cried Jack, pressing forward.

"Yes, tell us," demanded Bob and Frank as in one breath.

The three boys crowded around Mr. Temple, who in one hand held the
mass of documents and in the other the letter. He was reading the
latter.

"Boys," said he, "this proves Rollins's complicity in a plot against
us. But it makes matters more puzzling and complicated, too."

"How is that, sir?" Jack inquired.

"Well, first of all," said Mr. Temple, holding up the thick sheaf of
papers, "this is Mr. Hampton's own original list of the leases secured
by the group of independent oil operators to which I belong and which
he represents here in the field."

"Is it a copy of the list I recovered from the thief who stole it from
Mr. Hampton's house on Long Island?" asked Bob.

"No," smiled Mr. Temple. "It is the original. That was the copy. And
this letter with it is one written by Rollins to a ma