t have been Mr. Cullen, Jim," I declared, "for I found
him up at the other end of the car."

"Tell you it wuz, Mr. Gordon," Jim insisted. "I done seen his face
clar in de light, and he done go into Mr. Cullen's car whar de old
gentleman wuz sittin'."

That set me whistling to myself, and I laughed to think how near I
had come to giving nitroglycerin to a fellow who was only shamming
heart-failure; for that it was Frederic Cullen who had climbed on the
car I hadn't the slightest doubt, the resemblance between the two
brothers being quite strong enough to deceive any one who had never
seen them together. I smiled a little, and remarked to myself, "I
think I can make good my boast that I would catch the robbers; but
whether the Cullens will like my doing it, I question. What is more,
Lord Ralles will owe me a bottle." Then I thought of Madge, and didn't
feel as pleased over my success as I had felt a moment before.

By nine o'clock the posse and I were in the saddle and skirting the
San Francisco peaks. There was no use of pressing the ponies, for our
game wasn't trying to escape, and, for that matter, couldn't, as the
Colorado River wasn't passable within fifty miles. It was a lovely
moonlight night, and the ride through the pines was as pretty a one as
I remember ever to have made. It set me thinking of Madge and of our
talk the evening before, and of what a change twenty-four hours
had brought. It was lucky I was riding an Indian pony, or I should
probably have landed in a heap. I don't know that I should have cared
particularly if a prairie-dog burrow had made me dash my brains out,
for I wasn't happy over the job that lay before me.

We watered at Silver Spring at quarter-past twelve. From that point we
were clear of the pines and out on the plain, so we could go a better
pace. This brought us to the half-way ranch by two, where we gave the
ponies a feed and an hour's rest. We reached the last relay station
just as the moon set, about three-forty; and, as all the rest of the
ride was through coconino forest, we held up there for daylight,
getting a little sleep meanwhile.

We rode into the camp at the Grand Canon a little after eight, and the
deserted look of the tents gave me a moment's fright, for I feared
that the party had gone. Tolfree explained, however, that some had
ridden out to Moran Point, and the rest had gone down Hance's trail.
So I breakfasted and then took a look at Albert Cullen's Winchester.
Th