ust have hidden them
in the car, in spite of the fact that the cowboys who had caught them
insisted that they couldn't have had time to hide the papers. Anyway,
they spent an hour in ferreting about in my car, and even searched my
two darkies, on the possibility that the true letters had been passed
on to them.

While they were engaged in this, I was trying to think out some way of
letting Mr. Cullen and Albert know where the letters were. The problem
was to suggest the saddle to them, without letting the cowboys
understand, and by good luck I thought I had the means. Albert had
complained to me the day we had ridden out to the Indian dwellings
at Flagstaff that his saddle fretted some galled spots which he had
chafed on his trip to Moran's Point. Hoping he would "catch on," I
shouted to him--

"How are your sore spots, Albert?"

He looked at me in a puzzled way, and called, "Aw, I don't understand
you."

"Those sore spots you complained about to me the day before
yesterday," I explained.

He didn't seem any the less befogged as he replied, "I had forgotten
all about them."

"I've got a touch of the same trouble," I went on; "and, if I were
you, I'd look into the cause."

Albert only looked very much mystified, and I didn't dare say more,
for at this point the trio, with the sheriff, came out of my car. If I
hadn't known that the letters were safe, I could have read the story
in their faces, for more disgusted and angry-looking men I have rarely
seen.

They had a talk with the sheriff, and then Fred, Lord Ralles, and I
were marched off by the official, his lordship loudly demanding sight
of a warrant, and protesting against the illegality of his arrest,
varied at moments by threats to appeal to the British consul, minister
plenipo., her Majesty's Foreign Office, etc., all of which had about
as much influence on the sheriff and his cowboy assistants as a Moqui
Indian snake-dance would have in stopping a runaway engine. I confess
to feeling a certain grim satisfaction in the fact that if I was to be
shut off from seeing Madge, the Britisher was in the same box with me.

Ash Fork, though only six years old, had advanced far enough toward
civilization to have a small jail, and into that we were shoved. Night
was come by the time we were lodged there, and, being in pretty good
appetite, I struck the sheriff for some grub.

"I'll git yer somethin'," he said, good-naturedly; "but next time yer
shove people, Mr.