found him in a second-rate hotel. He had been drinking, and
confessed that he had had a row with Ward Porton and that one
night, when he was under the influence of liquor, Porton had
decamped, taking all but two of the miniatures with him. The two
miniatures had been sold to a fence in New York City for one
hundred dollars, and the police think they can easily get them
back. With the hundred dollars Crapsey had evidently gone on a
spree, and it was during this that Porton sneaked away with the
other miniatures. Crapsey had an idea that Porton was bound for
Boston, where he would take a steamer for Europe. But we know he
was mistaken.

"The case being as it is, my father, as well as your folks and Mr.
Wadsworth, thinks that Porton must have the pictures with him in
Mexico. That being the case, your Uncle Dunston says he will come
down to Texas at once to see you, and I am to come with him. What
will be done in the matter I don't know, although my father would
much rather give up ten thousand dollars than have the miniatures
destroyed. If you receive any further word from Ward Porton tell
him that I am coming down to negotiate with him. You had better
not mention your uncle's name."

"Looks as if Porton told the truth after all," announced Roger.
"Probably he watched his opportunity and the first chance he got he
decamped and left Crapsey to take care of himself."

"Most likely, Roger. I don't believe there is any honor among
thieves."

Ben had not said how soon he and Dunston Porter would arrive. But as
they would probably follow the letter the two chums looked for the
pair on almost every train. But two days passed, and neither put in an
appearance.

"They must have been delayed by something," was Dave's comment.

"Maybe they are trying to get that ten thousand dollars together,"
suggested Roger.

"I don't believe my Uncle Dunston will offer Porton any such money
right away," returned our hero. "He'll see first if he can't work it
so as to capture the rascal."

On the following morning Roger was sent southward on an errand for Mr.
Obray. When he returned he was very much excited.

"Dave, I think I saw Ward Porton again!" he exclaimed, as he rushed up
to our hero.

"Where was that?" questioned Dave, quickly.

"Down on that road which leads to the Rio Grande. There was a fellow
talking to a ranchman I've met several times, a Texan named Lawson. As
soon as he saw me he