them above his head, and stood in the road guarding
his capture as the relief party came up.

"So you got 'em?" exclaimed the sheriff. "That makes the haul complete.
Our three below are coming along like lambs."

"These three," said the deputy, solemnly, "being trussed up the way they
is, looks more like chickens."

"Loosen up on 'em," said Glen. "That one's a scout. You could easily
tell he isn't one of 'em. Didn't you see the way they knocked him over?"

"Yes. He's a scout," confirmed Mr. Newton, coming up. "He has simply
been deceived by these fellows, supposing they were honest men. I hope
they haven't hurt you much, Burton."

"Hurt me!" cried Matt. "They were two to one and they knocked me down
but they couldn't hurt me. Let me give this big fellow just one--"

"That'll do, young fellow," said the sheriff. "These men are in the
hands of the law, now. They'll get whatever's coming to 'em."

It was a triumphant procession that wound its way back to town. Three of
the prisoners were placed in their car which Chick-chick was called
upon to engineer under the guardianship of the sheriff. This left Glen
to ride the motorcycle alone. Still desirous to repay Matt's good turn
he offered him passage but Matt preferred to ride the sheriff's horse.
He was unable to understand or appreciate any friendly offers from Glen,
for he felt that his share in the proceedings had been ludicrous if not
contemptible and expected scant mercy from either Glen or Chick-chick.
As a matter of fact, Glen would have been very glad to have his company,
both that he might repay his good turn and that he might have the
advantage of his experience in cycling, for Glen was a rank novice and
found great difficulty in getting back to camp.

Chick-chick drove the car all the way to the little calaboose where the
sheriff expected to confine the men until train time. The sheriff
expressed himself under great obligations.

"I don't hardly know what to say about the reward, son," he said. "It'll
have to split up a good many ways so there won't be an awful big slice
for any one of us."

"I'll leave it to you," agreed Chick-chick, magnanimously. "Maybe you'd
let me speak word to Jervice."

"Sure I will. You can talk a book into his ear if you like. But that
ain't sayin' as he'll say anything to you."

The sheriff had guessed correctly. Mr. J. Jervice was singularly
uncommunicative.

"What's meanin' of 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs'?" asked Chic