to the
open window mentioned.

"And so that is settled," they heard the man from New York remark. "I am
glad to hear it, Vorlange."

Vorlange! Dick started and so did Jack Rasco. The boy was trying to
think where he had heard it before. Ah, he had it now. Many and many a
time had he heard his parent murmur that name in his sleep, and the name
was coupled with many other things, dreadful to remember. Surely there
was some awful mystery here. What made his father mutter that name in
his dreams, and why at such time was he talking of murder and hanging,
and sobbing that he was innocent? A cold chill crept down the boy's
backbone. Was the heart of that secret to be laid bare at last?

CHAPTER XV.

AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION.

"Yes, it's settled, Powell; and as soon as we are done here with the
boomers, I'll get to work and find out what the claim is worth."

"How about being shadowed in the affair?"

"I'm not afraid--I'm laying my plans too well," answered Louis Vorlange.
"I would go ahead at once, but to throw up my position under the
government just now might excite suspicions."

"Have you the papers with you?"

"No; I left them at the cavalry camp. They are too valuable to carry in
one's coat pocket."

"Supposing the camp moves?"

"I have my belongings secreted in a nearby cave where they are as safe
as in a deposit vault of a bank."

"Well, Vorlange, what am I to do now I am out here?"

"Remain in Arkansas City for the present and take it easy."

"You promised me a hundred dollars on my arrival."

"And there it is."

There was the rustle of bank notes.

"New money, eh?" was Dike Powell's comment. "Been printing some out
here?"

"Not much. I know better than to go into the counterfeiting business."

Dick clutched Rasco's arm. The youth's face was full of concern.

"My father's money was in new bills," he whispered into his companion's
ear. Rasco nodded, but quickly motioned for silence.

"I reckon this is drinks on me," said Powell, arising. "Come down to the
bar before you go back to the cavalry camp."

"I'm in a hurry, Powell, but I'll take one glass," concluded Louis
Vorlange, and the two men hurried from the reading-room.

"He is the man--I feel certain of it!" burst from Dick's lips, when he
felt safe to speak. "Rasco, there is some mystery here. My father----"
He stopped short and bit his lip.

"I know wot's in yer mind, Dick. I've heard yer father go on in his
sleep, and war