im of following me to the West. I am inclined
to think he robbed me----"
"I did not," ejaculated Powell Dike, for such really was his name.
"I believe you," replied Pawnee Brown. He had spoken to Dick and Rasco
of this man. "But you know who did rob Mortimer Arbuckle," he went on,
significantly.
"I--I--do not," answered Powell Dike, but his lips trembled.
"You lie, Dike. Now tell the truth."
Pawnee Brown saw the manner of man he had to deal with and tapped his
pistol. Instantly Powell Dike fell upon his knees.
"Don't--don't shoot me!" he whined. "I'll tell all--everything. I am not
dead positive, but--but I guess Louis Vorlange robbed Arbuckle."
Pawnee Brown looked at Mortimer Arbuckle to see what effect this
declaration might have upon Dick's father. He saw the ex-stock broker
start forward in amazement. Then he faltered, threw up his hands, and
fell forward in a dead faint!
CHAPTER XXV.
GOOD NEWS FROM WASHINGTON.
"Fainted, by Jove!"
So spoke Pawnee Brown as he sprang forward to Mortimer Arbuckle's aid.
The man was as pale as the driven snow, and for the instant the great
scout thought his very heart had stopped beating.
He raised Mortimer Arbuckle up and opened his collar and took off his
tie, that he might get some air.
"Wot's the row here?"
It was the voice of Peter Day, the backwoodsman who had agreed to take
care of Arbuckle during his illness. He had followed the man out of the
house to see that no harm might befall him.
"He has fainted," answered Pawnee Brown. "Fetch some water, and hold
that--hang it, he's gone!"
Pawnee Brown rushed to the barn door. Far away he saw Powell Dike
running as though the old Nick was after him. A second later the rascal
disappeared from view. The boomer never saw or heard of him again.
Between the great scout and Pawnee Brown, Mortimer Arbuckle was once
again taken to Day's home and made comfortable.
"He insisted on taking a walk to-day," explained the backwoodsman. "I
told him he couldn't stand it. I reckon he's as bad now as he ever was."
"Take good care of him, Day, and beware of any men who may be prowling
about," answered Pawnee Brown. "There is something wrong in the air, but
I'm satisfied that if we help this poor fellow we'll be on the right
side of the brush."
Mortimer Arbuckle was now coming around, but when he spoke he was quite
out of his mind. The doctor was hastily sent for, and he administered a
potion which spee
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