For the first time a doubt as to the wisdom of letting him stay
at the ranch crossed his mind.

His suspicion was justified. Curly had been living on the edge of a secret
for weeks. Mystery was in the air. More than once he had turned a corner
to find the other four whispering over something. The group had
disintegrated at once with a casual indifference that did not deceive.
Occasionally a man had ridden into the yard late at night for private talk
with Stone, and Curly was morally certain that the man was the little
cowpuncher Dutch of the Circle C.

Through it all Curly wore a manner of open confidence. The furtive
whisperings did not appear to arouse his curiosity, nor did he intercept
any of the knowing looks that sometimes were exchanged. But all the time
his brain was busy with questions. What were they up to? What was it they
had planned?

Stone and Blackwell rode away one morning. To Curly the word was given
that they were going to Mesa. Four days later Soapy returned alone. Lute
had found a job, he said.

"That a paper sticking out of your pocket?" Flandrau asked.

Soapy, still astride his horse, tossed the _Saguache Sentinel_ to him as
he turned toward the stable.

"Lie number one nailed," Curly said to himself. "How came he with a
Saguache paper if he's been to Mesa?"

Caught between the folds of the paper was a railroad time table. It was a
schedule of the trains of the Texas, Arizona & Pacific for July. This was
the twenty-ninth of June. Certainly Soapy had lost no time getting the new
folder as soon as it was issued. Why? He might be going traveling. If so,
what had that to do with the mystery agitating him and his friends?

Curly turned the pages idly till a penciled marking caught his eye. Under
Number 4's time was scrawled, just below Saguache, the word Tin Cup, and
opposite it the figures 10:19. The express was due to leave Saguache at
9:57 in the evening. From there it pushed up to the divide and slid down
with air brakes set to Tin Cup three thousand feet lower. Soapy could not
want to catch the train fifteen miles the other side of Saguache. But this
note on the margin showed that he was interested in the time it reached
the water tank. There must be a reason for it.

Stone came back hurriedly from the corral, to find Curly absorbed in the
Sentinel.

"Seen anything of a railroad folder? I must a-dropped it."

"It was stuck in the paper. I notice there's liable to be trouble between
Fe