make no sound," explained the sheriff. "When I
turned him over he was kinder mazy, didn't know where he was or what
had occurred, an' was like as he was sick. Afterward, however, he was
able t' give a circumstantial account of the robbery. His wife an'
daughter'd gone away to St. Louis. He was livin' alone in th'
emporium. Sunday evenin' he was on the point of goin' out ter meetin'
when, on openin' the door, he caught sight of two masked
men--strangers, so far's he c'n tell, though he'd an idea as to the
identity of one of 'em. They dropped on him instanter; a pair of arms
was flung around him, and a cloth that had a sickly sweet smell, like
the stuff given him in hospital t' send him asleep, was clapped over
his head. He struggled, but was soon overpowered, dragged across the
floor, and deposited unconscious in the darkest corner of the room. It
was while I was present that he first come ter know that his
thief-proof safe had been opened and that his pile of greenbacks had
been stolen. The safe had been opened with the key hidden back of the
tobacco jar on his writin' desk."

Isa Blagg broke off, looking to Kiddie for comment.

"Well?" said Kiddie. "Go on. What's your theory? You mentioned the
name of Nick Undrell a while back. Have you arrested him?"

"Nick's vamoosed," resumed the sheriff; "an' that goes against him. He
was sure in Laramie Saturday night--even in Brierley's saloon. He knew
about Sanson T. Wrangler's pile o' money bein' fixed up in the safe.
He wasn't anyways friendly disposed to Sanson T. neither. Thar's a
heap of evidence pointin' straight to Nick Undrell. It's in Nick's
methods ter wear a black face-mask an' leave his victim helplessly
gagged. I allow as Jim Thurston declares he met Nick at Three
Crossings Sunday evenin'; but Jim's a pard of Nick's, an' his
unsupported word ain't worth a whole lot, anyway."

Rube Carter leant forward. He was deeply interested in this case of
burglary with violence.

"Say, now, sheriff," he interposed, "didn't you look for footprints and
finger-marks?"

Isa shook his head.

"Never knew a clean boot make a print on a soft pile carpet," he
answered. "As fer finger-marks--Sanson T. Wrangler's ready ter swear
in court as the criminals both wore gloves, fully provin' that they
wasn't novices in the burglary business."

He turned again to Kiddie.

"Knowin' as you're kinder int'rested in the moral regeneration of Nick
Undrell, Kiddie," he w