nutes afterwards, he was dressed as a western cowboy.

"Hullo!" exclaimed Rube. "Where're you off to?"

"Along to Laramie ter locate Nick Undrell," drawled Kiddie, fixing his
six-shooter in his belt.

He hastened out to the stables, saddled and mounted a pony, and started
off through the woodland towards the trail.

Hardly had he got out from among the trees when he heard the clattering
of a horse's galloping feet. He dropped the bridle over his pony's
head, leapt from his saddle, gathered the coils of his lariat in his
fist, and crept to the side of the trail. The galloping horse came
swiftly nearer. Kiddie peeped out over the edge of a boulder and
recognized his own bay hunter Regent.

The rider's face was hidden under his wide hat, but as he raised his
whip hand there was the gleam of a yellow and black striped vest.
Kiddie gripped his lariat ready to throw, but he did not throw it.
Instead, he whistled loud and shrill, and, as the horseman came abreast
of him, he called out--

"Nick--Nick!"

Nick Undrell drew rein, and, swinging sharply round, rode up to Kiddie.

"The very man I wanted to see," said Kiddie, dropping his lariat, and
seizing the hunter's palpitating muzzle in his hands. "Where is he,
Nick?"

"He?" echoed Nick Undrell, with a laugh. "Well, if your lordship's
referrin' ter Broken Feather, he's a prisoner in my shack, wearin'
handcuffs an' a pair of my boots, an' with two o' my boys standin' over
him with loaded revolvers. An' the boodle--the loot--the swag that the
greasy skunk stole from your cabin last night, it's all fixed up right
an' tight in Laramie Bank."

CHAPTER XXIII

EVIDENCE FOR THE PROSECUTION

"Good--very good," said Kiddie. "He's captured; and you're sure he
can't escape--eh?"

Nick Undrell laughed.

"Don't you alarm yourself any," he answered, dismounting from the bay
horse. "He ain't goin' t' escape, that's sure."

"Very well," returned Kiddie, slinging his coiled lariat over the horn
of his saddle. "In that case, I c'n afford to wait for your further
explanations until we get along to my cabin. Sheriff Blagg is there,
an' young Rube Carter."

He led his pony through the woodland by the same narrow trail that he
had followed a few minutes earlier, and it was not long before they
reached the stables.

"I presume," said Kiddie, when he was closing the door, leaving the two
horses secure in their stalls, "that Broken Feather was ridin' my horse
Rege