A patrol wagon full of policemen had dashed up in front of the house, and they came running down the hall, followed by a horde of eager reporters, who stood aghast at the slaughter of a few minutes.
The only participant in the fight who could talk was the detective whom Ted had carried to the hall, and he was telling the chief of detectives in whispers what had occurred.
"That young fellow followed us in," he said, pointing to Ted. "He took me out, and then went in and finished the gang. He's a game one, he is. I don't know who he is, but, by Jove! he's a game un."
"Who were the gang?" asked the chief.
"'Big Bill' Minnis, 'Bull' Dorgan, and 'Feathers' Lavin," was the reply. "Checkers we caught on the corner, and the other member of the gang, Dude Wilcox, got away. I guess it was him that rode off with the swag in the automobile, but where he went we couldn't get."
"I can tell you about that," said Ted quietly to the chief.
Desmond looked up at him curiously.
"Not now," he said. "Don't go. I want to talk to you after a while. Now, brace up, Tom; you're going to come out all right. The ambulance is out here, and we'll get you to the hospital."
"It ain't no use to jolly me, chief," said the man on the floor. "I'm all in. I'm bleedin' inside. I've seen too many fellows with a shot like this ever to have any hopes. Send for my wife and a priest. I ain't afraid to go, chief, but I hate to leave Maggie like this."
"We'll take care of her, Tom. Get that off your mind."
"All right, chief. If you say so, I know it'll be all right. Poor girl, it's hard luck for her."
"That's right, Tom, but brace up and don't let her see that you're worried."
A woman's scream sounded through the hall, and a slender, girlish figure pushed its way toward the prostrate man.
"Tom," she cried, and knelt beside him. "Are you hit? Did they get you at last?"
"Oh, I ain't bad, Maggie," said the dying detective bravely. "The chief's going to have me sent to the hospital, and I'll be all right in a week."
But before midnight he died.
An hour later Ted met the chief of detectives.
"Get into my car," said the chief, "and come down to my office, and we'll have a talk."
In a short time they were at the Four Courts, the big central police station of St. Louis, and when they were in the chief's private office and the door barred to intruders the great detective turned inquiringly to Ted.
"Now, who are you, and how did you happen to be mixed up in that mess?" asked Desmond.
"My name is Ted Strong," began Ted.
Suddenly Chief Desmond sat up straight and looked at Ted sharply.
"Not the leader of the broncho boys, are you?" he asked.
"The same," said Ted.
"I know about you. What were you doing near those detectives, that you should have got in so handily?"
"I'm a deputy United States marshal, as perhaps you know."
Desmond nodded. "Yes, I know," he said.
"I was working on this very case," said Ted, "and I had got hold of one end of it, and was about to follow it to a conclusion, when I saw the man Checkers on the street, and was following him. He led me to the detectives. The minute I saw them and him, I knew there would be something doing."
"What did you know of Checkers?"
"Nothing at all, except that he knew somehow that I was working on the express-robbery cases, and yesterday he shadowed my partner and me to East St. Louis, where we left him behind in an automobile."
Ted then told the chief how he had come about taking possession of the red car, to which Desmond listened carefully. When Ted had finished, Desmond rose and paced the room for a minute.
"Young man, you've got the big end of the chase," he said. "Dude Wilcox is the man who we are positive killed the messenger and got away with the swag. If it were you who found out how he got away with it, you will have got the last of the gang."
"Is that all there is to it?" asked Ted.
"Lord bless you, no. That's only the bunch that has been working in St. Louis. The big end of it is operating from some town farther west. There's where Dude Wilcox came from. I don't know where they make their headquarters, and it is out of my territory. I have all I can do to take care of St. Louis."
"The government officers were of the opinion that St. Louis was headquarters."
"That was true up to a few weeks ago, but we made it so hot for them here that they emigrated."
"Well, there's no use in my staying here any longer. I might as well hike out west. I'm not much good in a big town, anyway. I suppose you'll have no trouble in handling Checkers without any word from me."
"Oh, yes. But let's have Checkers up and hear what he has to say for himself."
The chief pushed a button and presently an officer entered.
"Go down to the hold-over and bring Checkers to me," ordered the chief.
In less than ten minutes the officer was back again.
"The jailer says he has no such man, chief," was the report.
"Where is he?"
"I'll inquire."
Back he came in a few minutes.
"Casey had him on the corner waiting for the wagon, sir, but in the excitement during the fight Casey let go of Checkers for a moment, and he got away."
Ted could see that the chief was very angry, but he controlled his temper admirably.
"Very well," was all he said.
He turned and gave Ted a sharp look.
"If you stay around here much longer, you'll have to look out for Checkers. He's a dangerous man, as well with a knife as with a gun."
"I guess I can take care of him," answered Ted.
"You look as if you could, lad," said the chief.
After a few more minutes of conversation regarding the red motor car, during which the chief advised Ted to keep the car until he was through with it, Ted took his leave, and returned to the hotel.
There he found Bud pacing the floor.
"Peevish porcupines," grunted the old cow-puncher, "but you've got yourself in up to ther neck in printer's ink."
"How's that?" asked Ted.
"Haven't you seen the evening papers?"
"I've been too busy to look at them."
"I reckon you be. Busier than a cranberry merchant. Look at this."
Bud handed Ted a bundle of evening papers.
Of course, the fight between the detectives and the bandits was given an immense amount of space in the extras which followed one another rapidly from the presses. In all of them were accounts of Ted's going to the rescue of the detectives, and the statement that balls from Ted's revolver had killed two of the gang.
"Rubbish!" said Ted. "I didn't kill any bandits. I took a couple of shots at them after they had fired on me, that's all."
"Well, yer won't be able to get away from these newspaper stories. If any of ther gang run across yer, they'll shore go after yer with a hard plank. Ye've placed ther black mark on yerself with ther gang."
"All right. I can stand it if they can. I've got a few up my sleeve for them."
Then Ted related exactly how the thing happened, and of his talk with Desmond.
"And they let that fellow Checkers get away," sighed Ted. "The chief says he's the most dangerous of them all, and warned me to look out for him. Bud, I've got a hunch."
"Let her flicker. I'm kinder stuck on yer hunches; they pay dividends right erlong."
"The fellow in the check suit was the man who tried to stab me because I wouldn't let him see the anonymous letter. I don't know which was the real man, Checkers or the other. But there were many points of similarity between them, and when Checkers called for us to stop the automobile, it was the voice of the man who commanded me to give him the letter. Keep Checkers in your mind."
The next morning they went out to Don Dorrington's house and got out the automobile.
"We'll circulate around pretty well in this," said Ted, "and if Checkers is in town he'll spot us, and we may get a chance at him yet."
"What do you want with him?"
"I'm depending on him to lead us to headquarters."
For an hour or more they rode about the town, making the machine as conspicuous as possible.
"Bud, we're being followed," said Ted, nodding toward a yellow car that had been in evidence oftener than mere chance made possible.
"Yep. I've had him spotted fer some time," answered Bud.
"Why didn't you say something about it?" Ted laughed at Bud's silence.
"Oh, I knew that you were on to it, too," was the characteristic reply.
"What do you suppose he's chasing us for? He must know that he can't harm us."
"He don't want us. He wants that red car. It's a beautiful piece of red evidence against him an' his gang. Yer see, it's ther best kinder a clew."
"Right again. But he needn't think he can steal it, for he can't."
They put the car up during the middle of the day.
"We'll let it rest for a while," said Ted, as they ran it into a public garage. "This evening we'll take it out again, and if we're followed then we'll be sure that it is Checkers, and that he is on our trail."
It was seven o'clock when they trundled forth again.
A bright moonlight night made motoring highly enjoyable, and after they had run about for a couple of hours Bud got out, saying that he was tired of the sport, and would return to the hotel, and leave Ted to take the machine back to Don Dorrington's basement.
They had been followed by the yellow car again, but in going through Forest Park they had managed to give their trailer the slip among the intricate roads and bypaths, and had seen nothing of him for half an hour.
As soon as Ted had let Bud out, he hit up the speed, for the boulevard was comparatively free of traffic, and he fairly spun along to the western part of the city.
Cutting off the boulevard, he entered upon a side street to make a short cut to Dorrington's house.
He noticed, as he turned into the side street, a light-colored car standing close to the curb as he passed, but so many cars were standing in front of houses here and there that he paid no attention to it.
But he had no sooner passed than the light-colored car glided after him noiselessly. Ted's own machine was making so much noise that he was not aware of the presence of another car until it was abreast of him, and so close that he could reach out his hand and touch it.
He thought the car was trying to pass him close to the curb, and started to turn out to give it more steerage room.
"Sheer off, there," he called, "until I can get out of here."
Suddenly something wet struck him in the face. He gave a gasp, as a fearful suffocating pain filled his head and lungs, and he sank down into the bottom of the car, insensible.
At the same instant the man in the other car reached over and throttled the red car, then stopped his own.
Leaving his own car in the middle of the road, he leaped into the red car and gave her her full head.
In half an hour the red car had left the city and was speeding along a smooth country road in the moonlight.
Ted still lay in a stupor in the bottom of the car, and the only sound that came from him was an occasional gasp as his lungs, trying to recover from a shock, took in short gulps of air.
It was midnight before the red car slowed down.
Ahead in the moonlight rose the black bulk of a building.
It presented the appearance of a country house of some pretensions.
The house was dark. Not a light appeared at any of the windows.
The red car approached it cautiously, running into the deep shadow cast by a high brick wall. A dog on the other side of the wall barked a warning.
The man in the red car whistled softly in a peculiar way.
A window was raised somewhere, and the whistle was answered by another.
In a few minutes there was the sound of a man walking on a graveled path, then the creak of rusty iron and a gate swung open.
"All right?" asked a voice at the gate.
"You bet. Got them both," answered the man in the red machine.
"Bully for you. Run her in."
The red machine, with Ted still lying in the bottom, ran into a large yard, and the gate was closed again, and the car was stopped in front of the house.
"Come, help me carry him in," said the man in the car. "He'll be coming around all right in a few minutes, then we may have some trouble with him, for he's the very devil to fight."
Ted was dragged out of the car in no gentle manner, and carried into the house, which was unlighted save where the moonlight shone through the windows.
"Into the strong room with him," said the man of the house.
Ted was carried into a room and dumped upon a lounge. Then a light was struck, and both men bent over the prostrate form of the leader of the broncho boys.
Both of them started back.
"Whew! You must have given him an awful dose, Checkers," said the man of the house.
"Had to do it, Dude. If I hadn't, I'd never got him here, that's a cinch."
"Well, get his gun off before he comes to."
Ted was stripped of his weapons, a glass of water was thrown into his face, and he began to regain consciousness.
He had been shot down with an ammonia gun, and the powerful alkaloid gas had almost killed him. For a long time he breathed in gasps, but his splendid constitution pulled him through.
When they saw that he was recovering, the two men left the room, after examining the iron-barred windows, and as they went out they locked and barred the door behind them.
Ted lay for a long time only half conscious.
But gradually his senses returned, and he opened his eyes to find himself in darkness, trying hard to think what had happened to him.
He knew that he had been felled by something powerful and terrible, that had knocked him in a heap so suddenly that he hardly knew what had happened to him.
Slowly the consciousness of it all came to him. Some one in an automobile had ridden alongside him and thrown ammonia in his face.
His eyes were still smarting with it, and he wondered, seeing no light, if it had blinded him, and he was now lying in the dark when there was light all around him.
He struggled with this thought for a moment, because the idea of going blind was terrible to him.
He wondered where he was, and felt around and learned that he was lying on a couch.
Then he swung his feet to the floor and sat up. The ammonia had left him still weak, but gradually he became stronger, and got to his feet and began to explore the room with his fingers.
He found a chair and a table, and presently came to the door, which he tried to open, but could not.
Passing around the room, he arrived at the window, and, looking through the glass, saw a star, and thanked Heaven that he could see.
He tried the fastenings of the window, unlocked it, and threw it up, stretching out his hand. The window was closed with iron bars.
He had made the circuit of the room, and had discovered that he was securely shut in.
He went back to the lounge and lay down to think matters over.
He felt quite sure that the man Checkers had been his assailant. The warning had not been without reason, after all.
As he lay quietly he heard footsteps in the next room. Two men evidently had entered it. They were talking, and occasionally, when their voices rose higher than usual, he could catch a word or two.
From the tones of their voices he learned that the conversation was not of the most pleasant nature. They were quarreling about something.
By degrees their voices grew higher, and occasionally Ted caught such words as "money," "half," "thousand," enough to tell him that they were dividing something.
"They're quarreling over the swag," said Ted to himself. "Good! 'When thieves fall out, honest men get their dues,'" he quoted. "Keep it up, and I'll get you yet."
They did keep it up.
It was the voice of Checkers that rose high.
"I tell you I'll have half or I'll split on you, if I go to the 'stir' for the rest of my life."
"If you do split, you won't go to the 'stir.' The boys will kill you before you get the chance."
"Well, what's your proposition?"
"I'll give you five thousand. That's enough for putting me next to the train. What do you want? The earth? Didn't I do the dirty work? If I'd been caught, who'd have been soaked? You? I guess not. It would have been me who would have been killed, for I'm like the other fellows—I'd have fought until they killed me. You're not entitled to more than five thousand, and that's all you'll get."
"I won't take it. Half or I squeal."
"Squeal, then."
There was a sudden trampling of feet in the other room, the crash of an overturning table, followed by a yell of death agony, and the thud of a falling body.
"Great Scott, one of them is dead," said Ted, with a shudder.
He was listening intently, and heard a scuffle of feet, then hurried footsteps died away and a door slammed somewhere.
Deep silence followed.
Then the horror of the situation burst upon Ted, The house had been deserted by the only living creature, except himself, who was left to starve to death in this prison, with a dead man in the next room.
One or the other of the two men who had held him captive had done murder and escaped with the stolen money.
Ted lay speculating which was dead and which had escaped, but he could make nothing of it.
The night dragged wearily on for Ted could not sleep, for thinking of the dead man in the next room, and his own precarious position.
He reviewed the chances of his being rescued. They were very slim, indeed.
Bud and Chief Desmond would start a hunt for him about the city, but would not find him, and no one would think of looking for him in this deserted house.
But at last the night passed, and Ted watched with a grateful heart the gradual dawning of the day.
At last it was light enough to see, and he looked around the room.
It was old-fashioned and high. Through the window he could see a bit of the high brick fence, and a few trees and long, tangled, dead grass. That was the extent of his view from the window.
He examined the door, which was the only other means of exit from the room.
It was very heavy, and made of oak. The lock on it was massive and old-fashioned, and set into the oak frame so that an examination of it dispelled all hope of getting it off.
If he was to escape there was only one way, to cut a hole in the door. He felt for his knife. It was gone, and Ted wandered disconsolately to the couch and sat down to ponder. But the more he racked his brains the further he got from a plan of escape.
The day dragged slowly on, but he would not sleep for fear that he might miss some one passing to whom he could call and bring assistance.
Late in the afternoon he stepped to the window and looked at an apple tree in the grounds beyond. It was full of red apples, and he was very hungry, but they were not for him.
He wondered that he had not heard any one pass along the road on the other side of the brick wall.
Suddenly he noticed that the leaves in an apple tree were being violently agitated, although there was not a breath of wind stirring.
Some one was in the tree, and his first impulse was to yell for help, then he reflected that if it was a boy pilfering apples the cry would scare him, and his only chance for rescue would be ruined by the boy running away.
He would wait for the boy to come to the ground, and would then speak to him.
But as he was watching the tree intently the movement of the leaves ceased, and soon he perceived a peering face and two dark, roguish eyes. They reminded him of a bird, so bright and inquiring were they.
Ted smiled at the eyes, and thought he saw an answering twinkle in them.
They disappeared after a few moments. The leaves shook again, and a boy of about ten years, incredibly ragged, with a dirty face, hands, and bare feet and legs, dropped to the ground. His head was covered with a tangled mop of brown hair in lieu of a hat.
The boy stared at the window, all the while munching an apple, while from the bulges in his scant trousers it was evident that he had others for future consumption.
"Hello, boy!" said Ted, with a friendly way.
"Hello! Who are you?" said the boy, coming a few steps nearer, to get a better view.
"Do you mean what's my name?"
"Uh-huh!"
"My name is Ted Strong. What's yours?"
"Napoleon Bonaparte."
Ted laughed at the solemnity of the boy when he gave this answer.
"Well," said the boy, "it's just as much Napoleon as yours is Ted Strong."
"But my name is Ted Strong."
"Aw, come off."
"All right, if you don't believe me, ask me any questions you like to prove it."
"Where do you come from?"
"Moon Valley, South Dakota."
"That's right. What's the names of some of Ted Strong's fellers?"
Ted named them all, the boy giving a nod after every name.
"Now, what's the name of your horse? The one you ride most?"
"Sultan. You seem to know something about me."
"You bet. Well, maybe you're all right, but what are you doing here? I always thought you stayed out West—away out West."
"Usually I do."
"Then what are you doing in the haunted house?"
"Is this a haunted house?"
"You bet. There was a feller killed there once, and nobody will live in it no more."
"Honest, now, whatisyour name?"
"My name's— Say, are you sure enough Ted Strong?"
"Certainly I am."
The boy came closer, looking at Ted fixedly.
"Gee, I wouldn't go inter that house fer a hundred million dollars."
"I've been here all night, and it didn't scare me any."
"That settles it. I reckon you must be Ted Strong. He's the only feller I ever heard of that wouldn't be scared to stay in a haunted house. How did you get there?"
Without hesitation, Ted told the boy how he had been held up by a man in an automobile, and knocked out by ammonia fumes, and then locked up in the house. But he said nothing about the murdered man in the next room.
"Now I've told you all about myself, it's only fair that you should tell me about yourself."
"Oh, I ain't nothin'. I'm just 'Scrub.'"
"Haven't you got any other name?"
"Nary one that I know of that's fastened to me all the time."
"How's that?"
"When I'm living with old man Jones, I'm Scrub Jones, and when I'm with Mr. Foster, I'm Scrub Foster, and that way. I don't belong to nobody, an' I just live around doing chores for my keep. Just now I ain't got no place to stop, and I'm sleeping in hay-stacks and living on apples and turnips and potatoes, when I make a fire and bake 'em, and once in a while I trap a rabbit. But, gee, what a good time you must have!"
"How would you like to go with me out to Moon Valley?"
"Aw, quit your kiddin'."
"I mean it I'd just like to take you out there and give you a good time for once in your life."
"Would you? By golly, you can."
"Then I'll tell you what to do. Go around to the front door and come in, and back to this room, and unlock the door and let me out, and we'll go together."
"Gee, I wouldn't go into that house for four thousand barrels of hoarhound candy. Say, are you a prisoner?"
"I am, and if you don't come in and let me out I can't take you with me to Moon Valley."
"That's so. But I'm scared of the ghost."
"Oh, so you're afraid, are you?"
At this the boy flushed and fiddled with his toes in the grass.
"No kid that's afraid could live in Moon Valley. He'd be scared to death in a week."
"Are there ghosts there?"
"There are no such things as ghosts. Bet you never saw one yourself."
"No, I never did. But all the folks around here say there is ghosts in that house."
"Well, say there are, they wouldn't come out in the daytime, would they?"
"I reckon not. Gee, I'll come in."
The boy disappeared like a flash, and in a few moments Ted heard the front door open, then a scream.
"I'll bet he's found the dead man," said Ted, aloud, in a tone of annoyance. "That's just my luck."
The door slammed, and all was silent. The boy evidently had run away, and Ted was left alone in the house with the dead man.
Once more darkness descended upon the earth, and Ted took up another hole in his belt, and tried to believe that he was not hungry.
About nine o'clock Ted, who was lying on the couch looking at the ceiling, saw a faint flicker of light pass across it, and sprang to his feet. It was the light cast by a lantern somewhere outside.
He sprang to the window and looked out.
Behind the brick wall he could see the reflection of a bobbing lantern, and hear the shuffle of many feet.
"Ho, there!" he cried.
The shuffle stopped, and a voice that was trembling with fear answered him.
"Come in here, and let me out," called Ted.
"We'll be thar in a minute," was the answer, and presently the front door was thrown open, followed by exclamations, as whoever had come in viewed the body in the next room.
Then the voices were outside his door.
"You open it an' go in," said a voice. "You're the constable."
"Well, supposin' he's got a gun?" asked the constable tremulously.
"Don't be afraid," said Ted. "I have no gun. They took everything away from me."
"There! Ain't that enough? Open the door."
Ted heard the bar being taken down, then the key grate in the lock, and the door was thrown open with a bang. He found himself looking into the barrels of a shotgun.
"If yer makes a motion, I'll blow yer head plumb off, blame yer," shouted the man with the gun.
"Honest," said Ted, "I'm not armed."
"How come yuh here?"
"I was made insensible by ammonia fumes and brought here last night."
"How come yuh ter kill that man in ther next room?"
"I didn't kill him."
"That's a likely story. I find yuh alone in ther house with him. Yuh'll hev ter answer ter ther magistrate fer this."
"See here, my friend, how could I have killed that man, then come in here, and locked and barred the door on the outside?"
"He's got yuh there, Si," said one of the men.
"Look here," said Ted, showing his star. "I'm an officer of the law. The fellows who captured and brought me here were robbers, and I was on their trail. That's all there is to it. Now, let me pass. I want to see what is in the next room."
Taking up a lantern, Ted entered the room. Beside the overturned table lay the body of a man. It was not Checkers. There was nothing in the room except the table, two chairs, a broken lamp, which lay in a pool of kerosene on the floor, and the body of the murdered man.
Wait, what was this?
Beneath the table was a scrap of green.
It was a bank bill, and, drawing it forth, Ted found it to be a fifty-dollar note issue'd by the First National Bank of Green River, Nebraska. A valuable clew, this.
When he had searched the body of the dead man, and found several letters and a small memorandum book, he left the room and locked it.
"Notify the coroner," said he to the constable, "and give him this key. If he wants me as a witness in his inquest, he will find me at the Stratford Hotel, in St. Louis."
The constable promised to carry out Ted's instructions.
"Where is that boy Scrub?" asked Ted.
"Here I am," said the boy, emerging from the crowd.
"Who knows anything about this boy?" Ted asked.
"He's just a loose kid," said the constable. "His father died when he was young, and his mother left him a few years ago. Since then no one has claimed him."
"Then I will. Do you want to come with me?" Ted asked the boy. "I will give you a good home and clothes, teach you something, and make a useful man of you. Is he a good boy?"
Ted turned to the men about him.
"Yes, Scrub is a good boy, only he never ain't had no chance," seemed to be the universal verdict.
"Say the word, Scrub. Do you want to come with me?"
"You bet," said Scrub fervently.
"Good! Come along! We'll be getting back to St. Louis."
"But yuh can't get back to-night. The last train has gone."
"Never mind. I'll get there somehow. Some one lend me a lantern for a few minutes."
Ted was given one, and he went out into the yard and outhouses to search for the red motor car. He could not find it anywhere.
"Did any of you folks see a red automobile going down the road any time to-day?" he asked.
"Yes, there's a red machine down in the lane running over to the Rock Road," said one of the men. "But I reckon it's bust."
"Come on, Scrub, we'll take a look at it," said Ted, Leading off with the man who had seen the car, and followed by the whole crowd, Ted made his way to the lane.
Standing in the middle of it was the red car with its No. 118 swaying from the rear axle in the wind.
Evidently Checkers had started away in it, using it as a swift means of escape, but it had stopped, and, as he could go no farther in it, he had abandoned it in the road.
Ted examined the machinery carefully, but could find nothing wrong with it until he discovered that it had exhausted its supply of gasoline.
But he learned that the grocer at the village, half a mile away, had gasoline for sale, and two young fellows volunteered to go after some while Ted overhauled the car.
In half an hour he was ready to start. He made Scrub get into the seat, and, shaking hands with the constable and shouting a merry good-by to the others, he started for St. Louis.
It was past midnight when he drew up in front of the Stratford Hotel, hungry and tired. Scrub was fast asleep, and, taking him in his arms, Ted entered the hotel.
As he stepped inside, the clerk stared at him as if he had seen a ghost.
"How's everything?" asked Ted of the clerk.
"Great Scott, where did you come from?" asked, the clerk, and added hastily: "Better hurry upstairs to your room. Everybody is crazy about your disappearance."
Ted went up in the elevator with the boy still sleeping in his arms. There was a light in his room and a confused murmur of voices.
Without the formality of a knock he opened the door and entered. As he appeared in the doorway there was silence for a moment, then such a bedlam of shouts and laughter burst forth that every one on the floor was aroused.
"It's Ted! It's Ted!" they shouted, and crowded around him.
The place was full of them. Across the room he saw the shining face of Stella, smiling a welcome at him. Ben and Kit, Carl, Clay, and all of them were there, and sitting at the table was the chief of detectives.
"Hello! Holding a post-mortem over me?" asked Ted.
"It comes pretty near that," said Bud. "Dog-gone you, what do you mean by goin' erway an' hidin' out on us that way? What in ther name o' Sam Hill an' Billy Patterson hev yer picked up now?" Bud was looking curiously at the bundle of rags in Ted's arms, for the boy still slept.
"This is a new pard," said Ted. "If it hadn't been for this kid you'd probably never seen me again."
"Erlucerdate," demanded Bud.
"Not until some one goes out to the nearest restaurant and orders up a stack of grub for Scrub and me. I haven't had anything to eat or drink for thirty-six hours, and I'm almost all in, and this kid has been living on apples and water for a couple of weeks. Now, hustle somebody and let me put this kid on the bed—-my back's nearly broke—or maybe it's my stomach, they're so close together now I can't tell which it is that hurts."
While Ted was laying the boy on the bed he woke up, and, finding himself in a strange place, and a finer room than he had ever been in before, surrounded by a lot of rather boisterous young men, he leaped to the floor and started to the door. But Ted caught him by the arm and drew him back.
"What's the matter with you, you young savage?" said Ted.
"Oh, I'm all right now," said the boy. "When I woke up I got rattled, I guess, but as long as you're here it's all right."
The food came up now borne by two waiters and piloted by Kit. There were oysters and steak and potatoes and biscuit and a lot of what Missouri folk call "fixin's," and a big pot of coffee.
Scrub's eyes stood out like doorknobs as he viewed this wonderful array of things to eat. The table was cleared, the waiters set out the food, and the boys stood back to give Ted and the boy "room to swell," as Bud expressed it. The way they tucked into the good things was a caution.
After their hunger was satisfied and the waiters had restored order to the table, Ted began the story of his adventures since he had let Bud out of the automobile. As he talked, Stella wooed the small boy to her side, and listened to the story with her arm around his shoulder, and long before it was done Scrub was her worshiper forever.
Chief Desmond listened with close attention, and when Ted finished and exhibited the bill of the Green River Bank, which he examined carefully, he said:
"Mr. Strong, you've beaten us all to it. I will go out to-morrow—I mean to-day, for it's one o'clock now—and view the body myself. If it is, as seems almost certain to be, Dude Wilcox, one of the most dangerous men in the West is gone, but he has left behind for us to fight, and you to find, the man Checkers. This bill is your clew to the gang, but it is a counterfeit. As I have the thing figured out, the gang knew that forty thousand dollars was going to be shipped, but for some reason or other they dared not hold up the train out there, and telegraphed the gang in St. Louis to get it. Dude was at the head of the bunch here, and as it was a one-man game so near to St. Louis, Dude was elected to pull it off, which he did to the queen's taste. Perhaps the bill you have is the only counterfeit in the lot. Perhaps not. That is for you to work out."
"But how he managed to get away with the swag I haven't managed to figure out yet," said Ted.
"Of course, I don't know either, but deducing facts from what I know of the gang's methods, and from long experience with gentlemen of the road, I would say that the members of the gang who were killed in their rendezvous in Pine Street by my unfortunate men were awaiting the arrival of Dude with the swag. Checkers had secret knowledge that you had been put on their trail, and when he saw you pick up that red car in East St. Louis he was sure that you knew about the robbery and that you were on to Dude."
"That's likely," said Ted. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Well, he got into communication with Dude, and warned him against coming to the Pine Street place. You see, they had another rendezvous out in the country, a haunted house, the reputation of which would keep prying country boys away from it."
"Best sort of a place for a criminal hangout," said Ted.
"You're right, and now that you have discovered it, I'll take pains to see that it's never used for such again. But, as I was going to say, Dude's intention was to get out of town, return, go to the Pine Street room, divide the swag, and skip. He probably left the train at Somerset, or some other little town down the line, hid in the cornfields until dusk, stole a horse and buggy, and drove across the country to the haunted house, and later was joined by Checkers, who had been trailing you, and later succeeded in getting you. Had it not been for the quarrel between Dude and Checkers, it is more than likely that you would have been murdered by Checkers. But one murder was enough for his nerve, and, forgetting you, he vamosed."
The detective arose to take his departure, again congratulating Ted on the outcome of his adventure.
"Keep your eye peeled for Checkers, and if you do run across him, have your gun at half cock," he said, and, bidding good night to all, went away.
"And now, good fellows, all to bed," said Ted. "To-morrow we start for the West, and the capture of the head men of the train-robber syndicate, and the extermination of the business."
In the morning, before the others were up, Ted made Scrub take a bath, and then they sallied forth to a clothing store. When they came out, instead of the ragged and dirty little boy, there walked proudly by Ted's side a fine, clean, fresh-looking lad in a well-fitting serge suit, and other appointments that transformed him completely.
When they arrived at the hotel the boys professed not to know Scrub.
"Hello, picked up another kid?" asked Bud. "I swow, yer allers goin' round pickin' up mavericks. I reckon yer aim ter brand this one as well ez ther one yer brought in last night."
"Why, here's another kid," said Ben, looking over Scrub's new outfit with interest. "He don't look much like the one you brought in last night. I reckon that one has run away, I don't see him anywhere."
Poor Scrub was standing first on one foot and then on the other, fairly squirming with embarrassment.
Ted gave the boys the nod to cease teasing the boy.
"Don't mind those fellows, they're only joshing," said Ted.
"Oh, I don't mind it if they can get any fun out of it," said Scrub, with a smile. "Maybe, some day I can get back at them, when I know them better."
Stella came down in the elevator at that moment, and, catching sight of Scrub, gave a little scream of astonishment at his altered appearance.
"Goodness, what a fine-looking addition to the family!" she said, shaking hands with the boy, who blushed and looked pleased. "I don't like the name Scrub a bit. I'm going to change his name."
"This isn't leap year, Stella," said Ben.
"You hush! What name would you rather have than Scrub? That's no name for a broncho boy," she said to the boy.
"I don't know," answered the boy. "What name do you like?"
"I think she likes Ben better than any," said Ben, posing in a very handsome manner.
"Don't listen to him, he's always teasing. You want something short and easy to say."
"What's the matter with 'Say'?" said Ben. "That's always easy to remember. I notice that when a man wants to call another on the street he just hollers 'Say,' and half a dozen fellows turn around."
"Then that makes it too common," decided Stella. "What name would you suggest, Ted? He's got to have two names."
"Let us get one of the newspapers to start a voting contest on it."
"Ben, if you don't stop your foolishness, I won't play," said Stella.
"You name him, Stella," said Ted. "Anything you say goes."
"Then we'll call him Dick, after my father," said Stella. "He never had a boy, and always wanted one. I'm going to adopt this boy as a brother. His name shall be Dick Fosdick. That sounds funny, doesn't it, but I didn't do it on purpose."
There was a tear in her eye at the thought of her father, and the boys looked rather solemn, for while they hoped for the best, they didn't as yet know the lad, and perhaps they had saddled themselves with a future regret, but Stella trusted and believed in the little chap, who was very proud that at last he had thrown off and buried forever the name of Scrub.
That evening they took the train for the West, their destination being Green River.
The automobile Ted sent on by express that he might have it not only for use, for he was becoming attached to it, but as a clew to the detection of the express robbers.