"I threw it away when you started after me."

"Down at the railroad tracks?"

"Yes."

"Don't you believe that," broke in Bill Badger. "At least, not unless he emptied the satchel first."

"Show me the way you came," said Joe.

"Make him point out the satchel, or make him suffer," went on Bill Badger.

"I've got an idea!" cried our hero, suddenly. "Perhaps he left the satchel in the tree."

"That's so. Well, if you want to climb up and look around, I'll watch the pair of 'em."

"Don't let them get away."

"If they try it, they'll go to the hospital or the graveyard," replied the western young man, significantly.

"The satchel ain't in the tree," growled Caven, but his tone lacked positiveness.

"I'll soon know for certain," said our hero.

He climbed the tree with ease, having been used to such doings when living with the old hermit. As he went from branch to branch he kept his eyes open, and presently saw a bit of leather sticking out of a crotch.

He worked his way over and soon had the satchel in his possession.

"How are you making out?" called up Bill Badger.

"I've got it!" shouted our hero, joyfully.

"Got the papers?"

"Yes,--everything," said Joe, after a hasty examination.

"Hang the luck!" muttered Gaff Caven, much chagrined.

Our hero was soon on the ground once more. Here he examined the contents of the satchel with care. Everything was there, and, locking the bag, he slung the strap over his shoulder.

"Now, what's the next move?" queried Bill Badger.

"We ought to have these men locked up. How far is it to the nearest town?"

"Ten or twelve miles, I reckon. I don't know much about the roads."

"Why can't you let us go?" asked Malone. "You've got what you want."

"If I let you go you'll be trying to make more trouble for Mr. Vane and myself."

"Don't talk to them," growled Caven. "If you want to lock us up, do so!"

He was in an ugly humor and ready for a fight.

"We'll march 'em along," said Bill Badger, and so it was agreed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FATE OF TWO EVILDOERS.

"Are you going to let them arrest us?" whispered Pat Malone, as the whole party moved through the woods towards a wagon road which ran nearly parallel to the railroad tracks.

"Not if I can help it," Caven whispered back. "We must watch our chances."

Half a mile was covered and they came out on the road. It was growing dark and there were signs of a storm in the air.

"It's going to rain," said Joe, and he was right.

"See here, I don't want to get wet to the skin," growled Caven. "I'll catch my death of cold."

"There is a barn just ahead," said Bill Badger. "Let us get inside."

Joe was willing, and soon all were in the barn. It was now raining at a heavy rate and they were glad to be under shelter.

"With a barn there ought to be a house," remarked our hero. "But I don't see any."

It grew still darker, and the rain came down in perfect sheets. The roof of the barn leaked, and they had to move from one spot to another, to keep out of the drippings.

While this was going on Gaff Caven was working at the handkerchief that bound his wrists and soon had it loose. Pat Malone also liberated himself. Caven winked suggestively at his confederate.

"Watch me," he whispered. "When I give the signal we'll knock 'em both down and run for it."

"But the pistol--" began Malone.

"I'll take care of that."

In moving around the old barn Caven spotted a club and moved close to it. Suddenly he s.n.a.t.c.hed the weapon up and hit Bill Badger on the arm with it. The pistol flew into a corner and went off, sending a bullet into a board.

"Run!" yelled Caven, and leaped for the open doorway. Malone came beside him, and both ran off through the rain as fast as their legs could carry them.

Joe was startled and made after the pair. But at a groan from Bill Badger he paused.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.

"He gave me a stiff crack on the arm," growled the young westerner.

Joe ran for the corner and caught up the pistol. Then he leaped for the open doorway.