CHAPTER XI.
TED STRONG HAS A THEORY.
After Farley had been securely locked up in a storeroom without windows, they went to bed, feeling secure that there would be no further attempt to enter the house that night.
At breakfast they discussed the robbery after their guests had left the house.
"I don't understand what became of the money," said Ted. "It looks to me like one of those mysterious robberies, and the capture of Farley puts it up to the Riley and Creviss gang. Now that we've been touched personally we will take some interest in the gang, and I have a large crayon picture of about a dozen hitherto respectable young fellows learning useful trades in a reformatory institution."
"But that doesn't bring back our money, neither does it tell us how it was stolen or what became of it," said Ben.
"I can't get a thing out of Farley," said Ted. "I tackled him this morning as soon as I got up, but he wouldn't open his mouth. My belief is that he is in deadly fear of some one, probably Skip Riley."
"Well, we've got him where the hair is short, anyway," said Kit. "He was caught in the act, and will come out of prison an older and a wiser man."
"What else besides Farley did you see in the room, Ted?" asked Stella.
"I really couldn't say what it was," said Ted. "It was dark, and there was only the faintest kind of light outside from the stars. The room was perfectly dark. I was sitting on Farley's back holding him down. He had thrown the door open, and we were in the doorway, but there was a space between us and the door-jamb.
"Suddenly I heard a faint noise beside me and could just see something scud past me onto the veranda."
"What did it look like?"
"It was about as high as a small dog, only shorter and thicker than a dog, and ran with a clumsy, heavy, sideways motion."
"Are you sure it was a dog?"
"No, I'm not sure, for I didn't see it plainly. All I could see was that it looked like some kind of an animal, but just what kind I couldn't determine."
"Your description would lead me to believe that it was a coon."
"No, I don't think it was a coon, or I would have been able to distinguish it by its smell."
"I didn't know but that it might be a coon trained to steal and sneak out. I've heard of such things, and it is by no means impossible, for you know that coons, like crows, are natural-born thieves."
"By Jove, that gives me an idea. I think it was a dog, and that its strange gait was due to the fact that the money had been tied upon him so that he would get away with it in case Farley was caught."
"No, the dog theory is wrong. What about a trained monkey?" Stella looked around the table to see how this was taken.
"C'rect!" shouted Bud. "Stella, yer struck ther problem a solar plexus thet time."
"That does seem reasonable, and if it is true it solves the mysterious robberies of the Strongburg Trust Company's office, the post office, and Creviss' bank," said Ted.
"It's worth looking into, anyway," said Ben. "Now I wonder if there is such a thing as a trained monkey in my marvelous and magnificent gathering of the splendors of the Orient out there. By Jove, I'm going through that camp with a fine-tooth comb, and if I find a monk, I'll habeas-corpus him, and we'll hang him to the rafters."
"Well, mum's the word about the money," warned Ted. "We don't want this thing to leak out. If it does, there's a chance against us."
Although they all felt pretty blue about the loss of the money, they had nothing but hearty welcomes and smiles for their guests, who began to arrive from all parts of the county, and from far-distant States and Territories, to help rejoice with the boys for a prosperous year, not knowing that all the prosperity had fallen into the hands of thieves.
The grounds about the ranch house had been gayly decorated for the occasion. An enormous American flag flapped and snapped in the fresh breeze from the top of a tall staff in front of the house, and the Belle Fourche band was playing in a gayly decorated stand. The showmen had erected their tents, and already the boys and girls from the ranches and towns were going in and out, witnessing the wonders to be beheld in them.
Stella was receiving her girl guests on the veranda, for she was a great favorite among the cowgirls in the country on account of her friendliness and unaffected ways.
Mrs. Graham was welcoming the older women, while Ted and Jack Slate were shaking hands with the ranchmen and cowboys.
Clay's fires were going well, and the steer and sheep were being roasted for the noontime feast.
Ben had gone on a still-hunt among the tents belonging to the showman, and, while he found three small dogs, there was no sign of a monkey, and by adroit questioning he learned that they had had a monkey, but that it had died at Leadville, because the air in that altitude was too cold and rare for it.
These facts he communicated to Ted, and seemed to explode the monkey-thief theory.
During the morning there was a baseball game between the cowboys and the clerks from the stores in Soldier Butte and Strongburg, in which the score was forty-one to three in favor of the clerks. The cowboys couldn't play ball any more than a rabbit, encumbered as they were by their chaps, high-heeled boots, and spurs. It took a home-run hit to get one of them to first base.
After dinner the cowboy sports were to come off.
When Ted could get away from his duties as host for a few minutes he sauntered through the crowd, extending greetings to all whom he knew, but at the same time keeping a close watch over everything.
The theft of the money from the cubby-hole had aroused in him all his detective instincts.
He saw two or three of the young fellows who had been with Wiley Creviss the night of the ball, but he paid no attention to them. They were welcome to come to the festivities, and to remain so long as they behaved themselves.
But he determined to have them watched.
Soon he came upon some more of the Creviss gang and saw them mingle with several boys, whom he knew to be tough characters, from Strongburg.
"The clan is gathering," he said to himself. "We're likely to have trouble with those fellows before the day is over. I'll put Bud next to them, and have the boys watch them."
"Whom do you suppose I saw just now?"
It was Stella's voice, and she was standing at his elbow.
"Who?" he asked.
"Wiley Creviss."
"Is that so? I have been watching for him to come along. A lot of his fellows are here, and they are sticking pretty well together. Where did you see him?"
"I told Ben I'd take in his show even if no one else did, and I've kept my promise. When I was in that biggest tent I suddenly came upon Creviss in close conversation with the boss showman. When they saw me looking at them they separated in a hurry, and Creviss left the tent."
"H'm! I wonder if Ben knows this fellow who owns the show."
"Don't know, I'm sure. It wouldn't be a bad scheme to find out something about him in view of the robbery last night."
"You're right, Stella. Another thing I've been thinking about: I've been looking for Skip Riley, the Strongburg fireman, the supposed leader of the Flying Demons. If they are going to try any of their monkey business to-day he ought to be here."
"Haven't you heard the news? I intended to tell you, but must have forgotten. The last time I was in Strongburg I heard that Riley had resigned, and left the town for the East."
"I hadn't heard it. Then that puts it up to Creviss."
"But who is the fellow who runs the show? Ben says his name is Colonel Ben Robinson, and that he is an old circusman down on his luck temporarily."
"Look around and find out what you can. They will not suspect you if you ask questions as they would me. If you find out anything, let me know."
"All right, Ted, I'll circulate, and report."
Ted wandered over to the show tents, and entered them all, with kindly greetings to the performers, who all knew him as the leader of the broncho boys, and asked him if they could be excused from performing while the riding and other cowboy stunts were going forward, and Ted told them to lay off if they wanted to, as most of the guests would be out in the grand stand, anyhow.
In the last tent he entered he found the strong man lifting weights against a lot of husky cow-punchers, and the giant and midget.
But it was the midget that struck him most forcibly. He had a sly, cunning face and a bad eye, and when Ted came in he tried to hide behind the giant, who picked him up as one would a baby in arms. But the little fellow wriggled free and climbed down the big man like a monkey down a tree. Then he slipped across to the middle of the tent and shinned up the pole to the top, and hung there, looking down at Ted.
"What's the matter with the little fellow?" Ted asked the giant.
"Oh, he ain't got real good sense," rumbled the giant. "His brain stopped growing with his body, I reckon. But you can teach him tricks the same as you can a dog or a monkey, and he'll do them all right. I reckon he's afraid of you. He is of some people, the boss in particular."
"How long have you been with the boss?"
"Not very long. He just took the show over from the old boss a month ago. We were going to pieces over to Cheyenne, and he come along and bought us. He's been a showman in his time, but says he hasn't been in the biz for several years. He knows the biz, though, and has scads of money. We are well fed and get our salaries regular. Him and Prince Carl, that's the midget, are great pals. The midget sleeps in his tent, and the boss seldom lets him out of his sight."
"Say, Bellows, how many times have I got to tell you not to stand there gassing with patrons of the show? Every one don't want to bother with your theories and troubles." Ted turned, to face the boss showman.
"Oh, it's you, Mr. Strong?" he went on. "I didn't recognize your back. It's all right to talk to you. But I've got to call the giant down once in so often for taking up people's time, for he's an awful gabber."
He walked away, but when Ted tried to get the giant to tell him some more about the midget and the boss, he would not say a word.
But the giant had planted the seed of a theory in Ted's mind.
Presently Ted saw Stella beckoning to him in the crowd, and forced his way to her side.
She took his arm, and they got out of the crowd. Ted saw that she had something to communicate.
"Well?" he said, smiling down on her.
"There's going to be something doing here," said she. "The boss showman has been talking with several of the gang."
"All right. Did you hear anything about Skip Riley?"
"Yes. He's been gone from Strongburg about a month."
"Learn anything else about him?"
"Skip Riley is not his name at all."
"That so? What is it? Did you learn?"
"I was talking to a lady from Strongburg, one of those who got him a job on the fire department."
"What did she know about him?"
"She said that she was appointed a committee of one by the Ladies' Aid Society over there to look up the new fireman's career."
"And I suppose she ran onto some hot stuff?"
"It seems that the ex-convict, Skip Riley, had been a circus performer once upon a time, before he took to being a burglar."
"Was burglary the crime for which he was put in prison?"
"Yes, so she says. He was an aëronaut and acrobat."
"Good! And what was his stage name? Did she say?"
"Robinson—Ben Robinson. She says that she was told that he was quite famous in his day as a circus performer, but that he couldn't resist the temptation to steal, and so had to quit the business, as none of the circus proprietors would have him around."
"Did she say where she got this information?"
"Yes. It was sent to her by the warden of the penitentiary in which Riley was confined before he came to Strongburg."
"Then her information is probably correct. Stella, thanks to you, we've got them dead to rights. We've solved the mystery hanging around all these recent robberies."
"Nearly, but not quite. How were they accomplished?"
"That I don't know positively, but I have a theory which I believe will turn out to be correct."
"But about Riley?"
"Ben Robinson, the proprietor of this show, and Skip Riley, burglar and ex-convict, are one and the same man."