Yuba Bill slowly descended. When he reached the ground, he plucked Thatcher aside by his coat sleeve:
“Ye don't mean to say ye had nothing in that bag ye was trying to get away with?”
“No,” said the laughing Thatcher frankly.
“And that Wiles warn't one o' them detectives?”
“Not to my knowledge, certainly.”
Yuba Bill sighed sadly, and returned to assist in the replacing of the coach on its wheels again.
“Never mind, Bill,” said one of the passengers sympathizingly, “we'll catch that man Wiles at Rawlings sure;” and he looked around at the inchoate vigilance committee, already “rounding into form” about him.
“Ketch him!” returned Yuba Bill, derisively, “why we've got to go back to the station; and afore we're off agin he's pinted fur Clarmont on the relay we lose. Ketch him! H-ll's full of such ketches!”
There was clearly nothing to do but to go back to the station to await the repairing of the coach. While this was being done Yuba Bill again drew Thatcher aside:
“I allers suspected that chap's game eye, but I didn't somehow allow for anything like this. I reckoned it was only the square thing to look arter things gen'rally, and 'specially your traps. So, to purvent troubil, and keep things about ekal, ez he was goin' away, I sorter lifted this yer bag of hiz outer the tail board of his sleigh. I don't know as it is any exchange or compensation, but it may give ye a chance to spot him agin, or him you. It strikes me as bein' far-minded and squar';” and with these words he deposited at the feet of the astounded Thatcher the black travelling bag of Mr. Wiles.