“Important news?” asked Clancy, brushing the professor’s clothes with his hands. “Anything exciting, professor?”
“It has excited me,” was the reply, “because I am indirectly concerned in what has happened. Did I tell you that payment for the mine in the Picketposts was due to arrive this morning, by mail from the East?”
“I don’t think you told us, professor,” returned Frank, “but Mr. Bradlaugh gave us the information a short time ago. The stage must be in by this time. Did you get your money?”
“Not at all, I’m sorry to say. You see, the stage was robbed while coming through the cañon, robbed, and——”
“Robbed!” came the startled exclamation from Merriwell, Clancy, and Burke.
“Yes, robbed,” repeated the professor. “There wasn’t much aboard but the mail pouches. They were taken, and in one of them was my certified check, and also the check for Mrs. Boorland. The—the event is most deplorable. I can ill afford to lose twenty-five thousand dollars. You see, young gentlemen, I had been counting upon that money to afford me rest and comfort in my declining years. Now it is gone! I—I thought I had better tell Mr. Bradlaugh.”
CHAPTER XL.
ANOTHER BLOW.
A period of stunned silence settled over the little group in the trail. Uncle Sam suddenly and finally dispelled the stillness by tossing up his head and emitting a long and discordant “hee-haw!” The professor, whose nerves were in a lamentable state, jumped straight into the air. When he came down, he turned an indignant look at the mule.
“So!” he mumbled. “That animal is the most provoking creature that ever lived. One can never tell what he is going to do, nor when he is going to do it. Where are the golf links, Merriwell?”