“Stranger things have happened. But that is beside the mark. You say you are needing help. I’ve half a mind to stop off and give you a bit of a lift.”
“By Jove, Calvin!—if you would——”
“Call it a go,” interrupted the guest. “I’ll take a chance and say that my business in San Francisco can wait a few days. The fellow I’m after out there won’t run away; it’s the one thing he doesn’t dare to do.”
“Say, old man! but that’s bully of you!” exclaimed the host, reaching across to grip the hand of helping. “You shall have everything in sight; I’ll put every man on the two divisions under your orders, and you can have a special train and my private car. If you don’t see what you want, just ask——”
The chemistry sharp was holding up his hand and laughing.
“No, no; hold on, Dick. You’ll have to let me tackle the thing in my own way, and there won’t be any grand-stand plays in it—in fact, I don’t mean to appear personally in it at all. Let’s see where we stand. You have a division detective of some sort, haven’t you?—a fellow who does the gun-play act when it becomes necessary?”
“We have; a young fellow named Archer Tarbell, who got his experience chasing cattle thieves in Montana. He’s a fine fellow, and it’s breaking his heart because he can’t get the nippers on our wire-devil.”
“All right. I may want to use him. Now another matter. You have a live newspaper in Brewster; I bought a copy of it on the train this morning. If I remember right, it’s called The Tribune. Is it friendly to your railroad?”
“Ordinarily, yes; though Treadwell, the owner, is independent enough to print anything that he thinks is news.”
“Know him pretty well?”