"What did you do?"
"Posted it, of course—in a hollow stump over there near the tank with a slab of fungus on top for a lid!"
Ben Wade laughed aloud.
"Know what's in the thing?" he demanded abruptly.
"These stolen Government documents?"
"Fifty thousand dollars, you mean!"
"The son-of-a-gun!" muttered Kendrick, looking startled.
"But he doesn't happen to know that the bills are bogus—stage money, sandwiched between a couple of genuine bills of small denomination," chuckled Wade. He stopped short and stood in front of Kendrick with one hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Phil," he said seriously, "you've stumbled in on a little game that is being played out with stacked cards. We'll talk about it after breakfast. We'll be running up as far as Indian Creek to use the Y in the old ballast pit. You're coming along. We can stop at Rutland's caboose long enough for you to pick up your nightie and your safety razor."
"I don't think I understand, Mr. Wade," said Phil, puzzled.
"Not supposed to," retorted Wade. "Fact is, you're fired! You can't work for Rutland another minute——"