“Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Huntington! Don’t forget that this is the nearest point of habitation. Now, let me explain something to you.” Sangerly took a pencil from his pocket and began mapping off the table roughly. “According to the sheriff, with whom I had a long talk before he left for San Buenaventura this morning, he followed Billy Gee’s trail over every foot of the way—fifty-odd miles, and barren desert all of it. By barren, I mean flat, sandy country, and lacking those landmarks which would tempt any outlaw, hard-pressed, to hide his plunder. Moreover and most important, Billy Gee was wounded—shot by one of the paymaster’s crew as he was riding away. My opinion is, therefore, that he brought the money direct to your ranch and——”
“I can’t see how you figger that out, Mr. Sangerly,” broke in Lemuel hurriedly. “Ain’t you kinder insinuatin’ a leetle that I’m in cahoots with a train robber?” he added in measured tones.
Sangerly hastened to correct the impression. He caught the other’s hand, shook it laughingly. “The furthest thing from my mind, my friend,” he declared. “Certainly, I couldn’t imagine an accomplice doing what you did. It’s not reasonable. It would be ridiculous. But just follow me and you’ll agree with me that my theory is correct as to fact. Now, this is the exact situation: Here we have Billy Gee with Sheriff Warburton at his heels—not over two hours behind, mind you! Billy Gee is wounded, bleeding badly. He is traveling over a country as flat as this table, where there is no chance of hiding his booty with any assurance of ever being able to find it again—lack of landmarks, you understand? And all the time he is becoming weaker from loss of blood. From what little I saw of him to-day it is a question in my mind whether he would have risked getting off his horse to cache his stealings if he had had a chance, through fear of not being able to mount again.
“Anyhow, it is certain he was far more concerned over getting his wound attended to than he was about the money. So he must have pressed forward as rapidly as his horse could carry him, particularly since Warburton said that he had him in sight after daybreak and up to the time he dropped off the mesa onto the plains. Now, Mr. Huntington, the paymaster’s crew told the sheriff that Billy Gee stuffed the twenty thousand dollars—currency, all of it—into his saddlebags, and you brought him in without his saddlebags, I believe.”
“That’s c’rrect,” agreed Lemuel, with a troubled frown. “I found he’d crawled in my barn. Afterward, I located his hoss in the far end of the field. But, it seems to me——”
“I questioned the sheriff carefully on that point, but he said that all he knew was just what you told him,” interrupted Sangerly. “His theory was that the fellow turned his horse into your field when no one was watching and took the opportunity also of hiding his saddle and saddlebags, later on finding his way into the barn to wait until night when he might reach the home of his friend or relative unobserved. That’s what I believe, Mr. Huntington. I am quite convinced that Billy Gee cached that money on your ranch. He could lie low at this rendezvous of his, and some dark night when the whole affair had blown over, he’d simply slip out there and dig up the treasure. A very natural step to take, in my opinion.”
Lemuel nodded slowly. “It sounds reas’nable, at that. An’ you aim to look over the ground, I reckon, to see if you kin locate the cache.”
“Precisely. Warburton has promised me he’ll try to sweat the bandit into confessing. Meanwhile, I’ll work on this end with two railroad detectives whom I’ve brought with me. You’ll have no objections, of course, if we spend a few days snooping around the place, Mr. Huntington?” he asked smilingly.
“Not at all. Me an’ my daughter’s leavin’ for a two-week trip to-day, but I’ll stick the key under the front doormat, an’ you kin make yoreself to home.”
Sangerly thanked him. They left the booth and walked out to the street together. As they parted, Lemuel said: