Each partner accused the other of the theft. Both were arrested, and detectives commenced to follow every clue.
Joe's arrest fell like a thunder-clap among us. The Brotherhood men took it up right away, and I went to see Joe, that very night. It was said that Joe had visited the Black Prince, the day before, and had been seen carrying away a large package, the night before the robbery.
Joe absolutely refused to say a word for or against himself.
"The detectives got this scheme up and know what they are doing," said he; "I don't. When they get all through, you'll know how it'll come out."
To all questions as to his guilt or innocence, to every query about the crime or his arrest, he replied alike, to friend or foe:
"Ask the sheriff; he's doing this."
He was in jail a long time, but nothing was proven against him and he was finally released.
Neither of the Englishmen could fasten the crime on his partner, and they sold out and drifted away, one going back to England and the other to Mexico.
Joe ran awhile on the road again and then took a job as chief-engineer of a big stamp-mill in Arizona, and going there he was lost to myself and the men on the road, and finally the Black Prince robbery passed into history, and nothing remained but the tradition, a sort of a myth of the mountains, like Captain Kidd's treasures, the amount only being increased by time. I believe that the last time I heard the story, it was calmly stated that thirty million dollars was taken.
When I was out West, last time, I got off the train at Santa Fé, and when gunning through the baggage for my kiester, I saw a trunk, bearing on its end this legend: