Colonel Scott gave the guards a brief account of what had taken place. Meanwhile Hippy went into his tent and returned holding a hat in one hand and a revolver in the other.
“What do you know about this?” demanded a guard sternly, whirling upon Hippy.
“Don’t get excited, Buddy; and don’t give me orders,” drawled the lieutenant. “Look out!” he exclaimed suddenly.
He need not have called out. One of the guards, also seeing Jim Badger turn and try to get away, grabbed the fellow by the collar and held him.
“This hat belongs to Badger,” said Hippy. “I picked it up last night near the spot where, I think, you’ll find their loot concealed. Is this your watch, Colonel?” he continued, now holding out a handsome watch to the colonel.
“It is! Where did you get it?”
“Same place.” This time Hippy did not call out, but jumped toward Taggart, who was running toward the forest. He caught up with the fellow, who stopped, reached out his foot and kicked viciously, landing in Hippy’s stomach. Wingate went down, but a guard was not far away and he caught the driver in a vise-like grip.
The guide and the driver were taken back to the settlement, and Taggart confessed that he and Badger had been robbing the hotel and coaching parties for a year or two, their work making it fairly easy to do this.
Back in Cinnabar they were met with the news that the car containing their ponies had been broken into and robbed and that the railroad detectives had found no trace of the animals.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace. “We’ll ship these animals home, as we’ll never hear of the missing ponies.”