"We'd better go to the railroad depot, Mr. Dunham," he said. "He'd be most likely to go there."
"You're right. We'll go."
They walked rapidly to the station, but too late, of course, for the train. The station-master was standing on the platform, superintending the removal of a trunk.
"Mr. Cross," said Robert, "I want to find out if a particular man left by the last train. I'll describe him."
"Yes," said the station-master, "that's the man I was wondering about. He had a wound in the shoulder."
"He got that from me," said Robert.
"Sho! you don't say so," returned the station-master, in surprise. "He said he was out hunting with a friend, and his friend's gun went off accidentally."
"I don't believe he feels very friendly to me," said Robert, smiling. "He's stolen five or six hundred dollars in gold from old Paul Nichols."
"It'll about kill the old man, won't it?"
"He feels pretty bad about it. For what place did he buy a ticket?"