"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. DeVere, who had followed the two into the tent. "That's how your reel was taken!" and he pointed to a slit in the wall of the tent, close to where the black box had stood. So clean was the cut, having evidently been made with a very sharp instrument, that only when the wind swayed the canvas was it noticeable.
"By Jove! You're right!" cried Mr. Pertell. "That's how they got it, Russ. Someone sneaked up outside the tent, slit it open, reached in and lifted out the reel. It was done when we were asleep and——"
"That's what made the dogs bark!" exclaimed Russ. "Now the question is: Who was it?"
He looked at Mr. Pertell as he spoke, and at once a light of understanding came into the eyes of the manager.
"You mean——?" the latter began.
"Those fellows from the International!" finished Russ, quickly. "They must be still on our trail."
"What's the trouble?" asked Baldy Johnson, from outside the tent. "Has anything happened?"
"Oh, don't say there's more trouble," chimed in Ruth, as she came down out of the wagon where she and Alice slept. "What has happened now?"
"Nothing much, except that we've been robbed," spoke Russ, ruefully. "Our big reel is gone." To the cowboys and others of the company who crowded up he showed the slit in the tent wall, through which the theft had been perpetrated.
"Hum! I guess those fellows were smarter than we were," replied Baldy. "We scurried around in the night, but they gave us the slip."