"Bother the location," broke in Carnes, impatiently. "Serve it up in a nutshell. What's the point?"
"The point, then, is this," drawing the map toward me. "The places where these robberies have been committed, are all in certain directions. Look; east, northeast, west, north; scarce one south, southeast, or southwest. Hence, I conclude that these stolen horses are run into some rendezvous that is not more than a five hours' ride from the scene of the theft."
"The dickens ye do!" muttered Carnes, under his breath.
"Again," I resumed, perceiving that Carnes was becoming deeply interested, and very alert, "the horses, etc., have been stolen from points ten, twelve, twenty miles, from Trafton; the most distant, so far as I have found out, is twenty-two miles."
"Ar-m-m-m?" from Carnes.
"Now, then, let us suppose the robbers to be living in this town. They leave here at nine, ten, or later when the distance is short. They ride fleet horses. At midnight, let us say, the robbery is committed. The horses must be off the road, and safe from prying eyes, before morning, and must remain perdu until the search is over. What, then? The question is, do the robbers turn them over to confederates, in order to get safely back to the town under cover of the night; or, is the hiding-place so near that no change is necessary?"
I paused for a comment, but Carnes sat mute.
"Now, then," I resumed, "I am supposing this lair of horse-thieves to be somewhere south, or nearly south, of the town, and not more than thirty miles distant."
"Umph!"