“I’ll tell you,” said Hale, seating himself on Frank’s wagon. “The country for some time past has been flooded with a large amount of counterfeit money, gold, silver, and the green legal tender. We have looked for the rascals near home, but after a long search we found they were in the West, and I was picked out as the most experienced man to track them down.”
“And have you?”
“I think I have,” said Hale. “I have got one of my men in their stronghold, and he sent me word to-day, by a boy, that the wagons were coming back with a lot of money in them.”
“Wagons?” said Frank.
Harry Hale explained the counterfeiters’ mode of operating through a regular express line.
“But we must not stand here wasting time in talk,” he said. “My brave boys are being killed, perhaps, while I stand jabbering, for they were riding away from three times their own number. Are you willing to help me?”
“Willing?” said Frank, springing up to his seat. “Just give me a show for adventure, that’s all.”
“Or me,” said Gorse, jumping up to his seat.
“Hooroo!” cried Shea, swinging his old hat. “There’s bound to be a row.”
“Where away?” cried Frank.