“Sorry to trouble you, Dick,” Corporal Rand met him at the door, “but Wyatt and I would like to see that bundle of stuff you secured that night from Burnnel and Emery. Where is it?”
“In my bunk,” Dick answered, “rolled up in my coat. I’ll get it for you.”
A moment later he secured the bundle, carried it to the table and opened it. Wyatt, Rand and Meade gathered in a little circle around him. He took up the objects, one by one, very much after the manner of a person taking inventory.
“This is Creel’s roll of money. This is mine. These bills and coins belong to the outlaws. This is my jack-knife and here is Sandy’s compass. This is my watch and this is Emery’s revolver.”
There remained a pocket-comb and mirror, a pipe—its bowl somewhat battered—two hunting knives and the ring with the two keys. As Dick picked up the last named object, Meade gave vent to a startled cry and jumped forward.
“Let’s see it! Let’s see it! Give it to me!”
Dick handed it over.
“Keys,” said Rand. “Who owns them?”
“I think they belong to one of the outlaws,” answered Dick.
“Outlaws!” shrieked Meade, his face distorted. “I should say not! They’re Dewberry’s keys. I’d know them anywhere.”