"Not a soul," and the showman plumped disappointedly down in his seat.
"Just a minute, Joe," interposed Matt, as the cowboy was about to climb back into the tonneau. "What's that white object in the road?" Matt pointed as he spoke. "There's one, just over the left-hand fork, and another beyond it."
"If you stop to bother with paper scraps," cried Burton, "we'll never get anywhere."
McGlory, however, turned back and picked up the object to which Matt had called his attention.
It was a scrap of paper, just as Burton had said. The scrap was a ragged square, as though it had been roughly torn, and measured about two inches across.
The cowboy examined it casually at first, then his face changed, and he gave it closer attention.
"My handwriting," he declared, looking up at Matt.
"How can that be?" scoffed Burton.
"I don't know how it can be," replied McGlory, "but it's a fact, all the same. I had a memorandum book, and have jotted down various things in it."
"Where'd you leave the memorandum book?" jested the showman impatiently; "in the monkey wagon?"