"Yes, yes, I know! I saw the red-whiskered man take the money out of the satchel, then put it back again and push the satchel under that bench. But how did you get hold of it? That's what I want to know."
McGlory dropped the satchel and collapsed on the bench.
"Oh, that's the best ever," he laughed. "Those old hardshells were fooled at their own game. Queer about that money of Uncle Dan's. It's been in a good deal of a taking ever since it left Madison. George takes it from Uncle Dan, Red-whiskers takes it from George, Landers takes it from Red-whiskers, and now here's me taking it from Landers."
"Landers?" queried Mitt. "Did he take the money?"
"Took it the length of the boat. By then I was close enough to get hold of it myself. But you cut loose and tell me what went crossways with you—I've been worried a heap about that—and then I'll even up by tellin' how I jumped into the game."
Matt made short work of his end of the explanation, and McGlory consumed but little more time. While McGlory was talking, Matt was not only listening but also putting two and two together in his own mind.
The cowboy finished with another jubilant laugh, but Matt suddenly became grave and got up from the bench.
"Let's go outside, Joe," said he, "where we can keep an eye on our surroundings."
"What's there in our surroundings to worry us? We've got the money, haven't we?"
"Yes, but the 'taking' you mentioned a few minutes ago may keep up—unless we're on the alert. Suppose Big John, Kinky, and Ross come back here in the San Bruno? What would happen then? We haven't any Sprite to take us off, remember."