"The poor old duck is bound to snuff himself out with the yellow cord if he don't recover the ruby," returned the cowboy. "That's what hits me close to home. We're going it blind"—and here McGlory dug some of the sand out of his eyes—"and we jumped into this with a touch-and-go that don't seem reasonable; still, I've got a sneaking notion we're on the right track. What's that on the hat ribbon?"
Matt had picked up the hat, and was turning it over in his hand.
"It's the name of a boat, I suppose," answered Matt, taking a look at the gilt letters. "'Hottentot,'" he added, reading the name.
"Oh, tell me!" exclaimed McGlory. "Hottentot! That's a warm label for a boat. But, say! Suppose One-Eye don't think enough of his cap to come back for it?"
"But he will," answered Matt. "This will bring him, I'll bet something handsome."
As he spoke. Matt pulled a square of folded paper out of the crown of the cap.
"Cowboy trick!" grinned McGlory. "Carryin' letters under the sweatband of a Stetson reminds me of home."
Matt had stepped to the roadside, the folded paper to one hand and the cap in the other.
"Had we better?" he pondered, voicing his thoughts.
"Better what?" queried McGlory.