"Who helped you steal it?"
"Nopody! I ditn't know it vos shtole ondil you shpeak aboudt it."
"Stop that line of talk, Burton," put in Matt. "Carl's story is straight, and it satisfies me."
"How much money did the Dutchman have when he came here this morning?" asked Burton.
"T'irty cents," replied Carl. "Modor Matt paid my railroadt fare from Lafayette to Chackson."
"Search him, McGlory," ordered Burton. "Let's see if he has anything about his clothes that will prove his guilt."
Carl began to laugh.
"What's the joke?" snorted Burton.
"Vy," was the answer, "to t'ink I haf eighdeen huntert tollars aboudt me und don't know dot. Go on mit der search, McGlory."
Carl lifted his hands above his head, and the cowboy began pushing his hands into Carl's pockets. In the second pocket he examined he found something which he pulled out and held up for the observation of all. It was a canvas sack, lettered in black, "Burton's Big Consolidated Shows."