“You ve got a head on yuh,” said Slim soberly. “All right, get out yore money.”
Slim and Frijole’s coin showed heads—so Oscar went to get the horses at the ranch. It always worked—and Oscar never got wise to their scheme.
Slim and Frijole met James Wadsworth Longfellow Pelly on the street. Pelly had talked with Doctor Bogart, and found that the professor was missing. Pelly wasn’t in perfect physical condition, and he had lost his glasses.
“Somebody should go out and tell Mr. Gonyer,” said Pelly. “He don’t know what happened last night.”
“As a matter of fact,” said Slim Pickins gravely, “it’s too late for Pete Gonyer to do anythin’ about it, Pelly. He’s shy one team and wagon—and a squint-eyed cowpoke.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that Jud Bailey is dead.”
“If he ain’t, he’s the most durable cowpoke that ever lived. It’s three, four hundred feet to the bottom at that place, and he shore got a divin’ start.”
“You knew that the professor is missing, didn’t you?”
“Missin’?” gasped Frijole. “Missin’ what—his valise?”