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Cut of signature is facsimile of his original writing. With this overwhelming indictment against the liberty of the fugitive, to escape which Greenfield would have to change his temperament as well as his physical aspect, Inspector Frawley took the first steamer from New York to the Isthmus of Panama.
"I would like to observe," said Frawley thoughtfully, without noticing his surprise, "that there is a bit of an error in that description, sir. It's the left ear that's broken. Furthermore, he don't toe out excepting when he does it on a purpose. So it's Bucky Greenfield I'm to bring back, sir?" The Secretary nodded, penciling Frawley's correction on the paper.
The view of Greenfield sauntering lightly away among the noisy tables, bravado in his manner, deviltry in his heart, was the last glimpse Inspector Frawley was destined to have of him in many months. True, Greenfield had not lied: the address was genuine, but the man was gone. For days Frawley had the city scoured without gaining a clue. No steamer had left the harbor, not even a tramp.
He advanced furiously against an imaginary tree, struck his forehead, and toppled over insensible. Frawley returned to consciousness to find himself in the hut of a half-breed Indian, who was forcing a soup of herbs between his lips. Two days later he regained his strength sufficiently to reach a ranch owned by Englishmen.
His head was reeling, the indignant blood rushed to his nostrils and his ears, his lungs no longer could master the divine air. Then suddenly the mules stopped, exhausted. Through the maelstrom the guide shrieked to him not to use the spur. Frawley felt himself in danger of dying, and had no resentment.
Burk, Hugh Mooney, James Whelan, Capt. James Doyle, John Conners, Edward Frawley, James J. Crawley, M.T. Lynch, James Cronin, and Michael Donahue, the command were indebted for being able to escape from the Canadian side. Col. H.R. Stagg and Capt. McConvey, of Buffalo, were also very assiduous in doing everything in their power. Col.
"He's going to make sure I stay here," said Frawley to himself, seeing that Greenfield made no attempt to increase the lead. "Well, we'll see." Twelve hours later Greenfield's horse gave out. Frawley uttered a cry of joy, but the handicap of half a day was a serious one; he was exhausted, famished, and in the bag there remained only sufficient water to moisten his lips.
The government lost $350,000. We caught four of the gang, but the ringleader got away with the money. Have you studied it? What did you make of it? Sit down." Frawley took a chair stiffly, hanging his hat between his knees and considering. "It did look like work from the States," he said thoughtfully. "I beg pardon, did you say they'd caught some of the gang?" "Four this morning.
"Don't you want a couple of days to rest up? I can let you have that very easily." "It really makes no difference I think I'll leave to-day, sir." "Oh, a moment more, Inspector " Frawley halted. "How long do you think this ought to take you?" Frawley considered, and answered carefully: "It'll be long, I think. You see, there are several circumstances that are unusual about this case." "How so?"
The months between him and Greenfield shortened to weeks, then to days without troubling his equanimity. At El Paso he arrived a few hours after Greenfield had left, going toward the Salt Basin and the Guadalupe Mountains. Frawley took horses and a guide and followed to the edge of the desert.
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