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Updated: June 22, 2025
Lee slept round the clock almost twice and appeared for a late breakfast. Her aunt told her some news with which Live-Oaks was buzzing. Go-Get-'Em Jim had ridden into town, stopped at the sheriff's office, and demanded cynically the thousand dollars offered by the Webb estate for his arrest. "He'll come to no good end," prophesied Miss Snaith, senior.
"What he did, I gather." "Precisely." "And Anisty?" "Once loosed, he knocked Higgins over with the butt of a revolver, jumped out of the window, and vanished. By the time the butler got his senses back, Anisty, presumably, was miles away ... Mr. Maitland!" said Snaith sharply. "Yes?" responded Maitland, elevating his brows, refusing to be startled.
At the top of the rim he rose and came face to face with another man. "A good deal like frozen hell, Billie," the other said casually. "Where did you come from?" demanded the sheriff, amazed. Jim Clanton laughed grimly. "I've been with yore party half an hour. Why shouldn't I be here when Lee Snaith is lost?" "You were hiding in Live-Oaks?" "Mebbeso. Anyway, I'm here.
"What do you want us for?" asked Prince. "You know well enough what for. You killed one of my punchers." Clanton groaned. "Only one?" "An' another may die any day. Come out with yore hands up." "We'd rather stay here, thank you," Billie called back. Snaith leaned forward in the saddle. "Is that you over there, Lee?" "Yes, dad."
Wallace Snaith gathered his forces and retreated from the field of battle. A man on a spent horse met him at his own gate as he dismounted. He handed the cattleman a note. On the sheet of dirty paper was written: The birds you want are nesting in a dugout on the river four miles below town. You got to hurry or they'll be flown. Snaith read the note, tore it in half, and tossed the pieces away.
Mysterious Pete knew that if this were true, his race was run. "Goddlemighty, Miss Snaith! I swear I thought it was Clanton. He was drawing a gun on me." Lee drew the boy to her bosom so that her body was between the killer and his victim. A swift, up-blazing, maternal fury seemed to leap from her face. "Don't come any nearer! Don't you dare!" she cried. The man's covert glance swept round.
However that was, there was no denying that he had trailed the treasure to its hiding-place, unerringly; and succeeded in taking possession of it with consummate skill and audacity. When Maitland came to think of it, he recalled distinctly the trend of the burglar's inquisition in the character of "Mr. Snaith," which had all been calculated to discover the location of the jewels.
If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie. "Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self." "You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly. The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little.
Snaith smiled mysteriously, then fell thoughtful, pondering. "You are an enigma," he said, at length. "I can not understand why you refuse us all information, when I consider that the jewels were yours " "Are mine," Maitland corrected. "No longer." "I beg your pardon; I have them." Snaith shook his head, smiling incredulously.
Some of the supply merchants had several thousand of these articles de luxe in their stock. In later years they gave them away to Indians and Mexicans. "Do you know where Jack Goodheart is?" asked Lee of the nearest youth. "No, ma'am, but I'll go hunt him for you," answered the puncher promptly. "Thank you." Ten minutes later a bronzed rider swung down in front of the Snaith home.
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