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Updated: June 27, 2025


He went out to see what had done it. I guess he didn't find it, for he went out several times after that. Oh, I made him dance a merry dance," chuckled Stacy. "By and by I went to sleep. That was the last I knew until I found myself sliding out of the tent on my back." Everyone shouted. Stacy's droll way of telling the story was too much for them. "So that was the way of it, eh?" questioned Ned.

As she left her apartment hurriedly she picked up the little instrument and dropped it into her hand-bag. "You see, it's no use," almost chortled Drummond as Constance stepped off the elevator and opened the door to a little room at Trimble's much like that which she had already seen at Stacy's. "A shoplifter becomes habitual after twenty-five. They get to consorting with others of their kind."

Tad was back by Stacy's side a moment later. He motioned that they were to go back. The boys started briskly for the opening. The instant they had crawled out into the outer chamber they realized that all was not as it should be. At first they did not understand what had occurred. Tad was the first to make the discovery of what had occurred. "We're caught!" he cried. "H -ho -how?"

I should, were I in your place." "Then, I will after breakfast." Ned got busy at once, assisting to cook the morning meal, while Juan led the ponies out to a patch of grass and staked them down. While the Pony Rider cook was thus engaged, he felt a tug at his coat sleeve. Turning sharply, Ned found Stacy at his side. Stacy's face was flushed and his eyes were snapping. "What is it, Chunky?"

A strong southwester was beating against the windows and doors of Stacy's Bank in San Francisco, and spreading a film of rain between the regular splendors of its mahogany counters and sprucely dressed clerks and the usual passing pedestrian.

For Stacy's new banking-house had long since received the epithet of "palatial" from an enthusiastic local press fresh from the "opening" luncheon in its richly decorated directors' rooms, and it was said that once a homely would-be depositor from One Horse Gulch was so cowed by its magnificence that his heart failed him at the last moment, and mumbling an apology to the elegant receiving teller, fled with his greasy chamois pouch of gold-dust to deposit his treasure in the dingy Mint around the corner.

I think I'll tie a string around the necks of the stock and hitch the string to my big-toe to-night. Then I'll know if anybody tries to run off with them." "Run off with your big-toes?" queried Chunky. "No, run off with the ponies, I said I mean the pony and the mules." Stacy's eyes lighted up appreciatively. "I've got a string that you can use," he said. "I'll fix it up for you. Shall I?"

She had stopped at the jewelry counter of Stacy's to have a ring repaired and had gone on to the leather goods department to purchase something else. The woman who spoke to her was a quietly dressed young person, quite inconspicuous, with a keen eye that seemed to take in everything within a radius of a wide-angled lens at a glance.

In his unfailing optimism he translated Stacy's laugh as embarrassment and Demorest's as only ignorance of the real question. But Demorest had noticed, if he had not, that Stacy's laugh was a little nervously prolonged for a man of his temperament, and that he had cast a very keen glance at Barker.

It did more than anything else to put the boys in a better frame of mind unless perhaps it might have been the return of the lost ponies. "I am forced to admit the correctness of Master Stacy's logic," replied the scientist, after their laughter had subsided. "It seems fairly simple to me," spoke up Tad. "The mountains run in a southeasterly direction.

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