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"Along to Laramie ter locate Nick Undrell," drawled Kiddie, fixing his six-shooter in his belt. He hastened out to the stables, saddled and mounted a pony, and started off through the woodland towards the trail. Hardly had he got out from among the trees when he heard the clattering of a horse's galloping feet.
"All that's as plain as sunlight," said Rube. "But look at that sharp point of glass. Thar's a thread of wool caught on it yellow wool." "Ah!" exclaimed Isa Blagg. "Nick Undrell for a certainty!" "That's how I figure it out," Rube agreed. "Queer!" mused Kiddie, thrusting a finger and thumb into one of his smaller pockets.
By the sound of its feet we c'd tell it was no or'nary prairie cayuse, an' soon, sure enough, Broken Feather came inter view, with the goods in a gunny sack slung over his shoulder. Before he guessed we were there before he c'd whip out his gun we'd dropped on him." "Ah," said Sheriff Blagg, stroking his chin. "I allow you did that business with considerable credit, Nick Undrell.
If Laramie Plain is what it used to be, there's Indians and road agents hanging around who wouldn't think twice about helping themselves if the outfit isn't well protected." "Best be on the safe side, anyhow," cautioned Gideon. "And so," continued Kiddie, "I'm going to see Nick Undrell and get him to undertake the job." "What?" cried Isa Blagg. "Nick Undrell? Gee!
I reckon he enjoyed it, so he took the cigarettes an' left the pipe tobacco." "They are very good cigarettes, I believe," commented Kiddie. "I've never smoked one myself." "Still, I wonder at Nick Undrell leavin' all that tobacco on the shelf," put in Isa Blagg. "What d'you figure he did next, Rube? Went around to the stables, helped himself t' the best hoss thar, an' rode off, I should say."
"And yet you imagine that Nick Undrell knew how to use it, or get hold of a dose of it, even if he knew! Why, I don't figure that Nick ever heard the name of the stuff not havin' been in hospital, like Sanson T. Wrangler. If you ask me, Isa, I don't believe there was any chloroform within a day's ride of Laramie on Sunday evening. Just put your wits to work, my friend.
I don't deny that the pipe was Nick Undrell's, or the boots, or that the threads of yellow worsted came from Nick's vest. But in spite of these clues, yes, even because of them, I believe that Nick Undrell had nothing to do with this robbery." "Git!" exclaimed Isa Blagg, with a derisive laugh. "S-shoo!" whispered Rube in amazement.
He reached round to his desk and laid a tobacco pipe on the table in front of Nick Undrell. "Is that yours?" he asked. "Yes," said Nick, taking it up and turning it in his fingers, "it's sure mine. Where'd you pick it up? Last time I see it 'twas on the shelf at home in my shack. Been lying thar for months. Too good ter throw away, not good enough ter smoke. How in thunder did it get here?"
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