Yet to suppose--which seemed the only other horn to the dilemma--that
the son and guests of the vice-president of the Missouri Western, and
one of our own directors, would be concerned in train-robbery was to
believe something equally improbable. Indeed, I should have put the
whole thing down as a practical joke of Mr. Cullen's party, if it had
not been for the loss of the registered letters.
Even a practical joker would hardly care to go to the length of
cutting open government mail-pouches; for Uncle Sam doesn't approve of
such conduct.
Whatever the explanation, I had enough facts to prevent me from
wasting more time on that alkali plain. Getting the men and horses
back onto the cars, I jumped up on the tailboard and ordered the
runner to pull out for Flagstaff. It was a run of seven hours, getting
us in a little after eight, and in those hours I had done a lot of
thinking which had all come to one result--that Mr. Cullen's party was
concerned in the hold-up.
The two private cars were on a siding, but the Cullens had left for
the Grand Canon the moment they had arrived, and were about reaching
there by this time. I went to 218 and questioned the cook and waiter,
but they had either seen nothing or else had been primed, for not
a fact did I get from them. Going to my own car, I ordered a quick
supper, and while I was eating it I questioned my boy. He told me that
he had heard the shots, and had bolted the front door of my car, as I
had ordered when I went out; that as he turned to go to a safer place,
he had seen a man, revolver in hand, climb over the off-side gate of
Mr.
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