The
running remarks as the search was made seemed to open Fred's eyes, for
he looked at me with a puzzled air, but I winked and frowned at him,
and he put his face in order.
When the papers were not found on any of us, Camp and Baldwin both
nearly went demented. Baldwin suggested that I had never had the
papers, but Camp argued that Fred or Lord Ralles must have hidden them
in the car, in spite of the fact that the cowboys who had caught them
insisted that they couldn't have had time to hide the papers. Anyway,
they spent an hour in ferreting about in my car, and even searched my
two darkies, on the possibility that the true letters had been passed
on to them.
While they were engaged in this, I was trying to think out some way of
letting Mr. Cullen and Albert know where the letters were. The problem
was to suggest the saddle to them, without letting the cowboys
understand, and by good luck I thought I had the means. Albert had
complained to me the day we had ridden out to the Indian dwellings
at Flagstaff that his saddle fretted some galled spots which he had
chafed on his trip to Moran's Point. Hoping he would "catch on," I
shouted to him--
"How are your sore spots, Albert?"
He looked at me in a puzzled way, and called, "Aw, I don't understand
you."
"Those sore spots you complained about to me the day before
yesterday," I explained.
He didn't seem any the less befogged as he replied, "I had forgotten
all about them."
"I've got a touch of the same trouble," I went on; "and, if I were
you, I'd look into the cause.
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