RUBE CARTER'S THEORY--AND KIDDIE'S
"To begin with, then," said Rube, "Nick Undrell knew about your
valuables--knew that you kept 'em here in your cabin; and he coveted
them. He'd made up his mind weeks ago to get hold of 'em. He admitted
as much to you yourself, an' he put you off suspectin' him by makin'
out that he'd started on a new trail by givin' up drink an' gamblin'
and thievin'. That's where he was artful. Then he knew that you'd
gone away on a campin'-out trip. We've bin told as he's bin spyin'
around here an' tryin' to make friends with the dog.
"Naturally, he didn't know just when we should be back. Anyhow, he
reckoned that last night would be safe, there bein' no moonlight. In
case he should be heard movin' through the bush, he took the loan of
our spare canoe an' dropped along silent by water. I'm figurin' that
he calculated on the dog knowin' him an' not barkin'. But he wanted
ter make sure, an' he crept up towards the kennel.
"Sheila was free; she wasn't chained up or locked in; an' she met him.
Whether she fawned on him or attacked him, an' so got that thread of
yaller wool on her claw don't greatly signify, though I guess she
attacked him, an' he shot her dead, going up to her afterwards t' make
sure, an' leavin' his footprint."
Kiddie nodded in satisfaction at the boy's narrative.
"And then?" he said.
"Then Nick made a bee-line for the cabin, broke the pane of glass,
opened the winder, an' crawled in. Here he collected all the valuables
he c'd lay his hands on--money, trinkets, jewels--hundreds and hundreds
of dollars' worth, an' packed the lot into the gunny sack that he found
in that there corner."
"Ah, I didn't remember that gunny sack," said Kiddie. "I had wondered
how the things were carried away. Well?"
"Well," continued Rube, "after that, he went through the sittin'-room
t' escape by the front door. He looked around the room an' caught
sight of the cigarettes and tobacco. Before decidin' which ter take,
he thought he'd try one of the cigarettes, so he smoked one, leavin'
the scent of it hangin' in the air. 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."
"That's about it," concluded Rube.
"My theory exactly," declared the sheriff, "an' now I calculate the
first thing t' do is ter get on Nick's tracks an' arrest him."
"Wait," said Kiddie. "There's one thing that Rube has not explained.
What about the canoe? We found it tied up in Grizzly Notch. How did
it get back there?"
"Ar-rum!" ejaculated Rube. "I forgot the canoe; but I suppose Nick
took it back an' tied it up 'fore he went to the stable."
"Not at all," said Kiddie. "Your theory is wrong from beginnin' to
end. The canoe was never used. The paddles were in the boat-house as
dry as a bone. The tobacco pipe, the dead matches and the footprint
were planted there purposely as a blind to put us on a false trail. 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.
"You say you didn't touch the dead dog," pursued Kiddie, "didn't look
into her eyes an' see how the pupils were dilated; didn't handle her
limbs an' feel how rigid they were. You've seen many an animal killed
with a bullet, Rube, but you never saw one lookin' as Sheila looks.
Why? Because she wasn't shot. It was poison that killed her--a quick
an' deadly poison, injected on the point of a dart, a spear, or,
perhaps even an arrow. And the bootprint was made purposely by the man
who went up to her to recover the weapon and to fix the thread of
yellow worsted to her claw, just as he afterwards fixed the thread on
the splinter of window glass, as an intentionally misleading clue. As
to the cigarettes and tobacco, there need have been no hesitation. The
cigarettes were taken in preference by a man who never smokes a pipe,
but is peculiarly fond of cigarettes."
"Gee!" cried Rube. "You are clever, Kiddie."
Kiddie had disappeared into his bedroom. When he came out again some
minutes afterwards, he was dressed as a western cowboy.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Rube. "Where're you off to?"
"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. He dropped the bridle over his pony's
head, leapt from his saddle, gathered the coils of his lariat in his
fist, and crept to the side of the trail. The galloping horse came
swiftly nearer. Kiddie peeped out over the edge of a boulder and
recognized his own bay hunter Regent.
The rider's face was hidden under his wide hat, but as he raised his
whip hand there was the gleam of a yellow and black striped vest.
Kiddie gripped his lariat ready to throw, but he did not throw it.
Instead, he whistled loud and shrill, and, as the horseman came abreast
of him, he called out--
"Nick--Nick!"
Nick Undrell drew rein, and, swinging sharply round, rode up to Kiddie.
"The very man I wanted to see," said Kiddie, dropping his lariat, and
seizing the hunter's palpitating muzzle in his hands. "Where is he,
Nick?"
"He?" echoed Nick Undrell, with a laugh. "Well, if your lordship's
referrin' ter Broken Feather, he's a prisoner in my shack, wearin'
handcuffs an' a pair of my boots, an' with two o' my boys standin' over
him with loaded revolvers. An' the boodle--the loot--the swag that the
greasy skunk stole from your cabin last night, it's all fixed up right
an' tight in Laramie Bank."