By the time one could have counted ten there was not a man of Burk's force in sight, but, on looking down the road where it led to the plain that lay before the mountains, the dust of their retreat hung in the air.

"We've got 'em on ther run," said Bud, throwing his hat into the air with a joyous yawp. "Sufferin' tomcats, but them fellers has their nerve, aber nit."

Ben and the major had carried Ted into the house, and the major, who was a good surgeon, had Ted's coat off and was examining his wound.

When the shot had been fired through the door at him the ball had been deflected by a piece of iron, and, instead of penetrating his heart, as it surely would have done otherwise, it struck a rib and ran around toward the back, coming out near the spine, and, although an extremely painful wound, it was not at all serious.

A ball had passed through the fleshy part of Kit's forearm, but when the major had washed it in warm water and dressed it, it ceased to pain, and he could use it handily. But Ted's wound was different, and the impact of the ball on the rib had made him so sore that he could not breathe without suffering agony.

Stella had one of the boys make a fire for her, and, having found the house well stored with provisions, she began to cook supper for them, for they were all tired and hungry.

It was evening before they knew it, and it was decided to stay at the house all night, keeping a careful guard against the return of Burk and Mowbray.

"I never was so surprised in my life as when I saw Mowbray in the bushes out there just in the act of murdering you," said the major after supper, as he sat on the sofa beside Ted.

"It was a surprising meeting," said Ted. "I had no idea he was in this part of the country. His was the face I saw at the window when we had all that money and gold and jewels out."

"Then he knows we have found it?"

"Sure. He knows we have it, and if he is the chap I think he is, he'll not rest until he gets it, or—something else."

"Meaning?"

"Death or imprisonment."

"He richly deserves either, or both. He made the life of my sister most unpleasant."

"By the way, major, what do you know about him? It might be handy to know something in the future if he tries to make trouble."

"Precious little."

"Oh, by the way, have you looked into that packet I took from the safe and handed you? The one addressed to your father, I take it, or to yourself."

"Haven't thought of it until now. Must take a look at it, by Jove. It may tell us a lot we want to know."

The major pulled the envelope from his pocket, and after examining the writing on it closely for a moment tore off the end of it and drew out several business-like documents.

"You'll excuse me, Strong, while I look these over, won't you?" he said.

"Certainly. Don't mind me," replied Ted, sinking back comfortably among the cushions.

As the major's eyes traveled over the documents they began to light up with a new intelligence. Then a look of pain followed, and the tears ran slowly down his cheeks.

Finally he turned to Ted:

"It is her will, and some history of her adventures in this country since she left home, and an account of the abuse and indignities heaped upon her by her husband, Mowbray, from whom she was divorced some months ago."

"Then Mowbray has no right to her property?"

"Not a penny's worth. I shall not bore you by reading all she says on the subject. She tells how he beat her after stealing from her all he could. Then she goes on to tell of his crimes."

"He is a bad egg, then," said Ted, as the major paused.

"You would scarcely believe how bad he was if I were to read the story of his career."

"I suppose he had been bothering her since in order to get more money from her."

"Yes, she says that he made her life miserable, and that he often threatened to kill her if she didn't give him all she had."

"Hearing of her death, he came here to steal everything he could lay his hands on; is that it? But I don't quite see why the authorities here, knowing of her divorce from him, would permit him to take possession of her effects, from any ownership in which the courts had barred him."

"I don't suppose the people here knew anything about it, for she says in this paper that she got her divorce secretly, and that there was no publicity about it. She simply had her lawyers notify Mowbray to that effect, at which time she sent him ten thousand dollars in settlement of all claims against her, which he agreed to accept with that understanding. But later he wrote her a letter in which he said that the agreement meant nothing to him, and that he would expect more."

"But why didn't she make the fact that he was no longer her husband public? It would have saved this trouble."

"She didn't want the news of it to travel to our parents in England. That was her pride."

"I see. Does she leave him anything in her will?"

"Yes. Her will is a curious document. It was evidently made immediately after her divorce from Mowbray, and leaves all her property to our mother, and, after her death, to my brother and myself, with a small bequest to silence Mowbray. But there is a codicil which leads me to believe that she had heard of mother's death, in which event she leaves almost everything to her brother, Frederic Caruthers. He is the one known as Fancy Farnsworth."

"Nothing to you?"

"Oh, yes, but not so much as to Fred, whom she puts in my care, asking me to see that he is properly treated and that he gets the justice which is his due."

"Evidently she knew, then, that he has many enemies who were trying to put him within the clutches of the law."

"Evidently. But there is a section which I do not understand."

"Read it. Perhaps we can figure it out between us."

"All right, I will. The paragraph is as follows: 'I desire that my elder brother, John Stairs Caruthers, shall take charge of my property in the event that the said Frederic Caruthers shall not be present when my will is opened, and that he shall be found as speedily as possible. For several years Frederic Caruthers has been my only protector, defending me from the abuse and greed of my former husband, and, further, sustaining my credit and honor by assuming the misdeeds of Mowbray, to his own discredit and danger. Had it not been for his watchful care, I would long ago have been stripped of all I have been able to accumulate, and have been in my grave at the hands of Mowbray. But of this latter I am in constant dread, and I feel such will yet be my fate. If my dead body is found with marks of violence on it, and my house robbed, it will have been the work of said Mowbray. Therefore, in the way of a tardy reward for the loyalty, care, protection, and love given me by my brother, Frederic Caruthers, I leave to him the bulk of my property, personal and real, in mining stocks, jewels, money, and the turquoise beds in New Mexico, as well as the San Fernando Ranch. I especially charge my brother John Stairs Caruthers to find his brother, and to defend him and clear his name, should it be necessary, and to put him in full possession of his property.'"

As the major finished reading he looked at Ted inquiringly.

"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked. "I confess it puzzles me."

"I can see through it. But you have your work cut out for you, major."

"In what way?"

"You will find this fellow Mowbray a hard customer."

"Pshaw! I am not afraid of him."

"Neither am I, for that matter; but it is not he alone that is to be feared in this matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Just this: Mowbray evidently is an archvillain, but he could not do all his dirty work alone."

"You think he has accomplices, then?"

"Exactly. And of the most dangerous sort."

"For instance?"

"I have been thinking the matter over, and I am convinced that Mowbray has got about him the most dangerous sort of a gang to carry on his work for him. Do you know if he is a man of any particular force and cleverness?"

"When I knew him, which was before I went to India, he was already beginning to practice his shady transactions in England, but he had never been directly caught at it. This led to the greatest opposition on the part of my family to his marriage to my sister."

"But, in spite of it, she married him?"

"Yes; she had an idea that he was abused and misrepresented, and flew to his defense by secretly marrying him. After that he got worse and bolder until he was caught not only cheating at cards, but actually stealing by means of forgery and in other ways, and they had to flee from England."

"Then, of course, he is a master in crime by this time."

"It would not surprise me to learn it. But you spoke of his being especially dangerous because of the men he had gathered about him?"

"Yes, and I mean it. I am sure now that in his gang are several men who are especially dangerous, because they can defy the law without much risk of running counter to it."

"I don't see how one man can break the law with less danger of punishment than another."

"It is this way: Mowbray has in his gang several deputy United States marshals. These men have advance information of any action to be taken by the law against the suspected perpetrators of crime. This information is at once at the disposal of Mowbray, and he can escape the consequences of his crimes without difficulty. He is protected, also, by his partners rigging up accusations against innocent persons, and convicting them by manufacturing evidence against them."

"What a villainous system!"

"It is. And it is just this thing that has enabled Mowbray to prey on his wife for so long a time."

The major uttered an exclamation of anger.

"Another thing," continued Ted: "I am sure now that it was these very pals of Mowbray that made the accusations against your brother, known as Farnsworth, at the instance of Mowbray. They nursed public resentment against the young fellow until every hand was against him, and he was forced to become an outlaw, or fall into the hands of the authorities and be forced into prison, or to the gallows, through the perjury of these same deputy marshals. It is an infamous thing, and I am going to try to sift it to the bottom and clear your brother, and see that Mowbray gets what's coming to him."

"You are very good, and I shall never forget what you have done for me already."

"That's all right. It's my duty as an officer of the United States in this Territory of Arizona to do it. Never fear; there will be more to this than the beginning, and a race is not won until it is ended."

All night one or the other of the boys patrolled the grounds, hiding in the shrubbery, ready to give the alarm should any of Mowbray's party return to attack the house and capture the treasure.

But dawn broke without an alarm, and the boys were astir, making ready for the abandonment of the house and the return to the Bubbly Well Ranch.

Ted was feeling so much better after a good night's rest that he was able to climb into his saddle and go into the town.

His object was to get a wagon and a span of mules in which to transport the remains of Helen Mowbray and the valuables she had left behind to her brother's house.

At a livery stable he met the proprietor, a garrulous old man, whom, when he had explained his mission, looked at him strangely before speaking.

"What's doin' at the Mowbray house?" he asked. "We all uptown was some curious last evenin' when we heard so much shootin'."

"Nothing much," said Ted. "Just a little pistol practice."

The old man grinned.

"Yuh musta kep' ther targets warm some from ther way ther poppin' sounded up yere," he said dryly.

"Yes, it was rather warm for a while. Well, can I have the wagon, and a driver to bring it back?"

"I don't know whether I can spare one or not. Yuh see, it's some dangerous ter take sides in this town."

"I don't want you to take my side. All I want is to complete a business transaction with you. I want you to hire me a wagon and team for a day. You understand what I want?"

"Yes, but, yuh see, that would be considered as givin' succor ter ther enemy."

"I don't understand why."

"It's this way: Judge Harris owns this stable an' rents it to me by ther month. He could kick me out to-morrow if he wanted to. He's a queer dick, an' him an' Burk, what, I understand, was at ther Mowbray house yesterday, and what had ter run away, is as close as two sheets o' sticky fly paper."

"He is, eh?"

"Yes; an' the coroner, the jailer, the mayor, the sheriff, an' everybody else what has any power er authority, is in the same boat. They all hang together, an' they're all friends o' Mr. Mowbray. Lord Mowbray they calls him."

"Ah, ha!" thought Ted. "If that is the case, it behooves us to get out of town and to Bubbly Well with our property as soon as we can."

After some further talk Ted was still unable to get the old man to rent him a wagon. Then he changed his tactics.

"Well," he said, in a firm voice, "if you won't rent me the wagon and team I'll be obliged to confiscate it for the United States."

"Eh, how is that?"

"I said I would take it for the uses of the United States. Come, roll it out and hitch up before I have to resort to violence."

"I don't know you, bub. I'm from Missouri. You'll have to show me."

Ted exposed his star of authority.

"Does that go?" he asked. "Because if it don't, this will."

His revolver was out of its holster like a flash, much to the surprise of the liveryman, who had been somewhat of a bad man himself in his day, and gun plays were not uncommon at Rodeo.

He gazed mildly into the bore of the big, silver-mounted forty-five, and then murmured:

"It goes, pal."