"I hadn't heard it. Then that puts it up to Creviss."
"But who is the fellow who runs the show? Ben says his name is Colonel Ben Robinson, and that he is an old circusman down on his luck temporarily."
"Look around and find out what you can. They will not suspect you if you ask questions as they would me. If you find out anything, let me know."
"All right, Ted, I'll circulate, and report."
Ted wandered over to the show tents, and entered them all, with kindly greetings to the performers, who all knew him as the leader of the broncho boys, and asked him if they could be excused from performing while the riding and other cowboy stunts were going forward, and Ted told them to lay off if they wanted to, as most of the guests would be out in the grand stand, anyhow.
In the last tent he entered he found the strong man lifting weights against a lot of husky cow-punchers, and the giant and midget.
But it was the midget that struck him most forcibly. He had a sly, cunning face and a bad eye, and when Ted came in he tried to hide behind the giant, who picked him up as one would a baby in arms. But the little fellow wriggled free and climbed down the big man like a monkey down a tree. Then he slipped across to the middle of the tent and shinned up the pole to the top, and hung there, looking down at Ted.
"What's the matter with the little fellow?" Ted asked the giant.
"Oh, he ain't got real good sense," rumbled the giant. "His brain stopped growing with his body, I reckon. But you can teach him tricks the same as you can a dog or a monkey, and he'll do them all right. I reckon he's afraid of you. He is of some people, the boss in particular."
"How long have you been with the boss?"
"Not very long. He just took the show over from the old boss a month ago. We were going to pieces over to Cheyenne, and he come along and bought us. He's been a showman in his time, but says he hasn't been in the biz for several years. He knows the biz, though, and has scads of money. We are well fed and get our salaries regular. Him and Prince Carl, that's the midget, are great pals. The midget sleeps in his tent, and the boss seldom lets him out of his sight."
"Say, Bellows, how many times have I got to tell you not to stand there gassing with patrons of the show? Every one don't want to bother with your theories and troubles." Ted turned, to face the boss showman.
"Oh, it's you, Mr. Strong?" he went on. "I didn't recognize your back. It's all right to talk to you. But I've got to call the giant down once in so often for taking up people's time, for he's an awful gabber."
He walked away, but when Ted tried to get the giant to tell him some more about the midget and the boss, he would not say a word.
But the giant had planted the seed of a theory in Ted's mind.
Presently Ted saw Stella beckoning to him in the crowd, and forced his way to her side.
She took his arm, and they got out of the crowd. Ted saw that she had something to communicate.
"Well?" he said, smiling down on her.
"There's going to be something doing here," said she. "The boss showman has been talking with several of the gang."
"All right. Did you hear anything about Skip Riley?"
"Yes. He's been gone from Strongburg about a month."
"Learn anything else about him?"
"Skip Riley is not his name at all."
"That so? What is it? Did you learn?"
"I was talking to a lady from Strongburg, one of those who got him a job on the fire department."
"What did she know about him?"
"She said that she was appointed a committee of one by the Ladies' Aid Society over there to look up the new fireman's career."
"And I suppose she ran onto some hot stuff?"
"It seems that the ex-convict, Skip Riley, had been a circus performer once upon a time, before he took to being a burglar."
"Was burglary the crime for which he was put in prison?"
"Yes, so she says. He was an aëronaut and acrobat."
"Good! And what was his stage name? Did she say?"
"Robinson—Ben Robinson. She says that she was told that he was quite famous in his day as a circus performer, but that he couldn't resist the temptation to steal, and so had to quit the business, as none of the circus proprietors would have him around."
"Did she say where she got this information?"
"Yes. It was sent to her by the warden of the penitentiary in which Riley was confined before he came to Strongburg."
"Then her information is probably correct. Stella, thanks to you, we've got them dead to rights. We've solved the mystery hanging around all these recent robberies."
"Nearly, but not quite. How were they accomplished?"
"That I don't know positively, but I have a theory which I believe will turn out to be correct."
"But about Riley?"
"Ben Robinson, the proprietor of this show, and Skip Riley, burglar and ex-convict, are one and the same man."
CHAPTER XII.
ALOFT AFTER A PRISONER.
"All ready for the big show," cried Kit, riding up to Ted. "When will we begin the sports?"
Ted looked over the grand stand, which was built around an arena in which the cowboy sports were to come off.
This was the most important event of the day, for while bronchobusting and cattle roping are a cowboy's business, yet he finds unending amusement in doing these same things if his girl and friends are there to witness his skill.
After some ordinary feats of trick riding by the visiting cowboys, several really dangerous steers were turned loose in the arena, and for several minutes a very fair imitation of a Spanish bullfight, minus the killing of the animals, took place.
After several of the steers had been roped, thrown, and tied, there still remained in the arena a sullen and difficult brute, which was as tricky as a rat, and the boys gave him up one at a time.
"Why don't you give the girls a chance at him?" shouted a cowgirl derisively, from the seats.
"Any girl who wants to tackle him is at liberty to do so," Ted shouted back through his megaphone.
Instantly three girls leaped into the arena, and borrowed ponies from their cowboy acquaintances.
Ted motioned to Sophy Cozak, the pretty and buxom girl from the Bohemian prairie, whom Bud had admired at the dance; she rode forward on Bud's own particular horse, Ranger.
Sophy had several brothers who had taught her the cow business, and she had few equals on the range.
As she rode out she was greeted with a round of applause from her admirers. She gathered up her rope and sent the horse forward at an easy lope toward the steer, which looked at her a moment and trotted off.
Sophy followed him, and made three casts of the rope, and every time the brute dodged it, and the rope fell to the ground.
That settled it with Sophy, and she rode in, and another girl took her place. She, too, was unsuccessful, as was the third, and the audience was distinctly disappointed.
"Ladies and gentlemen," cried Ted, through the megaphone. "It was not the intention of any one living on the Moon Valley Ranch to take part in these contests, but if there are no other young ladies in the grand stand who would like to try their ropes on the steer, we can produce one whom we think can rope and tie it at the first trial. I refer to Miss Stella Fosdick. I have not consulted her wishes in the matter, but will ask her if she will undertake it."
At this a wild cheer went up, and Ted dashed out of the arena to find Stella. In a moment he was back, and announced that Miss Fosdick would try it.
Presently Stella rode in on Custer at a hard gallop, gathering up her rope as she rode. There was a sort of gay self-confidence in her manner that captivated the throng, and the cheers split the air.
Stella rode straight at the steer, which, seeing her approach; galloped down the arena with her in pursuit.
Swinging her rope above her head, she chased it back until it was about in the middle of the field, and suddenly the rope left her hand unerringly and shot through the air, seemed
to hesitate for an instant, then fell over the steer's head.
Custer came to a stop the moment the rope left her hand, with his body well braced. The steer went to the end of the rope as fast as it could go, then was flung in the air, and lay upon his back sprawling like some ridiculous four-legged crab, while the girl leaped from her saddle, ran swiftly across the intervening space, tied his legs together, and held up her hand.
The crowd fairly went wild with enthusiasm at her feat, as she mounted again, leaving the steer to the tender mercies of the cow-punchers, who flocked about her. Then she dashed out of the arena, waving her hat in recognition of the applause.
Then the bunch of wild Montana horses, which never had felt the saddle, were driven in, and Ted offered a twenty-dollar gold piece to any puncher who could rope, saddle, and bridle, and ride one of the bronchos ten minutes without being thrown.
"Easy money!" shouted the cowboys, flocking into the arena.
The black, which had caused Ted so much trouble when the bunch first came to the ranch, was not with them. He was considered too dangerous an animal to be handled at an entertainment where there were so many women and children.
Only two cow-punchers succeeded in even getting their saddles on the bronchos without throwing them and hog-tying them, and only one, Billy Sudden, stayed the required ten minutes, and he said afterward that it wasn't his fault, because the broncho wouldn't let him get off.
Ted then announced that there was another animal in the herd that he would ask no man to ride, but that he would try to do so himself.
Another great cheer went up as Ted rode away after the black demon, to whom the boys had given the name Lucifer, for his supposed resemblance to his satanic majesty.
But it was found impossible to drive Lucifer into the arena.
"Never mind," said Ted, "we'll throw the saddle on him here, and I'll ride him in."
A crowd of men and boys was standing around, and Ted removed his saddle and handed it to a young fellow in the crowd to hold until he had thrown Lucifer. The animal was standing in the center of the circle, his wary eyes taking in the crowd, and letting fly with his heels at the approach of any one.
"Now, Bud," called Ted, "ride in on him and rope him. You, Kit, get him by the leg and throw him, and I'll slip a bridle on him."
It was not much of a trick to rope and hold him so that he couldn't kick. But when Ted tried to slip the bit between his teeth, he fought like the demon that he was, biting and kicking, so that he had to be thrown to his side and his head held down before the bridle could be put on him.
Then he was allowed to rise. There was no doubt but that the horse was insane with rage and fear, and several cowmen came forward and tried to persuade Ted from attempting to ride him, but Ted was as obstinate as the horse, and said that he would conquer the black, or die in the attempt.
He finally found the fellow who had been holding his saddle, although he had left his stand and was found back behind the crowd talking to a gang of young fellows, among whom Ted recognized several of Creviss' companions. This delayed and angered him, and he called the saddle bearer down for deserting his post, and was answered with sneers and laughter.
After many trials, and the exertion of a great deal of patience, Ted got the saddle on Lucifer and hastily cinched, and as he sprang to the brute's back the ropes were loosed. With a bound and a snort of terror the black dashed forward, and it was with the greatest difficulty that Ted swung it so it went through the gates and into the arena without dashing him against the posts.
Once inside the arena, the brute began to exhibit terrible ferocity.
Stella and Bud had followed in his wake, and when the girl saw how the brute was behaving, she whispered to Bud:
"That demon will kill him yet."
"If he don't kill it," answered Bud.
"Why did you let him ride it? I got there a moment too late, and he was already in the saddle, or I should have stopped it."
"What could I do? He had told the people he would ride it, and that settled it with him."
Lucifer was exercising all the tricks known to wild and terrified bronchos when they first feel saddle and bridle, and which seem to be inbred in them. He bucked, but there was never a horse that could buck Ted off. He reared, he kicked, rolled, and fell backward. But every time he stopped for a moment to note the result, there the unshakable enemy was on his back again. Clearly he was puzzled.
Then a new paroxysm of rage would shake him, and he would go through the same performances again, but with no better success.
Suddenly Ted brought his quirt down on the brute's flanks, and it leaped high into the air in an agony of fear and pain. It had felt that stinging thing before, and hated it.
Then it started to run away from this terrible thing that bestrode its back.
"By Heaven! it's running away," muttered Bud. "It'll be an act o' Providence if Ted isn't killed."
Down the arena they dashed, Ted sitting in the saddle as if he and it and the stallion were all of a piece.
When the brute came to the arena's end, and saw before him the shouting multitude, it suddenly swerved to come back, and Ted realized that something had happened to the saddle. It was slipping, and yet he was sure he had cinched it tight. Back they came tearing again, and passed Stella and Bud like a rocket.
"Great guns!" cried Bud, "his saddle's loose. He's a goner now, shore."
Every one saw Ted's danger, for Ted was leaning well over, and the saddle was on the horse's side. A hollow groan went up.
At Bud's first words Stella was off after Ted like a shot.
The horse, as every one could now see, was trying its best to kill Ted, and many of the spectators were positive that it would do so.
Now the cinch had parted.
"The cinch has broken," the shout went up. "It will kill him, sure!" Ted was now leaning far over on the horse's side, his left leg well under the horse's belly and his foot in the stirrup, while the heel of his left, boot was clinging to the edge of the tipped saddle. It was a most precarious position, for if the saddle slipped farther he would go under and be trampled and kicked to death before any one could reach him.
The powerful brute was bent on Ted's destruction, and seemed about to accomplish it, when Stella galloped to his side, and, grasping his hand, held him safe.
"The cinch is off," she called to him. "I'll help you up, then kick the saddle loose."
Slowly but surely Ted worked himself up until he could release his foot from the stirrup. Then, with a sudden wrench that almost pulled Stella to the ground, he was again on top. With a kick he sent the saddle to the ground, and was riding bareback, while the brute stumbled and almost went to his knees as the saddle fell between his legs.
But now Ted took charge of the situation. With quirt and spur he drove the beast here and there, punishing it, giving it no rest, allowing it to do nothing in its own way until it staggered and heaved and swayed with fatigue and lack of breath, and yet he urged it.
"He'll kill that horse yet," said Billy Sudden.
"No, he knows what that horse will stand, and he's going to make him stand it," said Bud.
The people had never seen such riding as this, and when they realized that Ted had conquered the stallion and was now rubbing it in, they shouted until their throats cracked.
At last the horse could go no farther, and Ted let it stop, as he slipped to the ground and gave the brute a slap with his hand.
"I reckon you'll know better next time, old fellow," was all he said, and walked to where his saddle was lying.
As he picked it up, he was seen to stop and look at the cinch carefully, then hurry to where the boys were awaiting him.
"Fellows," he said solemnly, throwing the saddle on the ground, "that cinch did not break, it was cut."
A dozen of the boys leaped to the ground and examined the cinch.
It was true. The cinch had been cut almost through with a sharp knife, and the strain upon it had parted it. There coul
d be no doubt as to what had been intended.
As Stella came riding up, she shouted:
"The cinch was cut. I saw it. Wiley Creviss did it. I didn't realize at the time what he was doing or know that it was Ted's saddle, and when I did find out, he was mounted and away."
A howl of indignation went up at this.
"Scatter out, boys, and round up Creviss," shouted Billy Sudden. "We know what to do with him when he's caught."
Ted's adventure with Lucifer ended the performances in the arena, and, as the balloon was inflated and ready to ascend, the people flocked to where it was straining at the ropes.
Ted had mounted Sultan again, and left the arena surrounded by Stella and the boys.
"Who's going up in her?" asked Ted.
"Ben Robinson, the boss," answered Ben.
"Do you know who he is?" asked Ted.
Ben stared at him without replying.
"I'll tell you," said Ted. "He's Skip Riley, thief and ex-convict, the leader of the Flying Demons. He is the man who caused us to lose our money last night, and who engineered all the mysterious robberies hereabouts. Do you reckon he intends to come back?"
Ben's eyes started from their sockets in surprise.
"I—I don't know," he stammered. "By Jove! we must stop him. Maybe he's going to skip."
The boys had crowded about Ted as he spoke.
"We'll have to hurry if we get him," shouted Ben. "He's in the basket now."
With shouts of warning Ted and the boys pushed their horses through the crowd, which rushed aside to let them through.
They could see Skip Riley lift a large tin box into the basket from the ground. As he was getting ready to start there was a shrill cry, and the midget came waddling through the crowd and climbed over the side of the car and up Riley's body until it clung to his shoulder like a monkey. A great many of the thoughtless laughed at this. They did not understand the significance of the move.
"Get ready to cut her loose," shouted Riley.
Two or three men stood by with sharp knives in their hands.
Riley saw Ted and the boys pushing rapidly through the crowd.
"Cut her loose!" shouted Riley, and the balloon shot upward, amid the shouts of the people.
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