"How come yuh ter kill that man in ther next room?"
"I didn't kill him."
"That's a likely story. I find yuh alone in ther house with him. Yuh'll hev ter answer ter ther magistrate fer this."
"See here, my friend, how could I have killed that man, then come in here, and locked and barred the door on the outside?"
"He's got yuh there, Si," said one of the men.
"Look here," said Ted, showing his star. "I'm an officer of the law. The fellows who captured and brought me here were robbers, and I was on their trail. That's all there is to it. Now, let me pass. I want to see what is in the next room."
CHAPTER XVIII.
STELLA ADOPTS A BROTHER.
Taking up a lantern, Ted entered the room. Beside the overturned table lay the body of a man. It was not Checkers. There was nothing in the room except the table, two chairs, a broken lamp, which lay in a pool of kerosene on the floor, and the body of the murdered man.
Wait, what was this?
Beneath the table was a scrap of green.
It was a bank bill, and, drawing it forth, Ted found it to be a fifty-dollar note issue'd by the First National Bank of Green River, Nebraska. A valuable clew, this.
When he had searched the body of the dead man, and found several letters and a small memorandum book, he left the room and locked it.
"Notify the coroner," said he to the constable, "and give him this key. If he wants me as a witness in his inquest, he will find me at the Stratford Hotel, in St. Louis."
The constable promised to carry out Ted's instructions.
"Where is that boy Scrub?" asked Ted.
"Here I am," said the boy, emerging from the crowd.
"Who knows anything about this boy?" Ted asked.
"He's just a loose kid," said the constable. "His father died when he was young, and his mother left him a few years ago. Since then no one has claimed him."
"Then I will. Do you want to come with me?" Ted asked the boy. "I will give you a good home and clothes, teach you something, and make a useful man of you. Is he a good boy?"
Ted turned to the men about him.
"Yes, Scrub is a good boy, only he never ain't had no chance," seemed to be the universal verdict.
"Say the word, Scrub. Do you want to come with me?"
"You bet," said Scrub fervently.
"Good! Come along! We'll be getting back to St. Louis."
"But yuh can't get back to-night. The last train has gone."
"Never mind. I'll get there somehow. Some one lend me a lantern for a few minutes."
Ted was given one, and he went out into the yard and outhouses to search for the red motor car. He could not find it anywhere.
"Did any of you folks see a red automobile going down the road any time to-day?" he asked.
"Yes, there's a red machine down in the lane running over to the Rock Road," said one of the men. "But I reckon it's bust."
"Come on, Scrub, we'll take a look at it," said Ted, Leading off with the man who had seen the car, and followed by the whole crowd, Ted made his way to the lane.
Standing in the middle of it was the red car with its No. 118 swaying from the rear axle in the wind.
Evidently Checkers had started away in it, using it as a swift means of escape, but it had stopped, and, as he could go no farther in it, he had abandoned it in the road.
Ted examined the machinery carefully, but could find nothing wrong with it until he discovered that it had exhausted its supply of gasoline.
But he learned that the grocer at the village, half a mile away, had gasoline for sale, and two young fellows volunteered to go after some while Ted overhauled the car.
In half an hour he was ready to start. He made Scrub get into the seat, and, shaking hands with the constable and shouting a merry good-by to the others, he started for St. Louis.
It was past midnight when he drew up in front of the Stratford Hotel, hungry and tired. Scrub was fast asleep, and, taking him in his arms, Ted entered the hotel.
As he stepped inside, the clerk stared at him as if he had seen a ghost.
"How's everything?" asked Ted of the clerk.
"Great Scott, where did you come from?" asked, the clerk, and added hastily: "Better hurry upstairs to your room. Everybody is crazy about your disappearance."
Ted went up in the elevator with the boy still sleeping in his arms. There was a light in his room and a confused murmur of voices.
Without the formality of a knock he opened the door and entered. As he appeared in the doorway there was silence for a moment, then such a bedlam of shouts and laughter burst forth that every one on the floor was aroused.
"It's Ted! It's Ted!" they shouted, and crowded around him.
The place was full of them. Across the room he saw the shining face of Stella, smiling a welcome at him. Ben and Kit, Carl, Clay, and all of them were there, and sitting at the table was the chief of detectives.
"Hello! Holding a post-mortem over me?" asked Ted.
"It comes pretty near that," said Bud. "Dog-gone you, what do you mean by goin' erway an' hidin' out on us that way? What in ther name o' Sam Hill an' Billy Patterson hev yer picked up now?" Bud was looking curiously at the bundle of rags in Ted's arms, for the boy still slept.
"This is a new pard," said Ted. "If it hadn't been for this kid you'd probably never seen me again."
"Erlucerdate," demanded Bud.
"Not until some one goes out to the nearest restaurant and orders up a stack of grub for Scrub and me. I haven't had anything to eat or drink for thirty-six hours, and I'm almost all in, and this kid has been living on apples and water for a couple of weeks. Now, hustle somebody and let me put this kid on the bed—-my back's nearly broke—or maybe it's my stomach, they're so close together now I can't tell which it is that hurts."
While Ted was laying the boy on the bed he woke up, and, finding himself in a strange place, and a finer room than he had ever been in before, surrounded by a lot of rather boisterous young men, he leaped to the floor and started to the door. But Ted caught him by the arm and drew him back.
"What's the matter with you, you young savage?" said Ted.
"Oh, I'm all right now," said the boy. "When I woke up I got rattled, I guess, but as long as you're here it's all right."
The food came up now borne by two waiters and piloted by Kit. There were oysters and steak and potatoes and biscuit and a lot of what Missouri folk call "fixin's," and a big pot of coffee.
Scrub's eyes stood out like doorknobs as he viewed this wonderful array of things to eat. The table was cleared, the waiters set out the food, and the boys stood back to give Ted and the boy "room to swell," as Bud expressed it. The way they tucked into the good things was a caution.
After their hunger was satisfied and the waiters had restored order to the table, Ted began the story of his adventures since he had let Bud out of the automobile. As he talked, Stella wooed the small boy to her side, and listened to the story with her arm around his shoulder, and long before it was done Scrub was her worshiper forever.
Chief Desmond listened with close attention, and when Ted finished and exhibited the bill of the Green River Bank, which he examined carefully, he said:
"Mr. Strong, you've beaten us all to it. I will go out to-morrow—I mean to-day, for it's one o'clock now—and view the body myself. If it is, as seems almost certain to be, Dude Wilcox, one of the most dangerous men in the West is gone, but he has left behind for us to fight, and you to find, the man Checkers. This bill is your clew to the gang, but it is a counterfeit. As I have the thing figured out, the gang knew that forty thousand dollars was going to be shipped, but for some reason or other they dared not hold up the train out there, and telegraphed the gang in St. Louis to get it. Dude was at the head of the bunch here, and as it was a one-man game so near to St. Louis, Dude was elected to pull it off, which he did to the queen's taste. Perhaps the bill you have is the only counterfeit in the lot. Perhaps not. That is for you to work out
."
"But how he managed to get away with the swag I haven't managed to figure out yet," said Ted.
"Of course, I don't know either, but deducing facts from what I know of the gang's methods, and from long experience with gentlemen of the road, I would say that the members of the gang who were killed in their rendezvous in Pine Street by my unfortunate men were awaiting the arrival of Dude with the swag. Checkers had secret knowledge that you had been put on their trail, and when he saw you pick up that red car in East St. Louis he was sure that you knew about the robbery and that you were on to Dude."
"That's likely," said Ted. "I hadn't thought of that."
"Well, he got into communication with Dude, and warned him against coming to the Pine Street place. You see, they had another rendezvous out in the country, a haunted house, the reputation of which would keep prying country boys away from it."
"Best sort of a place for a criminal hangout," said Ted.
"You're right, and now that you have discovered it, I'll take pains to see that it's never used for such again. But, as I was going to say, Dude's intention was to get out of town, return, go to the Pine Street room, divide the swag, and skip. He probably left the train at Somerset, or some other little town down the line, hid in the cornfields until dusk, stole a horse and buggy, and drove across the country to the haunted house, and later was joined by Checkers, who had been trailing you, and later succeeded in getting you. Had it not been for the quarrel between Dude and Checkers, it is more than likely that you would have been murdered by Checkers. But one murder was enough for his nerve, and, forgetting you, he vamosed."
The detective arose to take his departure, again congratulating Ted on the outcome of his adventure.
"Keep your eye peeled for Checkers, and if you do run across him, have your gun at half cock," he said, and, bidding good night to all, went away.
"And now, good fellows, all to bed," said Ted. "To-morrow we start for the West, and the capture of the head men of the train-robber syndicate, and the extermination of the business."
In the morning, before the others were up, Ted made Scrub take a bath, and then they sallied forth to a clothing store. When they came out, instead of the ragged and dirty little boy, there walked proudly by Ted's side a fine, clean, fresh-looking lad in a well-fitting serge suit, and other appointments that transformed him completely.
When they arrived at the hotel the boys professed not to know Scrub.
"Hello, picked up another kid?" asked Bud. "I swow, yer allers goin' round pickin' up mavericks. I reckon yer aim ter brand this one as well ez ther one yer brought in last night."
"Why, here's another kid," said Ben, looking over Scrub's new outfit with interest. "He don't look much like the one you brought in last night. I reckon that one has run away, I don't see him anywhere."
Poor Scrub was standing first on one foot and then on the other, fairly squirming with embarrassment.
Ted gave the boys the nod to cease teasing the boy.
"Don't mind those fellows, they're only joshing," said Ted.
"Oh, I don't mind it if they can get any fun out of it," said Scrub, with a smile. "Maybe, some day I can get back at them, when I know them better."
Stella came down in the elevator at that moment, and, catching sight of Scrub, gave a little scream of astonishment at his altered appearance.
"Goodness, what a fine-looking addition to the family!" she said, shaking hands with the boy, who blushed and looked pleased. "I don't like the name Scrub a bit. I'm going to change his name."
"This isn't leap year, Stella," said Ben.
"You hush! What name would you rather have than Scrub? That's no name for a broncho boy," she said to the boy.
"I don't know," answered the boy. "What name do you like?"
"I think she likes Ben better than any," said Ben, posing in a very handsome manner.
"Don't listen to him, he's always teasing. You want something short and easy to say."
"What's the matter with 'Say'?" said Ben. "That's always easy to remember. I notice that when a man wants to call another on the street he just hollers 'Say,' and half a dozen fellows turn around."
"Then that makes it too common," decided Stella. "What name would you suggest, Ted? He's got to have two names."
"Let us get one of the newspapers to start a voting contest on it."
"Ben, if you don't stop your foolishness, I won't play," said Stella.
"You name him, Stella," said Ted. "Anything you say goes."
"Then we'll call him Dick, after my father," said Stella. "He never had a boy, and always wanted one. I'm going to adopt this boy as a brother. His name shall be Dick Fosdick. That sounds funny, doesn't it, but I didn't do it on purpose."
There was a tear in her eye at the thought of her father, and the boys looked rather solemn, for while they hoped for the best, they didn't as yet know the lad, and perhaps they had saddled themselves with a future regret, but Stella trusted and believed in the little chap, who was very proud that at last he had thrown off and buried forever the name of Scrub.
That evening they took the train for the West, their destination being Green River.
The automobile Ted sent on by express that he might have it not only for use, for he was becoming attached to it, but as a clew to the detection of the express robbers.
CHAPTER XIX.
EZRA, THE LIFE-SAVING GOAT.
Ted had engaged several sections on the through sleeping car to North Platte, Nebraska, the old home of Colonel William Cody, known all over the world as "Buffalo Bill."
But they were to leave the train at Green River, ostensibly to buy cattle for their ranch. This, of course, was to avert suspicion from their real purpose of hunting down the express robbers.
For Mrs. Graham and Stella the stateroom of the car Orizaba had been engaged, and the boys made it a sort of ceremonial chamber.
The car was well filled with other passengers, many of them tourists on the way to Colorado or the Pacific coast, and they were much amused at the free-and-easy spirit with which the boys conducted themselves, and when it became generally known that they were the broncho boys, with Ted Strong at their head, they received a great deal of attention, which was not particularly to Ted's liking.
As usual, wherever they were, Bud Morgan, Ben Tremont, and Carl Schwartz provided a fund of amusement for everybody.
Little Dick Fosdick had never known such happiness as he was now experiencing. He worshiped Stella, admired Ted, and looked upon Bud as the greatest pal a boy ever had.
He and Bud were inseparable, and Bud never tired of telling him yarns about cow-punching and Indian fighting, while the boy proved a breathless listener, hanging upon every word that fell from the yellow-haired cowboy's lips.
He knew by heart many of the adventures through which Ted Strong had passed, and often surprised Ted by correcting some inaccuracy which, through a lapse of memory, Ted had made.
They were sailing across Missouri toward the West, and the boy kept his face glued to the window, watching for the first glimpse of the golden West of his fancy. Just at present he saw only farms and little towns, through which the fast train whizzed without stopping.
The boy knew this sort of country well, and was rather disappointed that the boundless prairie did not roll before him from horizon to horizon.
Then he turned his attention to the luxury of the car, but being a healthy boy, this did not impress him long, and he turned to his heroes for relief.
Bud was sitting comfortably sprawled out on two seats, singing softly to himself. Bud could not sing a little bit, but he thought he could, which served his purpose personally quite as well as if he could.
Ben was in the seat behind him, reading. After a while Bud's music, or the lack of it, got on Ben's nerves, and he reached over and poked Bud on top of his golden head with the corner of his book.
"Say," said he, "put on the soft pedal, won't you? Perhaps you can sing, and maybe some one told you you could, but t
ake it from me you have no more voice or musical ability than a he-goat."
"Oh, mercy!" retorted Bud. "Does my music annoy you?"
"It certainly does," snapped Ben.
"Then why don't yer move away?"
"Bah! You're an old goat."
"Thanks fer ther compliment, although yer don't mean it thet away. But when yer likens me ter a goat yer do me proud. If yer were more goatlike yerself ye'd be a heap more wiser."
"I'm glad you like it. The pleasure's all yours. But if a fellow called me a goat, I know what I'd do."
"Maybe, perhaps. But yer needn't be afraid that any one will liken yer ter a goat. Any self-respectin' goat would get sore at it. If I wuz ter pick out yer counterpart in ther animile world, I'd say yer most resembled the phillaloo?"
"What's a phillaloo?"
"A phillaloo is a cross between a penguin and a jassack."
"Say, you long-haired lobster!" cried Ben, leaping to his feet, apparently in great anger, "don't you call me anything like that."
"Well, didn't yer jest call me a goat?"
"Yes, but—"
"Then sit down an' git back ter yer love story; we're square. Nothin' is lost on both sides. But callin' me a goat don't make me sore none. I jest dote on goats. If I wasn't jest what I am, I'd sooner be a goat than a collidge gradooate."
"I've heard about enough, if you're alluding to me."
"Take it er leave it. But, ez I wuz goin' ter say before my conversation was cut inter by a loud an' empty noise, speakin' o' goats reminds me o' a time down on ther Pecos—"
"By Jove! I'm going to ask the conductor to move me into another car. This is too much. I might, perhaps, stand for being called a phillaloo, but I swear I'll not be compelled to stay here and listen to one of those silly and impossible stories of this insane cow-puncher."
At first some of the passengers thought that Bud and Ben were really angry at one another, but the wise ones soon saw that it was all bluff, as, of course, the broncho boys knew.
But it was very real to Dick Fosdick, who had yet many things to learn about the boys and their ways, and while the little chap was far too clever naturally to show his feelings, he sided with Bud, and thought that Ben was very unreasonable, especially as the boys, and some of the passengers, had flocked around Bud, who appeared not to notice them.
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