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+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76082 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                             ONE JUMP AHEAD
+
+                            By Ray Humphreys
+
+                   Author of “Not of the Card,” etc.
+
+
+That morning, bright and early, Manuel Perez was at the sheriff’s
+office. He was there so early, in fact, that he found the office locked
+and he had to wait around outside until he saw Sheriff Joe Cook and
+“Shorty” McKay, the deputy, coming up the walk. Then Manuel hobbled
+forward as quickly as he could manage with his wooden leg. There was a
+smile on his face and his right hand was extended as he neared the two
+approaching officers.
+
+“Ah--señors!” he exclaimed cordially.
+
+“Why, hullo thar, Perez!” said Sheriff Cook warmly, taking the Mexican’s
+proffered hand. “Glad to see yuh. Ah--er--when did yuh git back? Out on
+parole, I suppose?”
+
+“That ees eet--parole!” announced Perez, shaking hands with Shorty. “I
+git back early dees mawnin’. Eet ees long time since I be here, eh,
+señors? Eet ees long time I be in eet--de beeg house, what yuh call
+heem! One, two, tree years--but now de parole he come an’ I be back!
+But----” The smiling Perez shrugged his shoulders. “I have no de
+dinero--de money!” No cow--no bla-bla sheep; de place eet fall to eet’s
+ruin! When I go away to de beeg house yuh say mebbe should I straighten
+up, yuh say, when I come out yuh really help me, sheriff--so I come!”
+
+The sheriff’s eyes traveled swiftly over Manuel Perez. The Mexican, bad
+as he was, had always been pitied by the sheriff. Perhaps it was because
+Perez had one leg off just below the knee. He hobbled around on a “peg.”
+The sheriff had sympathy for any such unfortunate, even if he was a
+convicted rustler. Looking at him now, Sheriff Cook saw the marks of the
+penitentiary on his care-lined face and his lack-luster eyes; Perez had
+aged in the three years he had been in prison. He wore a prison shirt
+now, and a pair of coarse, prison trousers,
+
+“Come in the office, Perez,” invited Sheriff Cook, “I guess me an’
+Shorty mebbe kin figger some way o’ helpin’ yuh out. I guess the best
+thing to do is to try to git yuh a job.”
+
+“_Si, señor!_” agreed Perez, hopefully.
+
+“Perez,” said the sheriff, after the trio had entered the office, “yuh
+got off light when yuh drawed five to seven years. I know yuh’d been
+rustlin’ calves for a long time, although we couldn’t prove but the one
+case on yuh. I suppose yuh’re through with that fer all time, eh?”
+
+“_Si!_”
+
+“I hope so!” said the sheriff. “I’ll ring up Earl Wettengel an’ see ef
+he kain’t put yuh on as a sheep-herder out to his place until we mebbe
+kin find something better. Ef Earl ain’t got nuthin’ open I’ll call Art
+Wachter an’ ask him to give yuh a job, Perez. Me an’ Shorty ain’t such
+hard hombres, Perez, as yuh know. It was our duty to see yuh got
+punished for rustlin’, but now that yuh’re out on parole we’re more’n
+ready to help yuh beat back ef yuh’ll jus stay on th’ square.”
+
+“I swear eet!” said Perez hastily.
+
+“How long yuh been out, Perez? asked Shorty, as the sheriff reached for
+the telephone directory.
+
+“I git out de beeg house yesterday noon,” said Perez, “I ketch de train
+to Salida; a friend bring me in wagon here. I come right to yuhr office,
+but eet ees yet locked up.”
+
+“Central, give me Monte Vista 234 R, please,” began the sheriff, but he
+hung up the receiver when the office door banged open and old “Grandpa”
+McMeel stumbled into the office, his washed-out-blue eyes as wide as
+saucers. The sheriff and Shorty both sensed instantly that something was
+doing! Grandpa McMeel was too calm, too easy-going ordinarily, to come
+leaping into the office without waiting to knock, all breathless, his
+chin whiskers jerking convulsively as he tried to master his excitement.
+
+“Gents!” burst out Grandpa wildly.
+
+“Take it easy, take it easy, Grandpa!” suggested Shorty, jumping up to
+help the old man to the nearest chair. “Jus’ ketch yuhr breath afore yuh
+try any talkin’. Yuh ain’t seen a ghost, has yuh? Or the courthouse
+ain’t on fire, or----”
+
+“Ghost! Fire!” cried Grandpa shrilly. “Huh! Say, thar’s devilment afoot,
+that’s what! Leave it to me to find out about it, too! I wasn’t a Injun
+scout fer nuthin’ in my young days! Thar they was, down under the
+bridge, workin’ with them flash-on-an’-off lights an’ shovels, an’
+diggin’ fer all they was worth----”
+
+“Who?” asked Sheriff Cook suddenly.
+
+“Who? How the heck do I know?” thundered Grandpa peevishly. “I seen ’em,
+that’s all! They was a-buryin’ a body, I figgered! Or a-diggin’ one up,
+mebbe! I don’t know! I wasn’t so sure, either, until this mawnin’. Yuh
+see I had a toddy las’ night over to ‘Pap’ Stewart’s house an’---- But
+this mawin’ I goes down thar, under the bridge, an’ thar it is, purty as
+yuh please, a big hole!”
+
+The sheriff looked at Shorty and Shorty looked at the sheriff, while old
+Grandpa fought for more breath. Manuel Perez, his face wearing a puzzled
+expression, got up and sauntered over to the window, as though
+withdrawing, as best he could, from a conference that might be more or
+less private in nature, judging from Grandpa’s preliminary revelations.
+Shorty glanced at Perez just as the sheriff, recovering himself, asked
+Grandpa a question.
+
+“Yuh say yuh seen a big hole under the bridge?”
+
+“Sure,” cried Grandpa breathlessly, “an’ tracks, too! They was two men
+down thar workin’ las’ night--about midnight--an’ I could hear the
+shovels a-goin’. I leaned over the bridge an’ I could see their
+flash-on-an’-off lights, too. They dug up a big box an’ lugged it off.
+They waded Coyote Creek with it, an’----”
+
+“Two men,” repeated Sheriff Cook. “Yuh can’t describe ’em----”
+
+“Describe ’em, heck!” said Grandpa angrily. “They was shadders, that’s
+all--shadders! I tell yuh it was dark as a bag o’ black cats! I went
+down this mawnin’ an’ saw the hole an’----”
+
+There was a rap at the door and before the sheriff or Shorty could sing
+out an invitation to enter, it swung wide and in stepped Fred Speers,
+bubbling over with excitement. He wasted no time on preliminaries at
+all. He blurted his story right out!
+
+“I seen somethin’ funny las’ night down under the bridge!” he exclaimed.
+“I was settin’ down on the bank o’ Coyote Creek with my gal friend when
+I hears two men comin’ splashin’ across the creek, sheriff! They’re
+usin’ spotlight! I figgers they’re robbers, mebbe, an’ me an’ my gal
+jus’ holds our breaths! So they don’t see us, but they goes up under the
+end o’ the Third Street bridge an’ digs up a box an’ then they goes back
+across creek----”
+
+The sheriff pushed his chair back from the desk.
+
+“We know all about that, Fred,” he said; “Grandpa McMeel here jus’
+reported it. I reckon we’d better go take a look at that hole right now,
+Shorty. As fer yuh, Perez, I’ll have to postpone seein’ about a job fer
+yuh a few minutes while we looks inter this hole business. Yuh wait
+here, an’ when we gets back I’ll call some o’ them sheep ranchers
+an’----”
+
+“Surely,” agreed Perez, bowing, “but mebbe I like go look at hole,
+too--ef sheriff no object to eet?”
+
+“Half the town’s thar now,” put in Grandpa McMeel suddenly. “I tell yuh,
+sheriff, it’s devilment, that’s what!”
+
+There was a hole under the east end of the Third Street bridge, sure
+enough. Quite a hole. The two mysterious men, whoever they might have
+been, had spaded over an area fully twelve by ten feet. They had dug
+extensively, it appeared, to locate the box, and had evidently taken it
+from a depth of some two feet or more near the far end of the
+excavation. The soft earth had crumbled in, however, and there was no
+telltale impression left to give the officers any accurate idea of the
+size of the box that had been unearthed. There was quite a crowd of
+interested citizens around and they had tramped out some of the signs
+about the place, no doubt. But the trail the men had taken to the river
+was plain enough--and quite astonishing in itself.
+
+“Great sufferin’ jack rabbits!” exclaimed the sheriff, as he stared at
+it. “That was some box they got outta thar, Shorty. Lookit, they drug it
+clear to the river--a long, narrer box--thar’s the trail clear as
+daylight right to the water!”
+
+“Yep,” said Shorty glumly, “an’ that’s all thar is, too. Thar ain’t no
+footprints at all, boss; that box they dragged wiped out the prints.
+What do yuh know about that?”
+
+The sheriff swore softly under his breath.
+
+“This is a hot one!” he remarked, as he stared around the crowd. “What
+do yuh suppose could have come off here las’ night? Speers, yuh saw the
+men, what did they look like, eh? Was it too dark fer yuh to get any
+descriptions?”
+
+Speers, thus honored before the whole crowd, shook his head.
+
+“I saw ’em purty plain, fer they passed close to me,” he answered. “They
+was both tall, easy over six feet, an’ husky! An’ once, when one feller
+was holdin’ a flashlight an’ the other feller was stooped down, draggin’
+at the box they’d finally found. I saw that the stooped-over feller had
+light hair. I guess that was about all, exceptin’ it was a big, long,
+narrer box they got out an’ drug away, an’ it was heavy; an’ thev must
+o’ been big fellers because they lifted it an’ carried it as soon as
+they struck the creek ag’in on thar way back. I guess that’s all.”
+
+The sheriff put his hands on his hips.
+
+“A fine howdy-do!” he remarked savagely. “Gosh knows what them birds dug
+up from under this bridge! Buried treasure, likely, or mebbe a body! But
+more probably gold, or some other kind o’ loot--mebbe smuggled stuff
+from the border--an’ they didn’t leave a blamed clew either! A nice
+mess, folks, I’ll say! Shorty, what do yuh make o’ it all?”
+
+Shorty stared around blankly.
+
+“I dunno,” he said, “it looks kinda funny, doesn’t it?”
+
+The “buried box” mystery forthwith became the great sensation of the San
+Luis Valley. There were all kinds of rumors afloat instantly, of course,
+and everybody had his or her pet explanation of the mystery. There were
+many who thought that a body had been exhumed from beneath the end of
+the bridge. There were as many others who firmly believed that a fortune
+in smuggled jewels or contraband narcotics from the border had been dug
+up and carried away. And there were many odd explanations, too.
+
+“I maintains that it was Injun treasure,” insisted old Grandpa McMeel
+hotly, “an’ I blame myself fer not goin’ right down thar when I saw them
+two ruffians workin’ thar an’ stretchin’ ’em out cold with my cane! I
+could o’ done it, too, ef I had jus’ been sure I saw ’em like I thought!
+I had them two toddies up to Pappy Stewart’s house just afore
+an’--an’--waal, I weren’t sure I did see them two fellers thar----”
+
+“I could ’a’ reached out an’ poked a stick at ’em an’ made ’em put up
+their hands!” said Fred Speers. “I was that close to ’em, but my gal
+friend was scared to death! An’ I didn’t dare take no chances! O
+’course, I could o’ licked ’em both in a rough-an’-tumble fight, big as
+thev was; but waal--it weren’t no time or place to start a lot o’
+cussin’ an’ trouble.”
+
+Sheriff Cook was worried. As soon as he got back to the office, trailed
+by the sad-looking Manuel Perez, he slumped into a chair and sighed in
+despair.
+
+“Ef it ain’t one thing it’s another, with this job, Manuel,” he
+explained. “Did yuh notice whar that feller Shorty disappeared to?”
+
+“He say he look fer clews,” answered Perez.
+
+“Oh,” said the sheriff. “Yes, I remember, so he did. Waal, I looked an’
+thar wasn’t any, Perez. What do yuh think about it, eh? Somebody had
+somethin’ valuable hid thar?”
+
+“_Si_,” said Perez. “Mebbe some robbers long time ago hide stuff thar,
+who knows? Whar I was--in de beeg house, sheriff--I hear often those
+robbers speak o’ buryin’ their loot.”
+
+The sheriff nodded.
+
+“That’s the answer, Perez, in my mind; it might have been some o’ that
+Alamosa bank loot that was stolen eight years ago; or mebbe some o’ that
+Como stage gold bullion that was taken twelve years ago. I’ll have to
+look up them old jobs--an’ speakin’ o’ jobs, I’ll call up about yuhrs
+right now, son!”
+
+The sheriff was successful. On the third call Jack Quinn, a sheep
+rancher on Larimer Creek, agreed to take on Perez, the ex-convict,
+provided the sheriff thought he would go straight. The sheriff said he
+did think so, and the deal was made, after which the sheriff lectured
+Perez again, got that honest fellow’s sworn promise to be good, and
+started him on his way with a loan of two dollars for grub en route.
+Perez was bubbling over with gratitude.
+
+“_Gracias_, sheriff!” he exclaimed. “I go Señor Quinn’s at once. Mebbe
+some day Manuel Perez able to pay sheriff back for kindness. Watch an’
+see! _Adios_, señor!”
+
+When Shorty reported, some hours later, that he had been unable to find
+a single clew in the vicinity of the Third Street bridge, the sheriff
+was not at all surprised. He had not expected Shorty to find any. He
+said so. He also pointed out to his disappointed deputy that he himself
+had searched the scene rather thoroughly while making his first
+investigation of the place and had not found anything. It looked like a
+hopeless proposition.
+
+“Not a danged clew,” said the sheriff. “But I got my mind made up as to
+what it was, Shorty. It wasn’t nobody business. It was loot buried thar
+from the Alamosa bank robbery eight years ago. They never caught the
+crooks, an’ never found trace o’ the dough. It was that or else the loot
+from the Como stage robbery twelve years ago, or from some other job. We
+ain’t got a chance in ten million o’ landin’ them guys, despite the
+description Speers got. We kin check on the descriptions we got at the
+time o’ them Alamosa an’ Como stage robbers an’ see ef they coincides
+with Speer’s descriptions o’ the men last night, but outside o’
+that----”
+
+“I’ll check on ’em,” said Shorty, moving toward the door.
+
+“Go ahead,” said the sheriff wearily, “an’ meanwhile I’ll stay here an’
+do a little heavy thinkin’, Shorty. We kain’t afford to overlook no
+bets, ef thar are any bets. Yuh remember what Fred Speers said--big
+giants o’ fellers an’ one with light hair. It’s a purty meager
+description, but it’s all we got, Shorty!”
+
+Sheriff Cook, however, had little time to do much heavy thinking, as he
+had put it. Shorty had not been gone more than thirty minutes when in
+came “Doc” Healey, and Eddie Owens, and Bert Clark, the county
+commissioners, and they were considerably excited. They got down to
+brass tacks immediately.
+
+“Sheriff,” said Owens, “yuh ain’t forgot, I trusts, that this is the
+year o’ the spring elections in this county. Yuh’re up fer reelection
+ag’in, I presume, an’ so are we county commissioners. Yuh remembers
+that?”
+
+“O’ course!”
+
+“Waal, therefore, me an’ Doc Healey an’ Bert Clark figgered we’d better
+drap in on yuh an’ see what yuh think about this buried-box business.
+Everybody’s talkin’----”
+
+“Sure they are!”
+
+“It’s a sensation; it’s either good business or bad business fer all o’
+us,” went on Owens sadly. “Ef yuh clears up the case, it’s a big help
+come election time; but ef yuh don’t an’ the other side makes political
+capital o’ yuhr failure, we’re all liable to sink together.”
+
+The sheriff frowned.
+
+“Yuh ain’t tellin’ me no news,” he snapped; “it’s jus’ one danged thing
+after another in this office. We no sooner gits one case cleared up than
+here comes another; but this one, gents, this one ain’t no cinch. We got
+no clews.”
+
+Commissioner Bert Clark spoke up quickly.
+
+“Waal, I’ll tell you one thing, yuh won’t get no clew settin’ thar in
+yuhr chair!”
+
+After that remark the atmosphere became rather strained. The sheriff
+ignored Clark’s question as one far beneath his notice. The other two
+commissioners, not being as frank as Clark, said nothing more on the
+subject. They spoke on the spring wheat prospects, the weather, the new
+railroad that was coming in to Alamosa. They left, with awkward
+farewells, shortly after leaving a worried sheriff behind them. He
+growled as the door closed on them.
+
+“I wouldn’t give ’em the satisfaction o’ arguin’ with ’em about whether
+I kin git clews settin’ here in my chair or not,” he grunted. “I
+wouldn’t dignify such a impudent question with an answer. Still, I
+reckon, mebbe I’d best.” He got up and slapped on his big black hat.
+“I’ll go down an’ look that place over ag’in!”
+
+And he did. The crowd was gone now. Only a few boys hung around,
+thrilled with the very atmosphere of the place. The sheriff poked here
+and there. He followed the strange trail of the dragged box to the creek
+bank. He reassured himself that the trail did actually vanish in the
+creek bed. The bed was sandy--shifting sand that would cover any trail
+almost instantly. And there was nothing about the hole now but a million
+footprints. The sheriff shook his head mournfully.
+
+“No use,” he muttered, “no use!”
+
+He stared about, trying to think if he could be overlooking anything. It
+did not seem so. He glanced this way and that and a thought struck him.
+He wondered if Shorty had combed the dead weeds and the brush to both
+sides of the bridge end. It was hardly likely that it was worth while,
+still----
+
+The sheriff went at the thing methodically enough. He strode back and
+forth, up and down, this way and that, covering all the weeded area on
+the south of the bridge without discovering anything other than old tin
+cans, pieces of wood, scraps of iron, and the other débris that one
+might expect to find along a creek bank. He finally crossed under the
+bridge to the north side and began his investigations there. He had not
+been at work ten minutes on that side when he stopped in his tracks with
+a surprised snort.
+
+“By golly!” he exclaimed, and stooping over he picked up a rusty old
+black wallet. There was a rubber band around it. He snapped the band off
+and opened the wallet. Empty! Visions of greenbacks, calling cards, the
+owner’s name and address, perhaps--all faded away. Empty! But no, it
+wasn’t empty, after all! There was a newspaper clipping in one pocket of
+the old wallet, a clipping slightly yellowed with age. The sheriff took
+it out carefully, inspected it, held it closer to read:
+
+                     FIND NO TRACE OF BANK ROBBERS
+                   ALAMOSA BANDITS FADE INTO THIN AIR
+
+    _Clarion_ goes to press this Thursday no trace has been
+    found of the three gunmen who entered the Alamosa bank last
+    week and got away with eight thousand dollars in cash and
+    five thousand six hundred dollars in negotiable securities.
+    They have apparently disappeared into thin air. Sheriff
+    Ralph Baird of Alamosa has worked tirelessly in an effort to
+    trace the men, but without avail. The reward of one thousand
+    dollars offered by the Colorado State-Bankers’ Association
+    has so far borne no fruit. It is hoped, however, that----
+
+Sheriff Cook read no further. He put the clipping back in the wallet. He
+placed the wallet in his pocket.
+
+“Great sufferin’ jack rabbits,” he exclaimed hopelessly, as his face
+grew longer, “jus’ as I thought! It was th’ Alamosa loot that was buried
+here. What them crooks got away with las’ night! Eight years! Eight
+years that eight thousand dollars plus that five thousand six hundred in
+securities has been buried under this bridge here in Monte Vista, right
+under my nose!”
+
+The sheriff stalked on, like a man in a trance.
+
+“Las’ night they come back an’ git it, provin’ that I am asleep on the
+job! They was in town las’ night an’ got away clean! Further, that loot
+has been there eight years, an’ now it’s gone, an’, also, them robbers
+must have been here a little after that Alamosa job, eight years ago, to
+bury the stuff in the fust place! Gee whiz, what a nice mess now!”
+
+The sheriff headed for his office with rapid strides.
+
+“What the heck am I goin’ to do?” he asked himself, as he strode along.
+“It’s a cinch thar’s no ketchin’ them Alamosa robbers now ef they
+couldn’t be ketched eight years ago when the trail was hot! Findin’ that
+old wallet jus’ proves what I feared, an’ that’s all. It don’t help none
+otherwise. It jus’ makes the case more hopeless than ever! I kain’t see
+any use----”
+
+The sheriff swallowed hard.
+
+“No use in announcin’ anything about the findin’ o’ the wallet,” he
+decided disgustedly. “It only makes matters worse than ever. It proves I
+was asleep eight years ago to let that stuff be buried here then, an’
+that I’ve been asleep every day since while it’s been here, as waal as
+las’ night when they come an’ got it. I better keep that wallet business
+under my hat!”
+
+But he did not. When he got back to the office and found Shorty full of
+hope that the mysterious box case might be solved, he could not keep his
+secret. He cautioned Shorty first to keep what he was about to say in
+strictest confidence forever, and then he blurted out the sad truth:
+
+“Shorty, we ain’t ever goin’ to ketch them box fellers. They was the
+Alamosa robbers, sure enough, look it here what I found in the weeds
+down near the Third Street bridge!”
+
+The sheriff produced the wallet. Shorty read the clipping eagerly. When
+he had read it through and examined it closely he looked up at the
+woebegone sheriff.
+
+“I still say,” said Shorty, “that we got a chance!”
+
+The next morning the sheriff, having spent a sleepless night, came down
+to the office wan and haggard. He had no faith in Shorty’s optimistic
+predictions of the evening before. Since finding the wallet with the
+telltale newspaper clipping in it. the sheriff had given up the box case
+as a matter that was not to be solved. It was hopeless, he had decided.
+There was nothing left to do now but to face the music, and the
+anticipated opportunity to listen to some sad music was not long denied
+him.
+
+The commissioners arrived shortly after nine o’clock.
+
+“Waal,” asked Commissioner Eddie Owens mournfully, “what luck, ef any,
+has yuh had in the box case, sheriff? We are naturally anxious to know
+ef yuh got any clews.”
+
+The sheriff answered the question carefully. “No luck whatever,” said
+he.
+
+“Huh,” said Commissioner Bert Clark, “that’s bad, sheriff, mighty bad.
+The public clamor is increasin’. The rumor is spreadin’ everywhar that
+mebbe we ain’t goin’ to ever solve the case.”
+
+The sheriff took his pride in his hands--what he had left of it. He
+tried to smile at the commissioners and failed.
+
+“That rumor, gents,” he said slowly, “is--is jus’ about correct. I
+figger it’s--it’s right. We ain’t goin’ to ever git the men who got that
+box, however----”
+
+The sheriff produced the old wallet.
+
+“I found one clew,” he said unhappily, “an’ this is it; a ol’ wallet,
+evidently dropped by one o’ the crooks who come fer that box. Thar’s a
+clippin’ inside that tells the tale--here it is--yuh gents kind read
+it.”
+
+He passed over the clipping and sighed. After all, it would not have
+been right, he decided on the spur of the moment, to keep that thing a
+secret from the county commissioners. They had a right to know--the
+worst. He watched their faces as Clark read the clipping aloud--and the
+sheriff knew it was his official death knell as sheriff of Monte Vista
+that the commissioner was reading.
+
+Clark finished. The commissioners were silent.
+
+“I take it that the clippin’ settles the box mystery case--an’ settles
+me!” said the sheriff softly. “It means--that clippin’--that it was two
+o’ the Alamosa bandits who came back an’ got that buried loot--the
+Alamosa loot--the other night. It means we’ll never get ’em. It means
+that they was not only here the other night, but that they was likewise
+here after the robbery when they buried the loot--here twice an’ we
+didn’t get ’em either time. That loot was here all those eight years an’
+we didn’t get it----”
+
+The commissioners coughed, fidgeted.
+
+“Ef it helps the party any I’ll up an’ resign,” offered the sheriff
+meekly. “I have made up my mind. Yuh kin put up a new man fer sheriff
+come election, an’ mebbe win with him--seein’ yuh probably kain’t win
+with me when this news gits out.”
+
+Commissioner Clark nodded.
+
+“Yuh’re takin’ the matter sensible, sheriff,” he agreed. “I think yuhr
+suggestion is the only suggestion possible.”
+
+The sheriff reached a trembling hand for a pad of paper. He would write
+out his resignation as a candidate for reelection now. It could be
+announced at once and----
+
+There was an interruption, however. Shorty and Manuel Perez and Fred
+Speers appeared in the open doorway suddenly. They entered quickly. The
+commissioners stared, but it was the sheriff who spoke up, thickly, in a
+strange tone.
+
+“Shorty, I’m busy jus’ now--ef it ain’t important I wish yuh’d wait
+outside. Hullo, Perez, yuh git fired offen yuhr new job already? Good
+mawnin’, Speers. Now ef yuh all will----”
+
+“This matter won’t wait,” said Shorty, taking in the situation at a
+glance. “Whatever yuh was aimin’ to write down on that pad had better
+wait, boss. Looky here----”
+
+Shorty yanked a bundle from his shirt front. A bundle wrapped in
+newspapers. He quickly broke the string that held it. He spread the
+bundle out on the sheriff’s desk. Money! Greenbacks! Dozens of them.
+Hundreds of them. A young fortune in currency!
+
+“Thar, boss,” said Shorty softly, “thar’s what was in that box that was
+dug up out o’ the ground under the end o’ the Third Street bridge the
+other night. It’s money. About six thousand dollars in cold cash--as I
+counted it hastily. The box itself has been discarded somewhars, but it
+doesn’t matter much. Perez here kin tell us all about the box. In fact,
+he’s already told me--confessed--that that dough is his loot from many a
+rustlin’ deal afore he went to the pen. Yuh remember he had no money
+when we arrested him? He pretended to be broke. Waal, he was canny
+enough to have buried his roll under the bridge jus’ afore we pinched
+him. An’ while he was in stir he planned how to git it.”
+
+Shorty grinned at the startled commissioners.
+
+“Perez planned waal, but I was jus’ one jump ahead o’ him all the time,
+it seems,” Shorty went on. “He said he got in town the other mawnin’
+from the pen, havin’ left thar at noon. I thought it strange he should
+come direct to us to git him a job when he could o’ gone to his old
+Mexican friends. He was still playin’ that poverty gag. I checked up on
+the pen, though, an’ found he had left thar twelve hours earlier than he
+said--so that he could o’ been here when the box was dug up.
+
+“Perez an’ Speers here dug up the box. I had suspected that Perez was in
+on it as soon as I heard the report, because the trail o’ the men had
+been obliterated by the draggin’ o’ the box, as we thought. An’ why?
+Because Perez knew his peg-leg marks would give him away. That’s why
+they came an’ went by wadin’ the creek. But it wasn’t a box they dragged
+after them. Perez simply scraped his shovel along as he made fer the
+creek, bein’ careful to follow the same path down as he had took comin’
+up.
+
+“Perez got to our office early for two reasons. Fust, to impress on us
+that he wanted a job, that he was broke, an’ that he meant to go
+straight. Also, he wanted to be here when we opened so he could hear if
+Grandpa McMeel, who had stumbled onto things, reported to us. When
+Grandpa came in with his story, Perez moved to the winder, signalin’
+Speers, who was waiting’. Speers came in an’ reported what he had seen,
+bein’ careful to give us bum descriptions. Ol’ eagle-eyed McMeel
+couldn’t describe the men it was so dark, but Speers could--an’ that’s
+why I suspected Speers.
+
+“When yuh found the wallet, boss. I was sure it had been planted to
+throw us off the track on a hopeless angle. I learned at the _Clarion_
+office that Speers had been in, right after the case had become public,
+to give his story to the editor. He was alone in the office for a time.
+The old files are thar. I looked up the issue eight years back that
+carried the item that was in the wallet. Sure enough, that clippin’ had
+been clipped, an’ jus’ recent, because thar was new fingerprints on the
+dusty file. See? So I went out to the ranch whar yuh had got Perez his
+job an’ cross-examined him. He had the dough on him. He confessed
+everything, includin’ the fact that Speers had been in the rustlin’ game
+with him afore he went to the pen. Speers, however, didn’t know whar the
+swag was hid until Perez got back, told him, an’ together they arranged
+the job o’ recoverin’ their dough--easy enough ef ol’ Grandpa McMeel
+hadn’t butted in!”
+
+The faces of the county commissioners relaxed.
+
+“This,” said Commissioner Clark, “jus’ about clinches the election this
+spring, sheriff. Yuh done fine work. Yuh got our heartiest
+congratulations! The story o’ how yuh solved the most bafflin’ case in
+years in Monte Vista, will sure make good readin’. Folks all through the
+valley will lift their hats to yuh, sheriff--an’ vote us all back inter
+office, sure as shootin’!”
+
+The sheriff pushed away the pad that he had been about to write on when
+Shorty brought in Perez and Speers.
+
+“Yes,” he agreed, grinning, “I guess the election’s won right now. Ef
+reelected gents, I has but one pledge to make now, an’ that is--I will
+reappoint Shorty McKay as my deputy for another term because--waal,
+gents, I like Shorty a heap!”
+
+“Amen to that!” said Commissioner Clark fervently.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 20, 1929 issue
+of _Western Story Magazine_.]
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76082 ***
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+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76082 ***</div>
+<div id='imgfpc' class='mt01 mb01 wimgfpc'>
+  <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='Five men in Western attire standing on a town street, with a saloon and restaurant visible in the background.' style='width:100%'>
+</div>
+<h1>ONE JUMP AHEAD</h1>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<div>By Ray Humphreys</div>
+<div style='margin-bottom:1.6em;font-style:italic;'>Author of “Not of the Card,” etc. </div>
+</div>
+<p>That morning, bright and early, Manuel Perez was at the sheriff’s
+office. He was there so early, in fact, that he found the office locked
+and he had to wait around outside until he saw Sheriff Joe Cook and
+“Shorty” McKay, the deputy, coming up the walk. Then Manuel hobbled
+forward as quickly as he could manage with his wooden leg. There was a
+smile on his face and his right hand was extended as he neared the two
+approaching officers.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah—señors!” he exclaimed cordially.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, hullo thar, Perez!” said Sheriff Cook warmly, taking the Mexican’s
+proffered hand. “Glad to see yuh. Ah—er—when did yuh git back? Out on
+parole, I suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>“That ees eet—parole!” announced Perez, shaking hands with Shorty. “I
+git back early dees mawnin’. Eet ees long time since I be here, eh,
+señors? Eet ees long time I be in eet—de beeg house, what yuh call
+heem! One, two, tree years—but now de parole he come an’ I be back!
+But&mdash;&mdash;” The smiling Perez shrugged his shoulders. “I have no de
+dinero—de money!” No cow—no bla-bla sheep; de place eet fall to eet’s
+ruin! When I go away to de beeg house yuh say mebbe should I straighten
+up, yuh say, when I come out yuh really help me, sheriff—so I come!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff’s eyes traveled swiftly over Manuel Perez. The Mexican, bad
+as he was, had always been pitied by the sheriff. Perhaps it was because
+Perez had one leg off just below the knee. He hobbled around on a “peg.”
+The sheriff had sympathy for any such unfortunate, even if he was a
+convicted rustler. Looking at him now, Sheriff Cook saw the marks of the
+penitentiary on his care-lined face and his lack-luster eyes; Perez had
+aged in the three years he had been in prison. He wore a prison shirt
+now, and a pair of coarse, prison trousers,</p>
+
+<p>“Come in the office, Perez,” invited Sheriff Cook, “I guess me an’
+Shorty mebbe kin figger some way o’ helpin’ yuh out. I guess the best
+thing to do is to try to git yuh a job.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Si, señor!</i>” agreed Perez, hopefully.</p>
+
+<p>“Perez,” said the sheriff, after the trio had entered the office, “yuh
+got off light when yuh drawed five to seven years. I know yuh’d been
+rustlin’ calves for a long time, although we couldn’t prove but the one
+case on yuh. I suppose yuh’re through with that fer all time, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Si!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so!” said the sheriff. “I’ll ring up Earl Wettengel an’ see ef
+he kain’t put yuh on as a sheep-herder out to his place until we mebbe
+kin find something better. Ef Earl ain’t got nuthin’ open I’ll call Art
+Wachter an’ ask him to give yuh a job, Perez. Me an’ Shorty ain’t such
+hard hombres, Perez, as yuh know. It was our duty to see yuh got
+punished for rustlin’, but now that yuh’re out on parole we’re more’n
+ready to help yuh beat back ef yuh’ll jus stay on th’ square.”</p>
+
+<p>“I swear eet!” said Perez hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“How long yuh been out, Perez? asked Shorty, as the sheriff reached for
+the telephone directory.</p>
+
+<p>“I git out de beeg house yesterday noon,” said Perez, “I ketch de train
+to Salida; a friend bring me in wagon here. I come right to yuhr office,
+but eet ees yet locked up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Central, give me Monte Vista 234 R, please,” began the sheriff, but he
+hung up the receiver when the office door banged open and old “Grandpa”
+McMeel stumbled into the office, his washed-out-blue eyes as wide as
+saucers. The sheriff and Shorty both sensed instantly that something was
+doing! Grandpa McMeel was too calm, too easy-going ordinarily, to come
+leaping into the office without waiting to knock, all breathless, his
+chin whiskers jerking convulsively as he tried to master his excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“Gents!” burst out Grandpa wildly.</p>
+
+<p>“Take it easy, take it easy, Grandpa!” suggested Shorty, jumping up to
+help the old man to the nearest chair. “Jus’ ketch yuhr breath afore yuh
+try any talkin’. Yuh ain’t seen a ghost, has yuh? Or the courthouse
+ain’t on fire, or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Ghost! Fire!” cried Grandpa shrilly. “Huh! Say, thar’s devilment afoot,
+that’s what! Leave it to me to find out about it, too! I wasn’t a Injun
+scout fer nuthin’ in my young days! Thar they was, down under the
+bridge, workin’ with them flash-on-an’-off lights an’ shovels, an’
+diggin’ fer all they was worth&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Who?” asked Sheriff Cook suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“Who? How the heck do I know?” thundered Grandpa peevishly. “I seen ’em,
+that’s all! They was a-buryin’ a body, I figgered! Or a-diggin’ one up,
+mebbe! I don’t know! I wasn’t so sure, either, until this mawnin’. Yuh
+see I had a toddy las’ night over to ‘Pap’ Stewart’s house an’&mdash;&mdash;&#160;But
+this mawin’ I goes down thar, under the bridge, an’ thar it is, purty as
+yuh please, a big hole!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff looked at Shorty and Shorty looked at the sheriff, while old
+Grandpa fought for more breath. Manuel Perez, his face wearing a puzzled
+expression, got up and sauntered over to the window, as though
+withdrawing, as best he could, from a conference that might be more or
+less private in nature, judging from Grandpa’s preliminary revelations.
+Shorty glanced at Perez just as the sheriff, recovering himself, asked
+Grandpa a question.</p>
+
+<p>“Yuh say yuh seen a big hole under the bridge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure,” cried Grandpa breathlessly, “an’ tracks, too! They was two men
+down thar workin’ las’ night—about midnight—an’ I could hear the
+shovels a-goin’. I leaned over the bridge an’ I could see their
+flash-on-an’-off lights, too. They dug up a big box an’ lugged it off.
+They waded Coyote Creek with it, an’&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Two men,” repeated Sheriff Cook. “Yuh can’t describe ’em&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Describe ’em, heck!” said Grandpa angrily. “They was shadders, that’s
+all—shadders! I tell yuh it was dark as a bag o’ black cats! I went
+down this mawnin’ an’ saw the hole an’&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There was a rap at the door and before the sheriff or Shorty could sing
+out an invitation to enter, it swung wide and in stepped Fred Speers,
+bubbling over with excitement. He wasted no time on preliminaries at
+all. He blurted his story right out!</p>
+
+<p>“I seen somethin’ funny las’ night down under the bridge!” he exclaimed.
+“I was settin’ down on the bank o’ Coyote Creek with my gal friend when
+I hears two men comin’ splashin’ across the creek, sheriff! They’re
+usin’ spotlight! I figgers they’re robbers, mebbe, an’ me an’ my gal
+jus’ holds our breaths! So they don’t see us, but they goes up under the
+end o’ the Third Street bridge an’ digs up a box an’ then they goes back
+across creek&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff pushed his chair back from the desk.</p>
+
+<p>“We know all about that, Fred,” he said; “Grandpa McMeel here jus’
+reported it. I reckon we’d better go take a look at that hole right now,
+Shorty. As fer yuh, Perez, I’ll have to postpone seein’ about a job fer
+yuh a few minutes while we looks inter this hole business. Yuh wait
+here, an’ when we gets back I’ll call some o’ them sheep ranchers
+an’&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Surely,” agreed Perez, bowing, “but mebbe I like go look at hole,
+too—ef sheriff no object to eet?”</p>
+
+<p>“Half the town’s thar now,” put in Grandpa McMeel suddenly. “I tell yuh,
+sheriff, it’s devilment, that’s what!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a hole under the east end of the Third Street bridge, sure
+enough. Quite a hole. The two mysterious men, whoever they might have
+been, had spaded over an area fully twelve by ten feet. They had dug
+extensively, it appeared, to locate the box, and had evidently taken it
+from a depth of some two feet or more near the far end of the
+excavation. The soft earth had crumbled in, however, and there was no
+telltale impression left to give the officers any accurate idea of the
+size of the box that had been unearthed. There was quite a crowd of
+interested citizens around and they had tramped out some of the signs
+about the place, no doubt. But the trail the men had taken to the river
+was plain enough—and quite astonishing in itself.</p>
+
+<p>“Great sufferin’ jack rabbits!” exclaimed the sheriff, as he stared at
+it. “That was some box they got outta thar, Shorty. Lookit, they drug it
+clear to the river—a long, narrer box—thar’s the trail clear as
+daylight right to the water!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep,” said Shorty glumly, “an’ that’s all thar is, too. Thar ain’t no
+footprints at all, boss; that box they dragged wiped out the prints.
+What do yuh know about that?”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff swore softly under his breath.</p>
+
+<p>“This is a hot one!” he remarked, as he stared around the crowd. “What
+do yuh suppose could have come off here las’ night? Speers, yuh saw the
+men, what did they look like, eh? Was it too dark fer yuh to get any
+descriptions?”</p>
+
+<p>Speers, thus honored before the whole crowd, shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“I saw ’em purty plain, fer they passed close to me,” he answered. “They
+was both tall, easy over six feet, an’ husky! An’ once, when one feller
+was holdin’ a flashlight an’ the other feller was stooped down, draggin’
+at the box they’d finally found. I saw that the stooped-over feller had
+light hair. I guess that was about all, exceptin’ it was a big, long,
+narrer box they got out an’ drug away, an’ it was heavy; an’ thev must
+o’ been big fellers because they lifted it an’ carried it as soon as
+they struck the creek ag’in on thar way back. I guess that’s all.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff put his hands on his hips.</p>
+
+<p>“A fine howdy-do!” he remarked savagely. “Gosh knows what them birds dug
+up from under this bridge! Buried treasure, likely, or mebbe a body! But
+more probably gold, or some other kind o’ loot—mebbe smuggled stuff
+from the border—an’ they didn’t leave a blamed clew either! A nice
+mess, folks, I’ll say! Shorty, what do yuh make o’ it all?”</p>
+
+<p>Shorty stared around blankly.</p>
+
+<p>“I dunno,” he said, “it looks kinda funny, doesn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>The “buried box” mystery forthwith became the great sensation of the San
+Luis Valley. There were all kinds of rumors afloat instantly, of course,
+and everybody had his or her pet explanation of the mystery. There were
+many who thought that a body had been exhumed from beneath the end of
+the bridge. There were as many others who firmly believed that a fortune
+in smuggled jewels or contraband narcotics from the border had been dug
+up and carried away. And there were many odd explanations, too.</p>
+
+<p>“I maintains that it was Injun treasure,” insisted old Grandpa McMeel
+hotly, “an’ I blame myself fer not goin’ right down thar when I saw them
+two ruffians workin’ thar an’ stretchin’ ’em out cold with my cane! I
+could o’ done it, too, ef I had jus’ been sure I saw ’em like I thought!
+I had them two toddies up to Pappy Stewart’s house just afore
+an’—an’—waal, I weren’t sure I did see them two fellers thar&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I could ’a’ reached out an’ poked a stick at ’em an’ made ’em put up
+their hands!” said Fred Speers. “I was that close to ’em, but my gal
+friend was scared to death! An’ I didn’t dare take no chances! O
+’course, I could o’ licked ’em both in a rough-an’-tumble fight, big as
+thev was; but waal—it weren’t no time or place to start a lot o’
+cussin’ an’ trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>Sheriff Cook was worried. As soon as he got back to the office, trailed
+by the sad-looking Manuel Perez, he slumped into a chair and sighed in
+despair.</p>
+
+<p>“Ef it ain’t one thing it’s another, with this job, Manuel,” he
+explained. “Did yuh notice whar that feller Shorty disappeared to?”</p>
+
+<p>“He say he look fer clews,” answered Perez.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” said the sheriff. “Yes, I remember, so he did. Waal, I looked an’
+thar wasn’t any, Perez. What do yuh think about it, eh? Somebody had
+somethin’ valuable hid thar?”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Si</i>,” said Perez. “Mebbe some robbers long time ago hide stuff thar,
+who knows? Whar I was—in de beeg house, sheriff—I hear often those
+robbers speak o’ buryin’ their loot.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the answer, Perez, in my mind; it might have been some o’ that
+Alamosa bank loot that was stolen eight years ago; or mebbe some o’ that
+Como stage gold bullion that was taken twelve years ago. I’ll have to
+look up them old jobs—an’ speakin’ o’ jobs, I’ll call up about yuhrs
+right now, son!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff was successful. On the third call Jack Quinn, a sheep
+rancher on Larimer Creek, agreed to take on Perez, the ex-convict,
+provided the sheriff thought he would go straight. The sheriff said he
+did think so, and the deal was made, after which the sheriff lectured
+Perez again, got that honest fellow’s sworn promise to be good, and
+started him on his way with a loan of two dollars for grub en route.
+Perez was bubbling over with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Gracias</i>, sheriff!” he exclaimed. “I go Señor Quinn’s at once. Mebbe
+some day Manuel Perez able to pay sheriff back for kindness. Watch an’
+see! <i>Adios</i>, señor!”</p>
+
+<p>When Shorty reported, some hours later, that he had been unable to find
+a single clew in the vicinity of the Third Street bridge, the sheriff
+was not at all surprised. He had not expected Shorty to find any. He
+said so. He also pointed out to his disappointed deputy that he himself
+had searched the scene rather thoroughly while making his first
+investigation of the place and had not found anything. It looked like a
+hopeless proposition.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a danged clew,” said the sheriff. “But I got my mind made up as to
+what it was, Shorty. It wasn’t nobody business. It was loot buried thar
+from the Alamosa bank robbery eight years ago. They never caught the
+crooks, an’ never found trace o’ the dough. It was that or else the loot
+from the Como stage robbery twelve years ago, or from some other job. We
+ain’t got a chance in ten million o’ landin’ them guys, despite the
+description Speers got. We kin check on the descriptions we got at the
+time o’ them Alamosa an’ Como stage robbers an’ see ef they coincides
+with Speer’s descriptions o’ the men last night, but outside o’
+that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll check on ’em,” said Shorty, moving toward the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Go ahead,” said the sheriff wearily, “an’ meanwhile I’ll stay here an’
+do a little heavy thinkin’, Shorty. We kain’t afford to overlook no
+bets, ef thar are any bets. Yuh remember what Fred Speers said—big
+giants o’ fellers an’ one with light hair. It’s a purty meager
+description, but it’s all we got, Shorty!”</p>
+
+<p>Sheriff Cook, however, had little time to do much heavy thinking, as he
+had put it. Shorty had not been gone more than thirty minutes when in
+came “Doc” Healey, and Eddie Owens, and Bert Clark, the county
+commissioners, and they were considerably excited. They got down to
+brass tacks immediately.</p>
+
+<p>“Sheriff,” said Owens, “yuh ain’t forgot, I trusts, that this is the
+year o’ the spring elections in this county. Yuh’re up fer reelection
+ag’in, I presume, an’ so are we county commissioners. Yuh remembers
+that?”</p>
+
+<p>“O’ course!”</p>
+
+<p>“Waal, therefore, me an’ Doc Healey an’ Bert Clark figgered we’d better
+drap in on yuh an’ see what yuh think about this buried-box business.
+Everybody’s talkin’&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure they are!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a sensation; it’s either good business or bad business fer all o’
+us,” went on Owens sadly. “Ef yuh clears up the case, it’s a big help
+come election time; but ef yuh don’t an’ the other side makes political
+capital o’ yuhr failure, we’re all liable to sink together.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff frowned.</p>
+
+<p>“Yuh ain’t tellin’ me no news,” he snapped; “it’s jus’ one danged thing
+after another in this office. We no sooner gits one case cleared up than
+here comes another; but this one, gents, this one ain’t no cinch. We got
+no clews.”</p>
+
+<p>Commissioner Bert Clark spoke up quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“Waal, I’ll tell you one thing, yuh won’t get no clew settin’ thar in
+yuhr chair!”</p>
+
+<p>After that remark the atmosphere became rather strained. The sheriff
+ignored Clark’s question as one far beneath his notice. The other two
+commissioners, not being as frank as Clark, said nothing more on the
+subject. They spoke on the spring wheat prospects, the weather, the new
+railroad that was coming in to Alamosa. They left, with awkward
+farewells, shortly after leaving a worried sheriff behind them. He
+growled as the door closed on them.</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t give ’em the satisfaction o’ arguin’ with ’em about whether
+I kin git clews settin’ here in my chair or not,” he grunted. “I
+wouldn’t dignify such a impudent question with an answer. Still, I
+reckon, mebbe I’d best.” He got up and slapped on his big black hat.
+“I’ll go down an’ look that place over ag’in!”</p>
+
+<p>And he did. The crowd was gone now. Only a few boys hung around,
+thrilled with the very atmosphere of the place. The sheriff poked here
+and there. He followed the strange trail of the dragged box to the creek
+bank. He reassured himself that the trail did actually vanish in the
+creek bed. The bed was sandy—shifting sand that would cover any trail
+almost instantly. And there was nothing about the hole now but a million
+footprints. The sheriff shook his head mournfully.</p>
+
+<p>“No use,” he muttered, “no use!”</p>
+
+<p>He stared about, trying to think if he could be overlooking anything. It
+did not seem so. He glanced this way and that and a thought struck him.
+He wondered if Shorty had combed the dead weeds and the brush to both
+sides of the bridge end. It was hardly likely that it was worth while,
+still&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff went at the thing methodically enough. He strode back and
+forth, up and down, this way and that, covering all the weeded area on
+the south of the bridge without discovering anything other than old tin
+cans, pieces of wood, scraps of iron, and the other débris that one
+might expect to find along a creek bank. He finally crossed under the
+bridge to the north side and began his investigations there. He had not
+been at work ten minutes on that side when he stopped in his tracks with
+a surprised snort.</p>
+
+<p>“By golly!” he exclaimed, and stooping over he picked up a rusty old
+black wallet. There was a rubber band around it. He snapped the band off
+and opened the wallet. Empty! Visions of greenbacks, calling cards, the
+owner’s name and address, perhaps—all faded away. Empty! But no, it
+wasn’t empty, after all! There was a newspaper clipping in one pocket of
+the old wallet, a clipping slightly yellowed with age. The sheriff took
+it out carefully, inspected it, held it closer to read:</p>
+
+<div class='ce'>
+<div style='margin-top:1.0em;'>FIND NO TRACE OF BANK ROBBERS </div>
+<div>ALAMOSA BANDITS FADE INTO THIN AIR</div>
+</div>
+<blockquote>
+<p><i>Clarion</i> goes to press this Thursday no trace has been found of the
+three gunmen who entered the Alamosa bank last week and got away with
+eight thousand dollars in cash and five thousand six hundred dollars in
+negotiable securities. They have apparently disappeared into thin air.
+Sheriff Ralph Baird of Alamosa has worked tirelessly in an effort to
+trace the men, but without avail. The reward of one thousand dollars
+offered by the Colorado State-Bankers’ Association has so far borne no
+fruit. It is hoped, however, that&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Sheriff Cook read no further. He put the clipping back in the wallet. He
+placed the wallet in his pocket.</p>
+
+<p>“Great sufferin’ jack rabbits,” he exclaimed hopelessly, as his face
+grew longer, “jus’ as I thought! It was th’ Alamosa loot that was buried
+here. What them crooks got away with las’ night! Eight years! Eight
+years that eight thousand dollars plus that five thousand six hundred in
+securities has been buried under this bridge here in Monte Vista, right
+under my nose!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff stalked on, like a man in a trance.</p>
+
+<p>“Las’ night they come back an’ git it, provin’ that I am asleep on the
+job! They was in town las’ night an’ got away clean! Further, that loot
+has been there eight years, an’ now it’s gone, an’, also, them robbers
+must have been here a little after that Alamosa job, eight years ago, to
+bury the stuff in the fust place! Gee whiz, what a nice mess now!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff headed for his office with rapid strides.</p>
+
+<p>“What the heck am I goin’ to do?” he asked himself, as he strode along.
+“It’s a cinch thar’s no ketchin’ them Alamosa robbers now ef they
+couldn’t be ketched eight years ago when the trail was hot! Findin’ that
+old wallet jus’ proves what I feared, an’ that’s all. It don’t help none
+otherwise. It jus’ makes the case more hopeless than ever! I kain’t see
+any use&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff swallowed hard.</p>
+
+<p>“No use in announcin’ anything about the findin’ o’ the wallet,” he
+decided disgustedly. “It only makes matters worse than ever. It proves I
+was asleep eight years ago to let that stuff be buried here then, an’
+that I’ve been asleep every day since while it’s been here, as waal as
+las’ night when they come an’ got it. I better keep that wallet business
+under my hat!”</p>
+
+<p>But he did not. When he got back to the office and found Shorty full of
+hope that the mysterious box case might be solved, he could not keep his
+secret. He cautioned Shorty first to keep what he was about to say in
+strictest confidence forever, and then he blurted out the sad truth:</p>
+
+<p>“Shorty, we ain’t ever goin’ to ketch them box fellers. They was the
+Alamosa robbers, sure enough, look it here what I found in the weeds
+down near the Third Street bridge!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff produced the wallet. Shorty read the clipping eagerly. When
+he had read it through and examined it closely he looked up at the
+woebegone sheriff.</p>
+
+<p>“I still say,” said Shorty, “that we got a chance!”</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the sheriff, having spent a sleepless night, came down
+to the office wan and haggard. He had no faith in Shorty’s optimistic
+predictions of the evening before. Since finding the wallet with the
+telltale newspaper clipping in it. the sheriff had given up the box case
+as a matter that was not to be solved. It was hopeless, he had decided.
+There was nothing left to do now but to face the music, and the
+anticipated opportunity to listen to some sad music was not long denied
+him.</p>
+
+<p>The commissioners arrived shortly after nine o’clock.</p>
+
+<p>“Waal,” asked Commissioner Eddie Owens mournfully, “what luck, ef any,
+has yuh had in the box case, sheriff? We are naturally anxious to know
+ef yuh got any clews.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff answered the question carefully. “No luck whatever,” said
+he.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh,” said Commissioner Bert Clark, “that’s bad, sheriff, mighty bad.
+The public clamor is increasin’. The rumor is spreadin’ everywhar that
+mebbe we ain’t goin’ to ever solve the case.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff took his pride in his hands—what he had left of it. He
+tried to smile at the commissioners and failed.</p>
+
+<p>“That rumor, gents,” he said slowly, “is—is jus’ about correct. I
+figger it’s—it’s right. We ain’t goin’ to ever git the men who got that
+box, however&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff produced the old wallet.</p>
+
+<p>“I found one clew,” he said unhappily, “an’ this is it; a ol’ wallet,
+evidently dropped by one o’ the crooks who come fer that box. Thar’s a
+clippin’ inside that tells the tale—here it is—yuh gents kind read
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>He passed over the clipping and sighed. After all, it would not have
+been right, he decided on the spur of the moment, to keep that thing a
+secret from the county commissioners. They had a right to know—the
+worst. He watched their faces as Clark read the clipping aloud—and the
+sheriff knew it was his official death knell as sheriff of Monte Vista
+that the commissioner was reading.</p>
+
+<p>Clark finished. The commissioners were silent.</p>
+
+<p>“I take it that the clippin’ settles the box mystery case—an’ settles
+me!” said the sheriff softly. “It means—that clippin’—that it was two
+o’ the Alamosa bandits who came back an’ got that buried loot—the
+Alamosa loot—the other night. It means we’ll never get ’em. It means
+that they was not only here the other night, but that they was likewise
+here after the robbery when they buried the loot—here twice an’ we
+didn’t get ’em either time. That loot was here all those eight years an’
+we didn’t get it&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The commissioners coughed, fidgeted.</p>
+
+<p>“Ef it helps the party any I’ll up an’ resign,” offered the sheriff
+meekly. “I have made up my mind. Yuh kin put up a new man fer sheriff
+come election, an’ mebbe win with him—seein’ yuh probably kain’t win
+with me when this news gits out.”</p>
+
+<p>Commissioner Clark nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Yuh’re takin’ the matter sensible, sheriff,” he agreed. “I think yuhr
+suggestion is the only suggestion possible.”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff reached a trembling hand for a pad of paper. He would write
+out his resignation as a candidate for reelection now. It could be
+announced at once and&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>There was an interruption, however. Shorty and Manuel Perez and Fred
+Speers appeared in the open doorway suddenly. They entered quickly. The
+commissioners stared, but it was the sheriff who spoke up, thickly, in a
+strange tone.</p>
+
+<p>“Shorty, I’m busy jus’ now—ef it ain’t important I wish yuh’d wait
+outside. Hullo, Perez, yuh git fired offen yuhr new job already? Good
+mawnin’, Speers. Now ef yuh all will&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“This matter won’t wait,” said Shorty, taking in the situation at a
+glance. “Whatever yuh was aimin’ to write down on that pad had better
+wait, boss. Looky here&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Shorty yanked a bundle from his shirt front. A bundle wrapped in
+newspapers. He quickly broke the string that held it. He spread the
+bundle out on the sheriff’s desk. Money! Greenbacks! Dozens of them.
+Hundreds of them. A young fortune in currency!</p>
+
+<p>“Thar, boss,” said Shorty softly, “thar’s what was in that box that was
+dug up out o’ the ground under the end o’ the Third Street bridge the
+other night. It’s money. About six thousand dollars in cold cash—as I
+counted it hastily. The box itself has been discarded somewhars, but it
+doesn’t matter much. Perez here kin tell us all about the box. In fact,
+he’s already told me—confessed—that that dough is his loot from many a
+rustlin’ deal afore he went to the pen. Yuh remember he had no money
+when we arrested him? He pretended to be broke. Waal, he was canny
+enough to have buried his roll under the bridge jus’ afore we pinched
+him. An’ while he was in stir he planned how to git it.”</p>
+
+<p>Shorty grinned at the startled commissioners.</p>
+
+<p>“Perez planned waal, but I was jus’ one jump ahead o’ him all the time,
+it seems,” Shorty went on. “He said he got in town the other mawnin’
+from the pen, havin’ left thar at noon. I thought it strange he should
+come direct to us to git him a job when he could o’ gone to his old
+Mexican friends. He was still playin’ that poverty gag. I checked up on
+the pen, though, an’ found he had left thar twelve hours earlier than he
+said—so that he could o’ been here when the box was dug up.</p>
+
+<p>“Perez an’ Speers here dug up the box. I had suspected that Perez was in
+on it as soon as I heard the report, because the trail o’ the men had
+been obliterated by the draggin’ o’ the box, as we thought. An’ why?
+Because Perez knew his peg-leg marks would give him away. That’s why
+they came an’ went by wadin’ the creek. But it wasn’t a box they dragged
+after them. Perez simply scraped his shovel along as he made fer the
+creek, bein’ careful to follow the same path down as he had took comin’
+up.</p>
+
+<p>“Perez got to our office early for two reasons. Fust, to impress on us
+that he wanted a job, that he was broke, an’ that he meant to go
+straight. Also, he wanted to be here when we opened so he could hear if
+Grandpa McMeel, who had stumbled onto things, reported to us. When
+Grandpa came in with his story, Perez moved to the winder, signalin’
+Speers, who was waiting’. Speers came in an’ reported what he had seen,
+bein’ careful to give us bum descriptions. Ol’ eagle-eyed McMeel
+couldn’t describe the men it was so dark, but Speers could—an’ that’s
+why I suspected Speers.</p>
+
+<p>“When yuh found the wallet, boss. I was sure it had been planted to
+throw us off the track on a hopeless angle. I learned at the <i>Clarion</i>
+office that Speers had been in, right after the case had become public,
+to give his story to the editor. He was alone in the office for a time.
+The old files are thar. I looked up the issue eight years back that
+carried the item that was in the wallet. Sure enough, that clippin’ had
+been clipped, an’ jus’ recent, because thar was new fingerprints on the
+dusty file. See? So I went out to the ranch whar yuh had got Perez his
+job an’ cross-examined him. He had the dough on him. He confessed
+everything, includin’ the fact that Speers had been in the rustlin’ game
+with him afore he went to the pen. Speers, however, didn’t know whar the
+swag was hid until Perez got back, told him, an’ together they arranged
+the job o’ recoverin’ their dough—easy enough ef ol’ Grandpa McMeel
+hadn’t butted in!”</p>
+
+<p>The faces of the county commissioners relaxed.</p>
+
+<p>“This,” said Commissioner Clark, “jus’ about clinches the election this
+spring, sheriff. Yuh done fine work. Yuh got our heartiest
+congratulations! The story o’ how yuh solved the most bafflin’ case in
+years in Monte Vista, will sure make good readin’. Folks all through the
+valley will lift their hats to yuh, sheriff—an’ vote us all back inter
+office, sure as shootin’!”</p>
+
+<p>The sheriff pushed away the pad that he had been about to write on when
+Shorty brought in Perez and Speers.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he agreed, grinning, “I guess the election’s won right now. Ef
+reelected gents, I has but one pledge to make now, an’ that is—I will
+reappoint Shorty McKay as my deputy for another term because—waal,
+gents, I like Shorty a heap!”</p>
+
+<p>“Amen to that!” said Commissioner Clark fervently.</p>
+
+<div class='tn'>
+Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 20, 1929 issue
+of <i>Western Story Magazine</i>.
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76082 ***</div>
+</body>
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+book #76082 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76082)