The special with the posse on board drew out at midnight sharp.
It reached the scene of the holdup before daybreak. The loading
board was lowered and the horses led from the car and picketed.
Meanwhile two of the men lit a fire and made breakfast while the
others unloaded the outfit and packed for the trail. The first
faint streaks of gray dawn were beginning to fleck the sky when
Collins and Dillon, with a lantern, moved along the railroad bed
to the little clump of cottonwoods where the outlaws had probably
lain while they waited for the express. They scanned this ground
inch by inch. The coals where their camp-fire had been were still
alive. Broken bits of food lay scattered about. Half-trampled
into the ground the sheriff picked up a narrow gold chain and
locket. This last he opened, and found it to contain a tiny
photograph of a young mother and babe, both laughing happily. A
close search failed to disclose anything else of interest.

They returned to their companions, ate breakfast, and saddled. It
was by this time light enough to be moving. The trail was easy as
a printed map, for the object of the outlaws had been haste
rather than secrecy. The posse covered it swiftly and without
hesitation.

"Now, I wonder why this trail don't run straight south instead of
bearing to the left into the hills. Looks like they're going to
cache their stolen gold up in the mountains before they risk
crossing into Sonora. They figure Bucky'll be on the lookout for
them," the sheriff said to his deputy.

"I believe you've guessed it, Val. Stands to reason they'll want