Then into the glade galloped ten men.
Between two of them was swung a small, square thing, which was dropped
at the foot of a cottonwood tree not a dozen feet from where Ted was
concealed.
A man leaped from the back of a horse. He had a spade in his hand, and
as he advanced Ted drew in his breath sharply.
It was Corrigan, the Chicago millionaire. Behind him was Norcross, the
banker.
Ted looked vainly for Checkers. If he had been with the robbers at the
holdup, he had not come here with them. Meanwhile, the dirt was flying,
and a hole was being dug at the foot of the cotton wood.
After it was deep enough an iron box was dropped into it and covered
with earth, and silently the men remounted and rode away.
Ted waited about fifteen minutes to be sure that none of them would
return. Then he dug into the freshly laid earth and soon had exhumed the
iron box. It was somewhat of a heavy load, but he packed it manfully,
and in about half an hour carried it in his bag into the living room of
the ranch house.
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