It had the appearance of necromancy.

Ted rode into town with Billy Sudden, arriving about noon.

Billy rode on to the Dumb-bell Ranch, and Ted stopped at the bank.  It seemed deserted.  But as he entered the door he saw a big man, dressed in the flashy clothes affected by managers of cheap circuses and fake shows, standing at the end of the counter talking to Wiley Creviss.

“I can’t do anything with that check,” Ted heard Creviss say.  “You’ll have to come in when the cashier is here.  The safe is locked, and I can’t get into it, anyway, and all the currency is in it.  I’m only staying here until the cashier gets back from dinner.”

“When will that be?” asked the stranger.

“In about half an hour.”

The stranger picked up his valise, which seemed to be heavy, and walked out grumbling about banks that closed up for dinner.

Ted said nothing to Wiley, but he took a good look about the bank, disregarding the other lad’s scowls.

He observed that the vault door stood open, but that there was no money in sight, and the place had an air of desertion, as if business was slack.

When Strong had seen all that he wanted of the apparent entrances to the bank that a criminal might use to force his way in, he left with two distinct impressions on his mind.  One was that the vault door had been open when he came in, and that Wiley Creviss had abruptly closed it when he saw Ted staring at it.  The other was the remarkable appearance of the showman, for without doubt he was that.

As before, the mysterious robbery of the bank proved to be too hard a nut for the citizens to crack, and when they had thrashed out all the theories advanced and knocked them to pieces again, they forgot it.

Not so Ted Strong.  This succession of robberies, none of them leaving behind the slightest clew to the perpetrators, interested him.  Its very difficulty of solution, which had made the lesser brains abandon it, compelled his attention and interest.

Had it been his business to tackle the problem, he gladly would have done so.  But the only Federal end to it was the robbery of the post office, which the inspectors of that department were working on, unless, perhaps, it might be found that the funds of the government for general purposes at Fort Rincon had been stolen.  Then the case would come under the operations of the United States marshal’s office.

But other and more pressing things of a personal nature gradually took his attention from crime, and he devoted himself to the coming round-up.

All the spare room in the Moon Valley Ranch house was occupied by visiting cattle buyers, who had come to the round-up.  The rooms of the boys had been given up to guests, while they camped on the prairie behind the house.

At last the great day came.

Early in the morning the boys were out, and with them was Stella.