“The chief did not say.  That is not for us to know, I guess, or he doesn’t think it will make any difference with us in our enthusiasm for our work of running down and capturing that gang, or gangs, as the ease may be.”

“But it wouldn’t do a feller no harm ter know.  I’d feel a heap more skittish if I wuz runnin’ after a million than if it wuz thirty cents.”

“There’s something in that, but we won’t let it interfere with the performance of our duty.”

“How does the chief put it up to us?”

“He tells the facts briefly, and says:  ‘Go and get the robbers.’”

“That’s short an’ ter ther p’int.  Anything else?”

“He says that the worst bunch of train robbers in ten years has been organized, with men operating on various railroads, and that from past performances it would seem that they had inside and powerful friends who were keeping them informed as to what trains to rob.  In other words, the thing seems to be a syndicate of robbers operated and directed from a central point by men of brains and resource.”

“An’ whar’s ther central p’int?”

“St. Louis.”

“Ah, I begins ter smell a mice.  So yer gradooly led up ter this place, pretendin’ ter sell hosses, eh?”

“No; we’ll kill two birds with one stone.  We’ll sell the horses if we can get our price for them, and it will be an excellent cloak to hide our real purpose, which is to try to get next to the headquarters of the train robbers.”

“Good idee.  But how aire yer goin’ ter go erbout it?”

“To tell you the truth, I haven’t an idea.  We will have to do our own scouting.  If the chief knew, it is not likely that he would employ us to find out.”

“Thet’s so.  Well, let’s be on ther scout.”

“We’ll still pose as ranchers with pony stock to sell, and let folks know it.  We’ll go over to the stockyards right now.”

“All right, but the stunt is ter keep our eyes peeled fer ther train-robber syndicate’s office.”

“That’s it.  One never can tell when he will run onto just the thing he’s looking for when he least expects it.”

“We’re being shadowed,” said Ted, a short time after they had left their hotel and were walking through the streets toward the bridge that spans the Mississippi River to East St. Louis.

“How d’yer know?” asked Bud, sending a cautious eye around.

“See that fellow with the checked suit, on the opposite side of the street?”

“Uh-huh!”

“He’s on our trail.  Don’t give him a hint that we’re on to him, and if he chases us all day he’ll see that we are what we represent ourselves to be, just plain cow-punchers.”

“I’m on.”

The man in the checked suit got on the same trolley car with them at the bridge, and while they were walking through the stockyards they saw him frequently, not always in evidence, but always somewhere in their vicinity.