“Now, what else?” he said.  “You can’t get a hearing until to-morrow; the justice of the peace is out of town.  Do you know anybody here?  Can you give bail?”

“Ya-as, I reckon so.  But I won’t worry about that till to-morrow.  Night in jail don’t hurt any one.”

“If I can do anything for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you kindly, I’ll take you up on that.  Just let me think up a little.”

The upshot of his considerations was that the jailer carried to a tailor’s shop Johnson’s coat and vest, sadly mishandled during the brief affray on the bridge; the deputy dispatched a messenger to the Selden Farm with a note for Miss Mary Selden, and also made diligent inquiry as to Mr. Oscar Mitchell, reporting that Mr. Mitchell had taken the westbound flyer at four o’clock, together with Mr. Pelman, his clerk; both taking tickets to El Paso.

Later, a complaisant jailer brought to Pete a goodly supper from the Algonquin, clean bedding, cigars, magazines, and a lamp—­the last item contrary to rule.  He chatted with his prisoner during supper, cleared away the dishes, locked the cell door, with a cheerful wish for good night, and left Pete with his reflections.

Pete had hardly got to sleep when he was wakened by a queer, clinking noise.  He sat up in the bed and listened.

The sound continued.  It seemed to come from the window, from which the sash had been removed because of July heat.  Pete went to investigate.  He found, black and startling against the starlight beyond, a small rubber balloon, such as children love, bobbing up and down across the window; tied to it was a delicate silk fishline, which furnished the motive power.  As this was pulled in or paid out the balloon scraped by the window, and a pocket-size cigar clipper, tied beneath at the end of a six-inch string, tinkled and scratched on the iron bars.  Pete lit his lamp; the little balloon at once became stationary.

“This,” said Pete, grinning hugely, “is the doings of that Selden kid.  She is certainly one fine small person!”

Pete turned the lamp low and placed it on the floor at his feet, so that it should not unduly shape him against the window; he pulled gently on the line.  It gave; a guarded whistle came softly from the dark shadow of the jail.  Pete detached the captive balloon, with a blessing, and pulled in the fishline.  Knotted to it was a stout cord, and in the knot was a small piece of paper, rolled cigarette fashion.  Pete untied the knot; he dropped his coil of fishline out of the window, first securing the stronger cord by a turn round his hand lest he should inadvertently drop that as well; he held the paper to the light, and read the message: 

Waiting for you, with car, two blocks north.  Destroy MS.

Pete pulled up the cord, hand over hand, and was presently rewarded by a small hacksaw, eminently suited for cutting bars; he drew in the slack again and this time came to the end of the cord, to which was fastened a strong rope.  He drew this up noiselessly and laid the coils on the floor.  Then he penciled a note, in turn: