“‘Sleep-walking,’ said the doctor.

“All of us went back to the house, and the doctor told us some remarkable stories about the strange things people had done while in that condition.  I was feeling rather chilly after my trip out, and, as my wife was out of the room at the time, I pulled open the door of an old wardrobe that stood in the room and dragged out a big quilt I had seen in there.  With it tumbled out the bag of money for stealing which Bob was to be tried—­and convicted—­in the morning.

“‘How the jumping rattlesnakes did that get there?’ I yelled, and all hands must have seen how surprised I was.  Bob knew in a flash.

“‘You darned old snoozer,’ he said, with the old-time look on his face, ’I saw you put it there.  I watched you open the safe and take it out, and I followed you.  I looked through the window and saw you hide it in that wardrobe.’

“’Then, you blankety-blank, flop-eared, sheep-headed coyote, what did you say you took it, for?’

“‘Because,’ said Bob, simply, ‘I didn’t know you were asleep.’

“I saw him glance toward the door of the room where Jack and Zilla were, and I knew then what it meant to be a man’s friend from Bob’s point of view.”

Major Tom paused, and again directed his glance out of the window.  He saw some one in the Stockmen’s National Bank reach and draw a yellow shade down the whole length of its plate-glass, big front window, although the position of the sun did not seem to warrant such a defensive movement against its rays.

Nettlewick sat up straight in his chair.  He had listened patiently, but without consuming interest, to the major’s story.  It had impressed him as irrelevant to the situation, and it could certainly have no effect upon the consequences.  Those Western people, he thought, had an exaggerated sentimentality.  They were not business-like.  They needed to be protected from their friends.  Evidently the major had concluded.  And what he had said amounted to nothing.

“May I ask,” said the examiner, “if you have anything further to say that bears directly upon the question of those abstracted securities?”

“Abstracted securities, sir!” Major Tom turned suddenly in his chair, his blue eyes flashing upon the examiner.  “What do you mean, sir?”

He drew from his coat pocket a batch of folded papers held together by a rubber band, tossed them into Nettlewick’s hands, and rose to his feet.

“You’ll find those securities there, sir, every stock, bond, and share of ’em.  I took them from the notes while you were counting the cash.  Examine and compare them for yourself.”

The major led the way back into the banking room.  The examiner, astounded, perplexed, nettled, at sea, followed.  He felt that he had been made the victim of something that was not exactly a hoax, but that left him in the shoes of one who had been played upon, used, and then discarded, without even an inkling of the game.  Perhaps, also, his official position had been irreverently juggled with.  But there was nothing he could take hold of.  An official report of the matter would be an absurdity.  And, somehow, he felt that he would never know anything more about the matter than he did then.