In spite of Injun’s belief that the men had not been in the ranch house, the boys took a look around, but nothing had been disturbed.  Then, as they dressed, they talked things over.  Whitey was not sorry that Bill Jordan was away.  While not one to think ill of people, Whitey always had believed that String and Ham were queer, and the affairs of the night seemed to point to the truth of this.  If Whitey could learn what sort of mischief the men were up to, it would be a feather in his cap, and it would give him great satisfaction to say “I told you so” to Bill, who always was so sure of himself.  And if he and Injun could prevent the others from committing that same mischief, the boys would be something like heroes.

As Whitey and Injun talked the matter over, Whitey reviewed what took place the night he overheard the whispered conversation in the bunk house.

“They talked about the mine,” he said to Injun, “and about meeting on a certain date.  What day of the month is it?” he asked.

By a miracle Injun happened to know the date, for John Big Moose had told him the day in September on which the ore was to be shipped, so Injun answered briefly, “Him thirty.”

“That was the date!” cried Whitey.  “They said the thirtieth of September.”  Other scraps of the men’s whispered talk began to come to Whitey’s mind, and to have meaning.  “They were to meet on that date, and they did.  That’s what String Beans was loafing around here for, pretending to be lame.  And they rode south.  Don’t you see?”

“Don’t see nothin’,” Injun answered.

“Why,” Whitey declared, jumping to his feet, “they’ve gone toward the railroad; toward the water tank, where all the trains stop.  I believe they’re going to hold up the gold shipment.  Come on, Injun, let’s get busy.”

CHAPTER IV

SOLUTION

The moon was well down toward the western edge of the prairie when the boys rode away from the bunk house.  They rode toward the south, in pursuit of the bandits, as they now called Whiff, String, and Ham.  Whitey and Injun had settled on this course shortly after Whitey had decided that the men were intent on train robbery.  There were several reasons for their choice.

For one thing, it was too late to go and warn Bill and the other punchers at the Junction.  And even if it were not, if they did that they would have to share with the ranch men the glory of the pursuit and possible capture of the bandits.  It may have been rash of the boys, but after their former adventures they felt capable of taking care of three bandits by themselves—­especially if they came on them unawares, which they intended to do.  Had Bill been there, it isn’t likely that he would have approved of their act, but with him away the boys could find plenty of reasons for doing what they wanted to do.

Slim, the cook, had taken no interest in the affair.  He was wrapped up in attending to his misery, and the boys left him in a bunk, soaked with liniment—­which by rights was intended for a horse—­and trying to sleep and forget his troubles.