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nor did I wish to, for another shifting of the
hillside might have entombed me. I was glad to rejoin
Holmes, who had straightened from the semi-crouch in which he had
been inspecting the area. Words were
unnecessary. His manner told me that any
clue that might have been seduced by his uncanny
powers of observation into a thin thread of
revelation and thence into fabric for a garment of truth
had been taken or trampled by the heavy- footed
minions of the law who preceded us to this spot.
    Never
at a loss in finding other avenues of investigation, Holmes brought
his attention to bear on Dandy Jack, he
being the expert on the locale. "The
boxcar was found right at the end of track?" he
asked that worthy.
    An
affirmative nod was the reply.
    "An
uncanny bit of figuring," said the sleuth, and then
chose to confide in our driver. "The
boxcar with the gold was separated from the
rest of the train on the upgrade. Gravity caused it
to roll backward, picking up enough speed to carry it to the spur
line and then right here. How far would you say?" he asked,
regarding Dandy Jack intently.
    "Good
half mile." Drawn into the recreation, the man
contributed another thought after a moment. "If
the freight carrier was goin' a mite fast, those rocks
would have stopped it." He indicated the boulders I had noted
earlier. "Though I don't recall a
mention of one end bein' bunged in. There's a slight
downgrade in the spur line, which you've noticed."
    Holmes
indicated that he had.
    "They
could ha' levered her here had they wished.
A coupla stout timbers would ha' done it."
    "And
stout backs." My friend seemed dissatisfied. "But
why when they could just as well have driven the wagon to wherever it
stopped? It was a wagon, wasn't it?"
    His
keen eyes had never left Dandy Jack.
    "Aye.
Iron-tired wheels. The tracks was plain when
the railroad police and Constable Sindelar got
here from Brent."
    "You
heard about it." Holmes' statement had the overtones of a
question.
    "I
come later to 'ave a peek. 'Twas but one wagon,
two horses."
    "It
was a heavy load. All right, Jack, what would you
have done with half a million in gold ingots?"
    "Different
from them, it would have been. A wagonload of hay outward-bound in
one direction. Some feed bags in
another. The safest of the lot, a load
of manure, taking a third route."
    "With
gold ingots riding under the loads," said the
sleuth, nodding as if in agreement with this idea. "Might they not have done that? Divided
the booty further along the line?"
Holmes then sug gested.
    Dandy
Jack's denial was firm. "There was not that
much traffic at the time. I know pretty much everybody hereabout.
Iffen it was outsiders, some body
would have noticed them."
    "There
were no locals involved. You're sure of that?"
    "Very
sure, Mr. Holmes." This was the only time Dandy Jack used my
friend's name and a flicker in his
guarded eyes showed that he regretted it. There was
no reaction from my friend at this breech of etiquette.
Rather, he seemed prepared to accept Dandy
Jack's statement.
    "Then
how did they do it with but one wagon?"
    Our
driver shrugged. "'Tis a point that's puzzled me."
    "From
a professional standpoint," said Holmes dryly.
    Suddenly
the sleuth whirled and set out toward the
main line, his long strides eating up distance. Dandy
Jack and I looked at each other for a moment
questioningly, and then I shrugged and followed
in Holmes' footsteps with our driver by my
side. My judgment of distance is faulty, but it seemed
like less than a quarter of a mile hike to the main
line, where we found Holmes inspecting the junction point with his
magnifying glass. Arising, he brushed
off his knees. A look at Dandy Jack evidently
carried a message and the man secured a metal
bar from a wooden box beside the track. Using it, he activated the
switching mechanism and I noted the iron
tracks shift. Holmes reached down with a
finger and straightened to rub it against
his thumb.
    "Well
oiled, but they would do that."
    "The
man positioned here,