an' daid, an' his head busted in so's you wouldn't know him, not in a thousand years. Only thing we could find on that body was three little red diamonds tattooed on his arm. Now if somebody only knowed who that was"
"I think it would be a good idea to telegraph that description to Manager Grost of the National Agency at Cincinnati," Urleigh suggested, blandly.
"Sho!" the sheriff grinned. "You know I jes' 'lowed you all's story about bein' a newspaperman was a stall! I spotted you, right off, for one of those agency fellers. Yes, suh! I'll telegraph to Cincinnati. You expect theh's a reward on that feller?"
"No, I don't know—Grost is a friend of mine; I'm a reporter—he'll tell you the same if you ask him. Here's my card"
"Of course he'll tell me the same," the sheriff chuckled. "Oh, you boys are a sharp lot. Who do you expect that three-diamond man was?"
"White Collar Dan—Rubert Gost; he has a dozen names, I think."
"Sho! Now you speak of it—course hit is. And say, Mr. Man, I'm sure a blunderhead. That same day we found these boats nosing into the bank, the engine going and never stopped. That same day there was a river rat here that could have told me all about it. I let him slip right through my fingers—
