He continued on to Wellington, skirmishing along the line, and
observing the faces of the postmasters; but these studies in
physiognomy threw no light on the mystery, as the officials of the
department on the route, though far removed from central
supervision, seemed to be all that their affectionate uncle at
Washington could wish. On the return trip the detective was
equally observant and equally perplexed. At that season the stage
stopped for the night at Hannibal; but there, likewise, the
postmaster shared the honest looks that seemed to prevail through
eastern Dakota.

Proceeding on, the passengers dined at Raven's Nest, where one
Michael Mahoney, Sr., kept a small store and the post-office,
running also--with the aid of a young son and a son-in-law--a farm.
The store was managed by Michael Mahoney, Jr., a married son, who
happened to be absent both when the special agent went up and when
he returned. The face of the old man indicated that he was
vicious, ignorant, and unscrupulous; but clearly he was not sharp
enough to execute nice work like that under investigation.

With the exception of a general knowledge of the offices, the
special agent returned but little wiser for the trip, and
concluded, as the best that could be done under the circumstances,
to allow the bird to flutter a little longer before renewing the
hunt. Meanwhile the thief grew more reckless, and the papers that
came to Mr. Furay, though covering a fraction only of the
depredations, located the thief on the lower end of the route,
within fifty miles of the terminus.