WANTED-Small, flat-bottomed sailboat.
Centerboard type preferred. Hasty,
care this office.

Average Jones bought a ticket for Yuma.

Disembarking at the Yuma station three days later, Average Jones
blinked in the harsh sunlight at a small, compactly built, keen-eyed
man, roughly dressed for the trail.

"I'm Captain Funcke," said the stranger. His speech was gentle,
slow, even hesitant; but there was something competent and reliable
in his bearing which satisfied the shrewd young reader of men's
characters from the outset. "Your wire got me two days since and I
came right up."

"Any trace?"

"Left here two days ago."

"Three of them?"

"Yes. Flat-bottomed, narrow-beamed boat, sloop-rigged pretty
light."

"Know anything of the men?"

"Only the big one. Calls himself Colonel Richford. Had a fake
copper outfit in the mountains east of Alamo."