The road to Orella was in the opposite direction to that taken by Dave and Roger on the day they had encountered the heavy storm. As Mr. Obray had said, the trail was well marked, so that the young civil engineer had little trouble in following it.
“But you are going to have some rough riding, Dave,” remarked Roger, when he came forward to see his chum depart. “They tell me there is one spot on the trail where riding is as dangerous as it is on any trail in Montana.”
“Well, Sport is a good horse, and I intend to be careful,” answered our hero; and then, with a wave of his hand, he galloped away and was soon out of sight of the construction camp.
Our hero felt in the best of humor, for the day promised to be a fine one and a ride on horseback through the mountains was just to his liking. He could not help but whistle gayly to himself as he sped forward; and thus the first three miles of his journey were covered in a comparatively short space of time.
69Beyond these three miles the trail roughened for another mile or two, and here the young civil engineer had to pick his way among the rocks and loose stones with care. In some places where the trail was of dirt, the brushwood grew thickly, so that it often brushed his legs and the sides of his steed as they passed. This, of course, was merely the foot trail to Orella, a sort of short cut. The main trail for teams wound along farther down in the valley and was fully fifteen miles longer.
As Dave pursued his journey, many thoughts came to his mind, both about his work and concerning those left at home in Crumville. The beautiful face of Jessie, with her bewitching eyes, was continually before him; and once or twice he took from his pocket the last letter he had received from her, to read over some of the lines she had penned.
“She wants me to make good as a civil engineer, and I’m going to do it,” he murmured to himself.
Shortly after leaving the construction camp he had passed several miners who were prospecting in that vicinity, but now he seemed to be alone on the trail, and the only sound that broke the stillness was the occasional cry of a wild bird and the hoofbeats of his horse as the sturdy animal moved ahead.
Having mounted to the top of an unusually hard 70rise, Dave brought Sport to a halt to rest, and also to take a look at his surroundings. On one side of him were the jagged rocks leading still further upward, while on the other was the broad valley, clothed in green and with a shimmering river flowing through its center. Far away he could see some animals grazing, and took them to be mountain goats, although at such a distance it was hard to make sure.
“A fellow certainly could have some great times out here hunting in the proper season,” he told himself. “I’d like to go out myself for a few days, especially if I could get some old hunter for a guide.”
Having rested for about five minutes, Dave moved forward again, and soon found himself on the dangerous part of the trail mentioned by Roger. The youth had heard this spoken of before, and he reined in his steed and moved forward with caution.
“You be careful, old boy,” he said, patting his horse on the neck. “Neither of us wants to take a tumble down yonder rocks. If we did, it might be good-bye to both of us.”
Evidently Sport understood the situation quite as well as did the young civil engineer, for he kept as close to the inner side of the path as possible, and picked every step carefully, and thus they moved onward until the very worst of the trail had 71been left behind. There was, however, still some bad places, the trail widening out in some spots only to narrow worse than ever in others.
“Hi there! Don’t you ride me down!” cried an unexpected voice, as Dave came around one of the narrow bends of the trail. And the next instant the youth found himself face to face with Nick Jasniff.
The fellow who had been in prison was on foot, and carried a bundle strapped over one shoulder. He was so close that he had to leap to one side for fear of being trampled under foot, and this filled him with anger even before he recognized who was on horseback.
“Nick Jasniff!” exclaimed Dave, and for the instant knew not what more to say.
“So it’s you, Porter, is it?” snarled the former bully of Oak Hall. “What are you doing on this trail?”
“That is none of your business, Jasniff,” answered Dave coldly.
“See here! You needn’t put on any lordly airs with me!” growled the fellow who in the past had caused our hero so much trouble. “Thought you were playing a fine game on me, didn’t you—having that construction camp manager make a fool of me?” And now Jasniff came closer and caught Dave’s horse by the bridle.
“You keep your hands off my horse, Jasniff,” 72ordered Dave. “You let go of him this instant!”
“I’ll let go when I please.”
“No, you won’t! You’ll let go now!” And so speaking, Dave leaned over in the saddle to push the fellow away.
It was not a very wise thing to do, and Dave should have known better. The instant he made the movement, Jasniff, who was tall and powerful, caught him by the arm, and the next instant had hauled him from the saddle. The scuffle which resulted from this alarmed the horse, and the steed trotted away some distance up the trail.
“I guess I’ve got you now where I want you, Porter!” cried Jasniff, the squinting eye squinting worse than ever as he scowled at our hero. “I’ve got a big account to settle with you.”
Dave realized that he was in for it and that Nick Jasniff would hesitate at nothing to accomplish his purpose. Our hero remembered well the dastardly attack made on him by the rascal at the Oak Hall gymnasium with an Indian club.
Jasniff struck out with his left fist, and at the same time put his right hand back as if to draw some weapon. Dave dodged the blow intended for his face, and then struck out swiftly, hitting Jasniff in the cheek. Then several blows were exchanged in quick succession, Dave being hit in the chest and shoulder and Jasniff receiving several in the chest and one on the nose which sent him staggering 73several feet. Then the bully rushed forward and clinched, and both circled around and around on the narrow trail, each trying to get the advantage of the other.
“I’ll fix you! Just wait and see!” panted Jasniff, as he did his best to get a strangle hold on our hero.
Dave did not answer, for he realized that in an encounter with such a tall and powerful fellow as Jasniff he must make the best use of his breath as well as his muscles.
He slipped from the clutch Jasniff was trying to get on him, and caught the fellow by the waist. Then Jasniff went down with Dave on top of him, and both rolled over and over among the rocks and into some bushes which chanced to have sprung up in that vicinity.
“You le—le—let up!” gasped Jasniff presently, when he found Dave had him by the throat.
“I’ll let up when I’m through with you—not before,” answered Dave pantingly.
The struggle continued, and Jasniff arose partly to a sitting position only to have his head banged backward on the rocks. Then, however, he managed to get one leg doubled up and he sent his foot into Dave’s stomach in such a way that our hero was for the moment deprived of his breath. Both clinched again and rolled over until they were close to the edge of the rocks.
74“Now I’ve got you!” cried the bully; and just as Dave managed to hit him another blow in the nose, one which made the blood spurt, Jasniff tore himself free and an instant later pushed Dave down over the rocks.
Even then our hero might have saved himself, as he had his left foot planted in what he thought a safe place, and he might have caught Jasniff by the leg. But the foot gave way most unexpectedly, and in a trice Dave found himself rolling over and over down a rocky slope. He clutched out wildly, and managed to catch hold of several bushes. But these came out by the roots, and then he slid downward once more, at last reaching a little cliff over which he plunged sideways, to land with a crash in some bushes and stunted trees some distance below.
The rolling and the drop over the cliff had all but stunned the young civil engineer, and for fully five minutes he lay among the bushes hardly realizing where he was or what had happened. Then, when he finally arose to his feet, he found that his left shoulder hurt him not a little, and that his left ankle felt equally painful and was quite lame.
“That certainly was some tumble,” he groaned to himself. “I suppose I can be thankful I wasn’t killed.”
Dave found himself rolling over and over down a rocky slope.—Page 74.
He had rolled a distance of fifty yards, and the top of the little cliff was six or eight feet above his 75head. From where he stood he could not see that portion of the trail where the encounter had occurred, and consequently he knew not what had become of Nick Jasniff.
“I hope he rolled down, too,” murmured Dave to himself. But after he had taken a good look around he concluded that Jasniff had remained up on the trail.
The only thing to do was to climb up to the trail and try to find out what had become of Jasniff and the horse.
“It would be just like Jasniff to take Sport and ride off with him,” thought Dave dismally. “What a fool I was not to give him a knock-out blow when I had him down on the rocks! If I had given him that I could have made him a prisoner before he had a chance to regain his senses. Now he’s got the best of it, and there is no telling what he’s up to.”
More anxious to know what had become of his horse than over Jasniff’s welfare, Dave moved around to one end of the cliff and then began to scramble up the rocks. This was by no means easy, and more than once he had to stop to catch his breath and nurse his hurt shoulder and his lame ankle. Up above him he could now see the trail, but neither Jasniff nor the horse was in sight.
At last Dave had the satisfaction of drawing himself up over the rocks bordering the edge of 76the trail, and here, feeling rather weak, he sat down to regain his strength. He listened intently, but scarcely a sound broke the silence of the mountains. Evidently Nick Jasniff had taken time by the forelock and made good his departure.
“If he took that horse, what am I to do?” mused Dave bitterly. “To foot it all the way to Orella, and especially with this lame ankle, is almost out of the question.”
Thinking of Orella put Dave in mind of his mission, and he quickly thrust his hand into his pocket to see if the envelope Mr. Obray had given him to deliver was safe.
The next instant his heart almost stopped beating. The envelope was gone!
Frantically he searched one pocket after another; and then he made another discovery equally dismaying. Not only was the envelope the construction camp manager had given him missing, but likewise the letters he had received from Jessie and his Uncle Dunston, and also his pocketbook which had contained upward of forty dollars.
“Gone!”
This was the one word which burst from Dave’s lips as he searched one pocket after another in rapid succession. Then he arose to his feet, to hurry up and down the trail in the vicinity where the encounter with Jasniff had occurred. But though he looked everywhere, not a trace of the documents, the letters, or his pocketbook could be found.
An examination showed that his coat was torn in several places and that the side of one of the pockets had likewise been rent. But whether this damage had been caused by the fight or when he had rolled down over the rocks, he could not determine.
“I guess I got pretty well mussed up in the fight, and the fall down the rocks finished the job,” he muttered to himself.
He was much disheartened, and felt bitter against Nick Jasniff. Whether the rascal had picked up the articles lost and made off with them was, however, a question.
78“If I lost them up here on the trail he probably took them,” Dave reasoned. “But if they fell out of my pockets when I rolled down the rocks and over the cliff, they must be scattered somewhere between here and the place where I landed in the bushes.”
Dave felt much perplexed, not knowing whether it would be better to try to find Jasniff or to make a search in the vicinity where he had had the fall.
“I suppose it would be sheer nonsense to try to follow Jasniff on foot if he went off on my horse,” the young civil engineer reasoned. “I might as well take a look down below and make sure that I didn’t drop those things when I fell.”
With his hurt shoulder and lame ankle, it was almost as much of a task to get down the rocks as it had been to climb up. As well as he was able, he took the same course he had followed in the fall, and he kept his eyes wide open for the things he had lost. But five minutes of slipping and sliding brought him to the top of the little cliff without seeing anything but dirt, rocks, and bushes. Then he had to make a wide detour to get to the bottom of the cliff.
“I suppose it’s a wild-goose chase, and I’ll have my work for my pains,” he grumbled. “Oh, rats! Why did I have to fall in with Jasniff on this trip? I wish that fellow was at the North 79Pole or down among the Hottentots, or somewhere where he couldn’t bother me!”
Dave began to search around in the vicinity of the spot where he had fallen. He was almost ready to give up in despair when his eye caught sight of a white-looking object some distance below. Eagerly he climbed down to the place where the object lay, and the next moment set up a cry of joy.
“Hurrah! Here are Mr. Obray’s documents!” he exclaimed. “I hope they are all right.”
A hasty inspection convinced him that the legal-looking envelope and its contents were intact. Having inspected them carefully, he placed the packet inside of his shirt.
“I won’t take any more chances with it,” he told himself. “Somebody will have to rip my clothing off to get that envelope away.”
With the envelope safe in his possession once more, Dave felt exceedingly light-hearted. But the letter from Jessie, as well as the communication from Uncle Dunston, and the pocketbook with the forty odd dollars in it, were still missing, and he spent some time looking for those things.
“It doesn’t matter so much about the letters, even though I hate to part with the one from Jessie,” he reasoned. “But I’d like to set my eyes 80on that pocketbook with the forty-two or forty-three dollars it held.”
But our hero’s success had come to an end with the finding of the envelope to be delivered at Orella; and although he searched around for a quarter of an hour longer, nothing of any value came to sight. Then, with a deep sigh, he pulled himself up once more to the trail, and set off on a hunt for his horse.
“Jasniff was headed in the opposite direction, and maybe he didn’t go after Sport,” Dave argued to himself. “Anyhow, I’ve got to go that way, even if I have to journey on foot.”
Painfully our hero limped along, for the climbing up and down on the rocks had done the lame ankle no good. He had had to loosen his shoe, for the ankle had swollen not a little.
“If I could only bathe it it wouldn’t be so bad,” he thought.
But there was no water at hand, and the small quantity he carried in a flask for drinking purposes was too precious to be used on the injured limb.
He had covered several yards when his lame ankle gave him such a twinge that he had to sit down to give it a rest.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t find that horse,” he thought bitterly.
He was sitting and nursing the hurt ankle and looking over the landscape in the valley below him, 81when something on one of the bushes less than fifty feet away caught his eye.
“I wonder what that can be,” he mused. “It doesn’t look like a bird’s nest. It looks more like an old shoe. I wonder——Can it be my pocketbook?”
The last thought was so electrifying that Dave leaped to his feet, and, regardless of the painful ankle, walked over to the edge of the trail. Here he could see the object quite plainly, and he lost no time in crawling down to the bushes and obtaining it.
It was indeed his pocketbook, but wide open and empty. Even the few cards and slips of paper it had contained were missing.
“This proves one thing,” he reasoned bitterly. “Jasniff picked that pocketbook up where we had the fight, and he came this way while he was emptying it, then he threw it away.”
Dave was also sure of another thing. The pocketbook and the two letters had been in the same pocket, and he felt certain that Nick Jasniff had also confiscated the two communications.
“Now the question is, if he came this way, did he get Sport?” Dave mused. “If he did, then it’s good-bye to the letters, the money and the horse.”
Placing the empty wallet in his pocket, Dave sat down and rested his lame ankle. He counted the 82loose change in his trousers’ pocket and found he had eighty-five cents. Then he limped on once more around another bend in the trail.
Here a sight filled him with satisfaction. At this point the rocks came to an end and there was a fairly good bit of pasture-land, and here stood Sport, feeding away as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“Good old Sport!” cried Dave, going up to the animal and patting him affectionately. “I’m mighty glad you didn’t run any farther, and doubly glad Nick Jasniff didn’t get you. Now, old boy, we’ll be on our way and try to make up for lost time;” and in a moment more our hero was in the saddle and galloping off in the direction of Orella.
Dave surmised that Nick Jasniff had come in that direction looking for the horse, but without finding Sport. At the same time, the rascal had rifled the pocketbook and then thrown it in the bushes. Then, thinking the horse had gone a much greater distance, Jasniff had retraced his steps and continued on his way in the direction of the construction camp.
“But he can’t be bound for the camp, for Mr. Obray warned him to keep away,” thought our hero. “It must be that he is headed either for some of the mining camps or ranches, or the railroad station.”
Our hero felt that it would be next to useless 83for him to go to the Double Eight Ranch, where Nick Jasniff was employed, and accuse him of the theft. The fellow would probably deny everything—even the meeting on the road. And as there had been no witnesses to the transaction, there the case would have to rest.
“Just the same, when I get the chance, I’ll let the manager of the Double Eight Ranch know what sort of fellow Jasniff is,” Dave said to himself. “Maybe that crowd over there won’t want a prison bird around any more than we wanted him at the construction camp.”
Our hero had been right in regard to finding the pocketbook and letters. After Dave had disappeared over the edge of the cliff below the trail, Nick Jasniff had looked around to find his hat, which had fallen off in the struggle. As he picked this up he had noticed the pocketbook and the two letters.
“Maybe there’s something in that pocketbook worth keeping,” he had muttered to himself, as he tried to stop the flow of blood from his bruised nose. “And I guess I’m entitled to anything I can get from Dave Porter. I hope he broke every bone in his body by that fall.”
He waited for a minute to see if Dave would reappear, and then hurried along the trail, thinking he could find and mount our hero’s horse. He quickly transferred the forty-three dollars he 84found in the wallet to his own pocket, and then threw the pocketbook away in the spot where Dave picked it up.
“I guess it’s no use to look any farther,” Jasniff had muttered to himself on failing to locate the horse. “Gee! I’m glad I struck this forty-three dollars! That amount with the thirty I had before will see me a long distance on my way.”
And thereupon he had hurried back past the spot where the encounter had taken place, and then along the trail to where there was a fork—one branch leading down to the construction camp, and the other off in the direction of some mines and the nearest railroad station.
Although our hero did not know it, Jasniff had had another quarrel earlier in the day. A miner operating near the Double Eight Ranch had the night before fallen in with several of the men employed by the Mentor Construction Company, and from them had learned the particulars concerning the fellow who had gotten out of prison.
This news had been carried to James Dackley, the manager of the Double Eight, and Dackley, who was naturally a hot-headed man, had become furious over the thought of being so deceived by Jasniff.
“I only took him on because I thought he was a tenderfoot and was hard up for a job,” Dackley had growled. “He told such a straight story that 85I swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker. I don’t want such a fellow around here any more than they want him over to the railroad camp. Just have Nolan send him to me, and I’ll soon send him about his business.”
Thereupon Nick Jasniff had been summoned from the bunk-house to the main building on the Double Eight Ranch and been closely questioned by James Dackley. He had denied everything, but the ranch manager had refused almost to listen to him.
“I’m going to investigate this,” said Dackley, “and if the story is true, the sooner you get out the better I’ll be pleased.”
Nick Jasniff had well understood that the truth would come out in the near future; and knowing how passionate James Dackley could become on occasion, he had lost no time in packing his few belongings and asking for his pay. This had been given to him, and he had thereupon set out on his journey toward the railroad station on foot—Dackley refusing to give him the loan of a horse.
Nick Jasniff had come to the conclusion that it would be best for him to quit the neighborhood. He had thirty dollars in his pocket, and this added to the forty-three taken from Dave’s pocketbook made quite a sum.
“There’s no use of my staying here in the West,” he reasoned. “There are far more 86chances in the East for a fellow like me. Maybe I’ll find some of the fellows I used to know out there, and we can pull off some stunts worth while.”
With several miles placed between him and the place where he had had the encounter with Dave, Nick Jasniff sat down to rest and at the same time look over the letters he had picked up. There was a cynical sneer on his face as he read the communication from Jessie to Dave.
“It’s enough to make a fellow sick to think such a rich girl as that should take to a fellow like Dave Porter,” he murmured to himself. “Wouldn’t I like to put a spoke in that fellow’s wheel! I wonder if I couldn’t do something to come between Porter and the Wadsworths? I owe old man Wadsworth something for sending me to prison.”
Then Nick Jasniff turned to the letter written by Dunston Porter. The beginning of this did not interest him greatly, but he read with interest what Dave’s uncle had written concerning the gypsies who had camped out on the outskirts of Crumville.
“Got into a row with a couple of gypsies, eh?” he mused. “I reckon that’s something worth remembering. Maybe those fellows wouldn’t mind joining me in some kind of a game against the Wadsworths. Maybe we could put one over and 87make a lot of money out of it. Anyway, it’s something worth thinking about;” and thereupon Nick Jasniff grew very thoughtful as he proceeded on his way to the railroad station.
It was two o’clock in the afternoon when Dave rode into Orella. This was a typical mining town of Montana, containing but a single street with stores, the majority of which were but one story in height. Back of this street were probably half a hundred cabins standing at all sorts of angles toward the landscape; and beyond these were the mines.
Just previous to entering the town Dave had stopped at a wayside spring and there washed up. Before that he had brushed himself off as well as he was able, so that when he entered the place the only evidences he carried of the encounter with Nick Jasniff were some scratches on the back of his hand and a small swelling on his left cheek.
The first person he met directed him to the offices of the Orella Mining Company, of which Mr. Raymond Carson was the general manager.
“Is Mr. Carson in?” he questioned of the clerk who came forward to interview him.
“He is,” was the answer. “Who shall I say wants to see him?”
89“My name is Porter, and I was sent here to see him by Mr. Obray of the Mentor Construction Company.”
“Oh, then I guess you can go right in,” returned the clerk, and showed the way to a private office in the rear of the building.
Here Mr. Raymond Carson sat at his desk writing out some telegrams. Dave quickly introduced himself and brought forth the legal-looking envelope which had been intrusted to him. The manager of the mining company tore it open and looked over the contents with care.
“Very good—just what I was waiting for,” he announced. “You can tell Mr. Obray I am much obliged for his promptness.”
“Would you mind giving me a receipt for the papers?” questioned the young civil engineer.
“Not at all.” The mining company manager called in one of the clerks. “Here, take down a receipt,” and he dictated what he wished to say.
Dave at first thought he might tell of how close he had come to losing the documents, but then considered that it might not be wise to mention the occurrence. The receipt was written out and signed and passed over.
“How are matters coming along over at your camp?” questioned Mr. Raymond Carson with a smile.
“Oh, we are doing very well, everything considered,” 90was Dave’s reply. “We are having a little trouble on account of some of the rocks in Section Six. They are afraid of a landslide. We’ve got to build two bridges there, and our engineers are going to have their own troubles getting the proper foundations.”
“Yes, that’s a great section for landslides. I was out there mining once, and we had some of the worst cave-ins I ever heard about.”
“There is practically no mining around there now,” ventured Dave.
“No. The returns were not sufficient to warrant operations. Some time, however, I think somebody will open up a vein there that will be worth while.”
A few words more passed concerning the work of the construction company, and then Dave prepared to leave. Just as he was about to step out of the office, however, he turned.
“By the way, Mr. Carson, may I ask if there was a young fellow about my own age here during the past week or two looking for a job—a fellow who said his name was Jasper Nicholas?”
“A young fellow about your age named Nicholas?” mused the mine manager. “Let me see. Did he have a cast in one eye?”
“The fellow I mean squints a good deal with one of his eyes. He is rather tall and lanky.”
91“Yes, he was here. He wanted a job in the mines. Said he didn’t think he was cut out for office work. But somehow or other I didn’t like his looks. Is he a friend of yours?”
“He is not!” declared Dave quickly. “In fact, he is just the opposite. And what is more, he is a thief and has served a term in prison.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the mine manager. “Are you sure of this?”
“Positive, sir. His real name is Nicholas Jasniff. Some years ago he and another fellow stole some valuable jewels from a jewelry works. I aided in capturing him and sending him to prison.”
“Humph! If that’s the case I am glad I didn’t hire him. As I said before, I didn’t like his looks at all, and out here we go about as much on looks as we do on anything.”
“He came to our camp, but Mr. Obray soon sent him about his business,” said Dave.
After talking the matter over for a few minutes longer, but without mentioning the attack on the trail, Dave rode away. At the end of the street he stopped at a general store, which contained a drug department, and while giving his horse a chance to feed, there obtained some liniment with which he rubbed his lame shoulder and his hurt ankle. Then, having obtained a bottle of lemon-soda with which to quench his thirst, 92and help along his supper when he should stop to eat it, our hero set off on the return to the construction camp.
By the time Dave reached the spot where the encounter with Jasniff had occurred, it was growing somewhat dark on the trail. Over to the westward the mountains were much taller than those where the trail ran, and the deep shadows were creeping upward from the valley below. Soon the orb of day sank out of sight, and then the darkness increased.
So far on the return Dave had met but two men—old prospectors who had paid scant attention to him as he passed. He had stopped at a convenient point to eat what remained of the lunch he had brought along, washing it down with the lemon-soda. Presently he came to a fork in the trail, and by a signboard placed there knew that he was now less than four miles from the construction camp.
The hard ride had tired the young civil engineer greatly, and he was glad enough to let Sport move forward on a walk. The horse, too, had found the journey a hard one, and was well content to progress at a reduced rate of speed.
The narrow portion of the footway having been left behind, horse and rider came out into something of a hollow on the mountainside. Here and there were a number of loose rocks and also quite 93a growth of scrub timber. Dave was just passing through the densest of the timber when an overhanging branch caught his hat and sent it to the ground.
“Whoa there, Sport!” he cried, and bringing his horse to a halt, he leaped down to recover the hat.
Dave had just picked up the head covering when he heard a low sound coming from some bushes close at hand. It was not unlike the cry of a cat, and the youth was instantly on the alert. He remembered only too well how, when he had been at Star Ranch, a wildcat, commonly called in that section a bobcat, had gotten among the horses belonging to himself and his chums and caused no end of trouble.
The cry was followed by several seconds of intense silence, and then came the unmistakable snarl of a bobcat, followed instantly by a leap on the part of Sport.
“Whoa there!” cried Dave, and was just in time to catch the horse by the bridle. Then Sport veered around and kicked out viciously at the brushwood.
The bobcat was there, and evidently had no chance to retreat farther, the bushes being backed up by a number of high rocks. With a snarl, it leaped out into the open directly beside the horse and Dave. Then, as the horse switched around 94again and let fly with his hind hoofs, the bobcat made a flying leap past Dave, landing in the branches of a nearby tree.
“Whoa there, Sport!” cried the youth, and now lost no time in leaping into the saddle. In the meanwhile the bobcat sprang from one limb of the tree to another and disappeared behind some dense foliage.
Had our hero had a rifle or a shotgun, he might have gone on a hunt for the beast. But he carried only his small automatic, and he did not consider this a particularly good weapon with which to stir up the bobcat. He went on his way, and now Sport set off on a gallop, evidently glad to leave such a dangerous vicinity behind. Although horses are much larger, bobcats are such vicious animals that no horses care to confront them.
“I sure am having my fill of adventures to-day,” mused Dave grimly. “First Nick Jasniff, and now that bobcat! I’ll have to tell the others about the cat, and maybe we can organize a hunt and lay the beast low. The men won’t want to face a bobcat while at work any more than they would care to face that rattlesnake I shot.”
It was not long after this when the lights of the construction camp came into view, and soon Dave was riding down among the buildings. Roger was on the watch, and came forward to greet him.
95“Had a safe trip, I see!” called out the senator’s son. “Good enough!”
“I had a safe trip in one way if not in another,” announced Dave. “Two things didn’t suit me at all. I met Nick Jasniff, and then I also met a bobcat.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Roger. “Tell me about it.”
“I want to report to Mr. Obray first, Roger. If you want to go along you can.”
Dave found the construction camp manager at the doorway of the cabin he occupied, reading a newspaper which was several days old. He, as well as Roger, listened with keen interest to what our hero had to relate.
“And so that rascal took your forty-odd dollars, did he?” exclaimed Ralph Obray, when Dave was telling the story. “He certainly is a bad egg.”
“I’m mighty glad he didn’t get away with your papers, Mr. Obray,” answered our hero soberly. “Of course, I don’t know how valuable they were, but I presume they were worth a good deal more than the contents of my pocketbook.”
“You are right there, Porter. The documents would be hard to duplicate. And I’m mighty glad they are safe in Mr. Carson’s hands and that we have the receipt for them. Now, in regard to your losing your money: If we can’t get it back 96from this fellow Jasniff, I’ll see what the company can do toward reimbursing you.”
“Oh, I sha’n’t expect that, Mr. Obray!” cried the youth. “It was no concern of yours that I was robbed.”
“I don’t know about that. If you hadn’t taken that trip for us, this Jasniff might not have gotten the chance to take your money. In one way, I think it is up to the company to make the loss good; and I’ll put it up to the home office in my next report.”
“You certainly ought to let the people at Double Eight Ranch know what sort Jasniff is!” cried Roger.
“Of course, I can’t prove that he took the money,” returned Dave. “There were no witnesses to what occurred, and I suppose he would claim that his word was as good as mine.”
“But we know it isn’t!” burst out the senator’s son indignantly. “He’s a rascal, and I intend that everybody around here shall know it!”
“You certainly had your share of happenings,” was Mr. Obray’s comment. “It was bad enough to have the fight with Jasniff without running afoul of that wildcat. You ought to have brought him down with your pistol, as you did that rattlesnake,” and he smiled broadly.
“I didn’t get a chance for a shot,” explained Dave. “I had to grab the horse for fear he 97would run away and leave me to walk to the camp. And besides, the wildcat moved about as quickly as I can tell about it.”
“Maybe we can form a party and round the wildcat up,” put in Roger eagerly.
“I was thinking of that, Roger.”
Of course Dave had to tell Frank Andrews about the encounter with Jasniff and also about meeting the wildcat. Several others were present when the story was retold, and soon nearly everybody in the camp was aware of what had taken place.
“I certainly hope you get your money back,” remarked Larry Bond. “Gracious! I wouldn’t like to lose forty-odd dollars out of my pay! I couldn’t afford it.”
“We’ll have to round up that bobcat some day,” said old John Hixon. “If we manage to kill him off, it will discourage others from coming to this neighborhood.”
“Well, any time you say so, I’ll go out with you to try to lay the bobcat low,” answered Dave.
Two days later Dave was hard at work with the others on the mountainside when a gang of six cowboys rode up. They were curious to know some particulars concerning the new railroad spur which was to be put through in that vicinity, and stopped to watch proceedings and to ask a number of questions.
“What ranch do you hail from, boys?” questioned Frank Andrews of the leader of the crowd, a tall, leathery-looking man of about forty.
“We’re from the Double Eight outfit,” was the answer, as the fellow pulled a sheet from a book of papers he carried, filled it with some loose tobacco from a pouch, and proceeded to roll himself a cigarette.
“The Double Eight, eh?” exclaimed the civil engineer. “That is interesting. I think one of my young men here would like to ask you a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“All right, pard, shoot away,” answered the 99cowboy calmly, as he began to puff at his cigarette.
Frank Andrews lost no time in summoning Dave, who was some distance up the trail, and told our hero where the cowboy hailed from.
“I believe you have a fellow staying with you who calls himself Jasper Nicholas,” began Dave.
“We did have a feller with that handle down to our outfit,” responded the cowboy. “But he got fired some days ago.”
“Fired!” cried Dave and Roger simultaneously.
“That’s the size on it, son. He got kind o’ fresh with the boss, and Jim wouldn’t stand for it nohow. I don’t know exactly wot the rumpus was about, but that feller didn’t lose no time vamoosin’.”
“I wish you would tell me some of the particulars about him,” went on Dave. “Then I’ll tell you something that may interest you.”
“I ain’t got much to tell, ’cause I didn’t like the feller, and consequently didn’t have much to do with him. Fact is, he wasn’t in cahoots with nobody around the ranch. He had a hang-dog way about him none of us cottoned to.”
“But I wish you would tell me what you do know,” insisted our hero.
Thereupon the cowboy, who said his name was Pete Sine, told how Nick Jasniff had come to the 100Double Eight Ranch some weeks before with a hard-luck story and had been given a job as an all-around handy man.
“But he wasn’t handy at all,” announced Pete Sine. “Fact is, he was the most unhandy critter I ’most ever met up with. But he told such a pitiful story, the boss and some of the fellers felt sorry for him, so they all done the best they knowed how for him—that is at the start. But he soon showed the yellow streak that was in him, and then, as I said before, the boss got wise to him and fired him. Now what do you know about him?”
Dave, aided by Roger, gave many of the particulars concerning Nick Jasniff’s past doings, and our hero related the details of the fight on the road, and how he had lost the contents of his pocketbook.
“Snortin’ buffaloes!” ejaculated Pete Sine, giving his thigh a resounding slap with his hand. “I knew it! I sized that feller up from the very start. I warned Jim Dackley about him, but Jim was too tender-hearted to see it—that is at first. Now when did this happen?” went on the cowboy. And after Dave had mentioned the day, he continued: “That was the very day the boss fired him!”
“And have you any idea where he went to?” questioned our hero quickly.
101“Not exactly, son. But Fred Gurney, one of our gang who ain’t here just now, got it from the agent over to the railroad depot that the feller took the seven-thirty train that night for Chicago.”
“He must have left Montana for good!” cried Roger. “Dave, I’m afraid you can whistle your forty-odd dollars good-bye.”
“So it would seem, Roger. It’s too bad! But I’m mighty glad Nick Jasniff has cleared out. I’d hate to think he was around here. He would be sure to try to do us some harm.”
“You might send on to Chicago and have him arrested on his arrival there,” suggested Frank Andrews. “That is, if he hasn’t gotten there already.”
“I don’t think it would be worth bothering about,” answered Dave. “It would make a lot of trouble all around; and maybe I would have to go on to Chicago to identify him, and then stay around and push the charge against him. I’d rather let him go and pocket my loss.”
“Maybe you’ll meet up with him some day,” suggested Pete Sine. “And if you do——Well, I know what I’d do to him,” and he tapped his pistol suggestively.
The other cowboys had listened with interest to the talk, and every one of them intimated that he had distrusted Nick Jasniff from the start. Evidently the fellow who had been in prison had 102not created a favorable impression, even though his hard-luck story had brought him some sympathy.
After this occurrence matters moved along quietly for a few days. On Sunday, there being no work to do, old John Hixon and several of the other men went out to look for the bobcat Dave had met on the trail. But though they spent several hours in beating around through the brushwood and the scrub timber, they failed to find the animal.
“Guess he got strayed away from his regular haunts, and then went back,” was Hixon’s comment. “Wild animals do that once in a while. I remember years ago an old hunter told me about a she bear he had met here in Montana. Some time later another hunter, a friend of his’n, told about meetin’ the same bear over in Wyoming. Then, less than a month later, this old hunter I first mentioned met the same bear and killed her. He always wondered how it was that bear got so far away from home and then got back again.”
On Monday morning came more letters from home, and also communications from Phil Lawrence, Ben Basswood and Shadow Hamilton. The letters from Crumville were, as usual, two communications from Laura and Jessie; and in each of these the girls mentioned the fact that Dave’s Uncle Dunston, as well as Mr. Wadsworth 103and Mr. Basswood, had had more trouble with the gypsies who had formerly occupied the vacant land on the outskirts of the town.
“Uncle Dunston says the gypsies were very forward,” wrote Laura. “They said all kinds of mean things and made several threats. One of the old women, who is called Mother Domoza, came here to the house and frightened Jessie and me very much. The folks were away at the time, and I don’t know what we would have done had it not been for dear old Mr. Potts. He was in the library, where, as you know, he spends most of his time, and when he heard the old gypsy denouncing us he came out with his cane in his hand and actually drove her away.”
“Good for Professor Potts!” cried Dave, when Roger read this portion of the letter to him. “I’m glad he sent the old hag about her business.”
The letter from Jessie also contained some references to the gypsies, but had evidently been mailed previous to the trouble with Mother Domoza. Jessie said she was glad that the vacant ground was to be cut up into town lots and built upon, and she sincerely trusted that none of the gypsies would ever come to camp near Crumville again.
“Some of them used to come around and tell fortunes,” wrote Jessie. “But I don’t need to have my fortune told, Dave. I know exactly what 104it is going to be, and I would not have it changed for the world!”
And this part of the letter Dave did not show to Roger; but he read it over many times with great satisfaction.
But all thoughts of the gypsies and of what they might do were forgotten by our hero and Roger when they came to peruse the letters sent by Phil, Ben and Shadow.
“Hurrah! They are on their way at last!” cried Dave, his face beaming with satisfaction. “Ben writes that they were to start within forty-eight hours after this letter was sent.”
“And that is just what Shadow and Phil say, too,” announced the senator’s son. “That being so, they ought to arrive here within the next two days.”
“Right you are, Roger! Oh, say! when they come, won’t we have the best time ever?” exclaimed Dave.
And then, in the exuberance of their spirits, both youths caught hold of each other and did an impromptu war-dance.
“Hello! hello! What’s going on here?” cried Frank Andrews, coming up at that moment. “Have you fellows joined the Hopi Indians?”
“Our three chums are on the way—we expect them here inside of the next two days!” announced Dave.
105“Is that so? I don’t wonder you’re so happy. As I understand it, you fellows were all very close chums.”
“The closest ever!” answered Roger. And then suddenly his face clouded a little. “But oh, Mr. Andrews, what are we going to do with them when they get here? We’ll have to make some sort of arrangements for them.”
“I reckon we can make room one way or another,” answered the older civil engineer. “You know Barry and Lundstrom have left and that gives us two vacant bunks, and we can easily fix up an extra cot here if we want to.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do, if you won’t mind,” announced Dave.
He and Roger had already spoken about the matter to Ralph Obray, and the general manager had given them permission to entertain their chums at the camp for several days if the visitors wished to stay that long. It was, of course, understood that their meals should be paid for, since a report of all expenditures had to be made to the head office.
“I think you fellows have earned a little vacation,” said the manager to the chums. “You have both worked very hard. And I have not forgotten, Porter, how you carried those documents to Orella for me and what a fight you had to get them there in safety.”
106“But understand, Mr. Obray, we don’t expect to be paid for the time we take off,” interposed Roger. “At least I don’t expect to be paid for it.”
“And that is just the way I feel about it,” added Dave.
“You young fellows leave that to me,” answered the construction company manager smilingly. “I’ll take care of that. I can remember when I was a young fellow and had my friends come to see me. You go on and show your chums all the sights, and have the best time possible, and then, when they are gone, I’ll expect you to work so much the harder to make up for it. I think you see what I mean.”
“And we’ll do it—take my word on it!” answered Dave heartily.
“Indeed we will!” echoed Roger.
During the next two days the chums were so anxious awaiting the coming of the others that they could hardly attend to their work. They saw to it that quarters were made in readiness for the three who were expected and that Jeff, the cook, would have room for them at one of the dining-tables.
Then, on the morning of the third day, when a telegram came in from the railroad station stating that Phil and the others would arrive by noon, Dave and Roger, taking a lunch along, set off on 107horseback, leading three other horses behind them, to meet the expected visitors.
The ride to the railroad station occurred without mishap, though it was no easy matter to make the three riderless horses follow them at certain points where the trail was rough. But the two chums reached the station with almost an hour to spare.
“And it wasn’t no use for you fellers to hurry,” announced the station master, when he found out what had brought them. “That train is generally from one hour to three hours late.”
“Great Scott! have we got to wait around here three hours?” groaned the senator’s son.
“We might have known the train would be late,” observed Dave. “They usually are on this line.”
Presently the station master went in to receive a telegram. When he came out he announced that the train would be there in less than two hours unless something occurred in the meanwhile to cause a further delay.
The chums put in the time as best they could; but it was slow work, and they consulted their watches every few minutes. At last, however, the time came to a close, and soon they heard a long, low whistle.
“Here she comes!” cried Dave, his heart giving a leap.
108“Let’s give them a cheer as soon as we see them,” suggested the senator’s son.
And then the long train rolled into sight around a bend of the mountains and soon came to a standstill at the little station.
“There they are!”
“This way, boys! Oak Hall to the front!”
A vestibule door to one of the cars had been opened and a porter had come down the steps carrying three suit-cases. He was followed by three young men, who waved their hands gayly at Dave and Roger.
“Here at last!” sang out Phil Lawrence, as he rushed forward to catch our hero with one hand and the senator’s son with the other.
“Some city you fellows have here,” criticized Ben Basswood, with a broad grin, as he waited for his turn to “pump handle” his friends.
“Say!” burst out the third new arrival, as he too came forward. “Calling a little, dinky station like this a city puts me in mind of a story. Once some travelers journeyed to the interior of Africa, and——”
“Hello! What do you know about that?” sang out Dave gayly. “Shadow has started to tell a story before he even says ‘how-do-you-do’!”
110“Why, Shadow!” remonstrated Roger in an apparently injured tone of voice. “We heard that you had given up telling stories entirely.”
“Smoked herring! Who told you such a yarn as that?” burst out Phil.
“I don’t intend to give up telling stories,” announced Shadow Hamilton calmly. “I’ve got a brand new lot; haven’t I, fellows? I bet Dave and Roger never heard that one about the coal.”
“What about the coal, Shadow?” demanded Roger, shaking hands.
“Don’t ask him,” groaned Ben. “He’s told that story twenty-six times since we left home.”
“You’re a base prevaricator, Ben Basswood!” roared the former story-teller of Oak Hall. “I told that story just twice—once to you and once to that drummer from Chicago. And he said he had never heard it before, and that proves it’s a new story, because drummers hear everything.”
“Well, that story has one advantage,” was Phil’s comment. “It’s short.”
“All right then, Shadow; let’s hear it. And then tell us all about yourself,” said Dave quickly.
“It isn’t quite as much of a story as it’s a conundrum,” began Shadow Hamilton. “Once a small boy who was very inquisitive went to his aunt in the country and helped her hunt for eggs. Then he said he would like to go down into the cellar. ‘Why do you want to go in the cellar, Freddy?’ 111asked the aunt. ‘I want to go down to look at the egg coal,’ announced the little boy. ‘And then I want to see what kind of chickens lay it.’” And at this little joke both Dave and Roger had to smile.
No other passengers had left the cars at this station, and now the long train rumbled once more on its way. The station master had gone off to look after some messages, so the former chums of Oak Hall were left entirely to themselves.
“It’s a touch of old times to get together again, isn’t it?” cried Dave gayly, as he placed one arm over Phil’s shoulder and the other arm around Ben. “You can’t imagine how glad I am to see all of you.”
“I am sure the feeling is mutual, Dave,” answered Phil. “I’ve missed you fellows dreadfully since we separated.”
“I sometimes wish we were all back at Oak Hall again,” sighed Ben. “My, what good times we did have!”
“I guess you’ll be glad enough to reach Star Ranch, Phil,” went on Dave, giving the ship-owner’s son a nudge in the ribs. “Probably Belle Endicott will be waiting for you with open arms.”
“Sour grapes, Dave. I know where you’d like to be,” retorted Phil, his face reddening. “You’d like to be in Crumville with Jessie Wadsworth—and 112Roger would like to be in the same place, with your sister.”
“Have you fellows had your lunch?” questioned Roger, to change the subject.
“Yes. When we found out that the train was going to be late, we went into the dining-car as soon as it opened,” answered Ben. “How about you?”
“We brought something along and ate it while we were waiting for you,” said the senator’s son. “Come on, it’s quite a trip to the construction camp. We came over on horseback, and we brought three horses for you fellows.”
“Good enough!” cried Shadow. “But what are we going to do with our suit-cases?”
“You’ll have to tie those on somehow,” announced Dave. “We brought plenty of straps along.”
As the five chums got ready for the trip to the construction camp, Dave and Roger were told of many things that had happened to the others during the past few weeks. In return they told about themselves and the encounter with Nick Jasniff.
“A mighty bad egg, that Jasniff,” was Phil’s comment.
“The worst ever,” added Shadow.
“Mr. Dunston Porter and the girls didn’t tell you half of the story about those gypsies,” said Ben. “Those fellows tried to make all sorts of 113trouble for us. They tried to prove that they had a right to camp on that land, and my father and your uncle had to threaten them with the law before they went away. Since that time several of the gypsies have been in town, and they have made a number of threats to get square. That old hag, Mother Domoza, is particularly wrathful. She insists that she got the right to camp there as long as she pleased from some party who used to own a part of the land.”
“Where are the gypsies hanging out now?” questioned Dave.
“Somebody told me they were camping on the edge of Coburntown.”
“You don’t say! That’s the place where I had so much trouble with the storekeepers on account of Ward Porton’s buying so many things in my name.”
“If I were living in Coburntown, I’d keep my eyes open for those gypsies,” declared Ben. “I wouldn’t trust any of them any farther than I could see them. Ever since they camped on the outskirts of Crumville folks have suspected them of raiding hencoops and of other petty thieving. They never caught them at it, so they couldn’t prove it. But my father was sure in his own mind that they were guilty.”
“Yes, and I remember a year or so ago some of the gypsy women came around our place to tell 114fortunes,” added Dave. “They went into the kitchen to tell the fortunes of the cook and the up-stairs girl, and two days later the folks found that two silver spoons and a gold butter-knife were missing. We made some inquiries, but we never got any satisfaction.”
“Looking for stuff like that is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” was Phil’s comment.
“Oh, say! Speaking of a needle in a haystack puts me in mind of a story,” burst out Shadow.
“What! another?” groaned Roger in mock dismay; and all of the others present held up their hands as if in horror.
“This is just a little one,” pleaded the former story-teller of Oak Hall. “A man once heard a lady speak about trying to find the needle in the haystack. ‘Say, madam,’ said the man, very earnestly, ‘a needle in a haystack wouldn’t be no good to nobody. If one of the animals got it in his throat, it would ’most kill ’im.’”
“Wow!”
“Does anybody see the point?” questioned Roger.
“What do you mean—the point of the needle?” demanded Dave.
“If you had the eye you could see better,” suggested Ben.
“I don’t care, it’s a pretty good joke,” protested the story-teller.
115“Hurrah! Shadow is stuck on the needle joke!” announced Dave. “Anyhow, it would seem so.”
“Jumping tadpoles!” ejaculated Roger. “Boys, did you catch that?”
“Catch what?” asked Phil innocently.
“Phil wasn’t born a tailor, so maybe he never knew what it was to seam sew anything.”
“Whoop! I’ll pummel you for that!” roared the ship-owner’s son, and made a sweep at Dave with his suit-case.
But the latter dodged, and the suit-case landed with a bang on Shadow’s shoulder, sending the story-teller to the ground.
“Say, Phil Lawrence, you be careful!” cried the prostrate youth, as he scrambled up. “What do you think I am—a punching-bag?”
“Ten thousand pardons, Shadow, and then some!” cried the ship-owner’s son contritely. “I was aiming to put Dave in the hospital, that’s all.”
“Come on and get busy and let us be off to the camp,” broke in Roger. “We’ll have plenty of time for horse-play later. We want to show you fellows a whole lot of things.”
Dave insisted upon carrying one of the suit-cases, while Roger took another. Soon all of the hand-baggage was securely fastened to the saddles of the horses, and then the boys started on the journey to the construction camp. They took 116their time, and numerous were the questions asked and answered on the way.
“Yes, I’m doing first class in business with dad,” announced Phil. “We are going to buy an interest in another line of ships, and dad says that in another year he will put me at the head of our New York offices. Then I’ll be a little nearer to Crumville than I was before.”
“I’m glad to hear of your success, Phil,” said Dave. “I don’t know of any fellow who deserves it more than you do.”
“Sometimes I wish I had taken up civil engineering, just to be near you and Roger,” went on the ship-owner’s son wistfully. “But then, I reckon I wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing. I love the work I am at very much.”
“I suppose some day, Phil, you’ll be settling down with Belle Endicott,” went on our hero in a low tone of voice, so that the others could not hear.
“I don’t know about that, Dave,” was the thoughtful answer. “Belle is a splendid girl, and I know she thinks a good deal of me. But her father is a very rich man, and she has a host of young fellows tagging after her. There is one man out in Denver, who is almost old enough to be her father, who has asked Mr. Endicott for her hand in marriage.”
“But Belle doesn’t want him, does she?”
117“I don’t think so. But she teases me about him a good deal, and I must confess I don’t like it. That’s one reason why I am going out to Star Ranch.”
“Well, you fix it up, Phil—I know you can do it,” answered Dave emphatically. “You know Jessie and Laura are writing to Belle continually; and I know for a fact that Belle thinks more of you than she does of anybody else.”
“I hope what you say is true, Dave,” answered the ship-owner’s son wistfully.
Naturally a bright and energetic youth with no hesitation when it came to business matters, Phil was woefully shy now that matters between himself and the girl at Star Ranch had reached a crisis.
In their letters Dave and Roger had told their chums much about the Mentor Construction Company and what it proposed to do in that section of Montana. They had also written some details concerning the camp and the persons to be met there, so that when the party came in sight of the place the visitors felt fairly well at home. They were met by Frank Andrews, who was speedily introduced to them, and were then taken to the offices.
“I’m very glad to meet all of you,” said Mr. Obray, shaking hands at the introduction. “Porter and Morr have told me all about you; and 118I’ve told them to do what they can to make you feel at home during your stay. There is only one thing I would like to caution you about,” went on the manager, who occasionally liked to have his little joke. “Don’t under any circumstances carry away any of our important engineering secrets and give them to our rivals.”
“You can trust us on that point,” answered Phil readily. “All we expect to carry away from here is the recollection of a grand good time.”
“Oh, say! That puts me in mind of a story,” burst out Shadow enthusiastically. “Once a man——”
“Oh, Shadow!” remonstrated Roger.
“I hardly think Mr. Obray has time to listen to a story,” reminded Dave.
“Sure, I’ve got time to listen if the story isn’t a long one,” broke in the manager.
“Well—er—it—er—isn’t so very much of a story,” answered Shadow lamely. “It’s about a fellow who told his friends how he had been hunting ostriches in Mexico.”
“Ostriches in Mexico!” repeated Mr. Obray doubtfully.
“Yes. A man told his friends that he had been hunting ostriches in Mexico with great success. His friends swallowed the story for several days, and then began to make an investigation. Then they went to the man and said: ‘See here. 119You said you had been hunting ostriches in Mexico. There are no ostriches there.’ ‘I know it,’ said the man calmly. ‘I killed them all.’” And at this story the manager laughed heartily. Then he dismissed the crowd, for he had much work ahead.
“A nice man to work for,” was Ben’s comment, when the visitors were being shown to their quarters in the bunk-houses.
“As nice a man as ever lived, Ben,” answered Dave. “Roger and I couldn’t have struck it better.”
“I know I’m going to enjoy myself here,” announced Shadow. “All of your gang seem so pleasant.”
“And I want to learn something about civil engineering,” announced Ben. “Maybe some day I’ll take it up myself.”
The next morning all of the former Oak Hall chums were up by sunrise. As Dave had said, they wanted to make the most of their time.
“It’s a beautiful location,” was Phil’s comment, as he stood out on the edge of the camp and surveyed the surroundings.
On one side were the tall mountains and on the other the broad valley, with the little winding river shimmering like a thread of silver in the sunlight.
“Nice place to erect a bungalow,” added Ben.
“What are you thinking of, Ben—erecting bungalows and selling off town lots?” queried Roger slyly.
“Oh, I didn’t get as far as that,” laughed the son of the Crumville real estate dealer. “Just the same, after your railroad gets into operation somebody might start a summer colony here.”
The visitors were shown around the camp, and at the ringing of the breakfast bell were led by Roger and Dave into the building where the meals 121were served. And there all did full justice to the cooking of Jeff and his assistant.
The youths had talked the matter over the evening before, and it had been decided to take an all-day trip on horseback along the line of the proposed railroad.
“We’ll show you just what we are trying to do,” Roger had said. “Then you’ll get some idea of what laying out a new railroad in a country like this means.”
“I wish I could have gone down to the Rio Grande when Ben went down,” remarked Phil. “I would like to have seen that new Catalco Bridge your company put up there.”
“It certainly was a fine bit of engineering work!” cried Ben. He turned to Dave. “You don’t expect to put up any bridge like that here, do you?”
“Not just like that, Ben. Here we are going to put up fifteen or twenty bridges. None of them, however, will be nearly as long as the Catalco Bridge. But some of them will be considerably higher. In one place we expect to erect a bridge three hundred feet long which, at one point, will be over four hundred feet high.”
A substantial lunch had been packed up for them by the cook, and with this stowed safely away in some saddlebags, the five youths set out from the construction camp, Dave, with Phil at his side, 122leading the way, and the others following closely.
Every one felt in tiptop spirits, and consequently the talk was of the liveliest kind, with many a joke and hearty laugh. Shadow Hamilton was allowed full sway, and told a story whenever the least opportunity presented itself.
“Some mountains around here, and no mistake,” observed Phil, after they had climbed to the top of one stretch of the winding trail and there come to a halt to rest the horses.
“That climb would be a pretty hard one for an auto,” observed Ben. “It’s worse than some of the climbs we had to take when we were making that tour through the Adirondacks to Bear Camp.”
“Oh, say! Speaking of climbing a hill in an auto puts me in mind of a story!” burst out Shadow eagerly. “A man got a new automobile of which he was very proud, and took out one of his friends, a rather nervous individual, to show him what the auto could do. They rode quite a distance, and then the man started to go up a steep hill. He had a terrible time reaching the top, the auto almost refusing to make it. But at last, when he did get up, he turned to his friend and said: ‘Some hill, eh? But we took it just the same.’ To this the nervous man answered: ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. If I hadn’t put on the hand-brake good and hard, you would have slipped 123back sure.’” And at this little joke the others smiled.
Having rested, the party proceeded on the way once more, and Dave and Roger pointed out what had been done toward surveying the new line and where the bridges and culverts were to be constructed; and they even drew little diagrams on a pad Dave carried, to show how some of the bridges were going to be erected.
“It certainly is a great business,” was Phil’s comment. “I should think it would be pretty hard to learn.”
“It is hard, Phil. But we are bound to do it,” answered Dave. “We are going to learn all about surveying and draughtsmanship, and in the meantime we are brushing up on geometry and trigonometry, and half a dozen other things that pertain to civil engineering. We’ve got a great many things to learn yet, before we’ll be able to tackle a job on our own hook,” he added, with a little smile.
From time to time the youths talked about the days spent at Oak Hall and of what had become of numerous schoolfellows. The visitors discussed the doings of Nick Jasniff in that vicinity, and they wondered what that rascal would do next.
“Like the proverbial bad penny, he’ll be sure to turn up again sooner or later,” was Phil’s comment.
124“I’m afraid you’re right,” sighed Dave.
Thinking that they might possibly spot a bobcat or some other wild animal, Dave had brought a double-barreled shotgun along, and Roger carried old Hixon’s rifle. The others were armed with small automatic pistols, purchased especially to be carried on the trip to Star Ranch.
“But I don’t suppose we’ll sight anything worth shooting now we’re armed,” remarked our hero. “That’s the way it usually is.”
Noon found the chums in the very heart of the mountains. They had been told by Hixon where they could find a fine camping-spot close to a spring of pure, cold water; and there they tethered their horses and proceeded to make themselves at home. They had brought along some coffee and a pot to make it in, and presently they started a small fire for that purpose.
“A fellow could certainly camp out here and have a dandy time,” remarked Ben, when the odor of the coffee permeated the camp. “There must be plenty of game somewhere in these mountains and plenty of fish in the streams.”
“Yes, the streams are full of fish,” answered Roger. “But about the game, I am not so sure. There are plenty of birds and other small things, but big game, like deer, bear, and mountain lions are growing scarcer and scarcer every year, so Hixon says. He thinks that every time a gun is 125fired it drives the big game farther and farther back from the trails.”
The youths brought out their lunch from the saddlebags, and when the coffee was ready they sat down to enjoy their midday repast. The long horseback ride of the morning had whetted their appetites, and with little to do, they took their time over the meal.
“Let’s take a walk around this neighborhood before we continue the ride,” said Roger, when they were repacking their things. “I’m a bit tired of sitting in the saddle, and had just as lief do some walking.”
Seeing to it that their horses could not get away, the five youths started to climb up the rocks to where the summit of the mountain along which they had been traveling would afford a better view of their surroundings. It was hard work, and they frequently had to help each other along.
“Be careful, Shadow, or you may get a nasty tumble,” cautioned Dave, just before the summit was gained.
“Don’t worry about me, Dave,” panted the former story-teller of Oak Hall. “I know enough to hang on when I’m climbing in a place like this. I’m not like the fellow in the story who let go to spit on his hands.”
From the summit of the mountain they could see for many miles in every direction, and here 126Ben, who had brought along a pocket camera, insisted upon taking a number of views—two with the others seated on several of the nearby rocks. Then Dave made Ben pose and took two more pictures.
“It’s too bad we can’t take a picture of Ben shooting a bear or a wildcat,” remarked Roger. “That would be a great one to take home and show the folks.”
“I’d rather have a picture of you and Dave building one of those big bridges you spoke about,” answered the other youth. “Then we could have a couple of copies framed and shipped to Jessie and Laura;” and at this dig Ben had to dodge, for both Dave and Roger picked up bits of rock to shy at him.
“Let’s walk across the summit of this mountain and see what it looks like on the other side,” suggested Shadow. “I suppose we’ve got time enough, haven’t we?”
“We’ve got all the time there is, Shadow,” answered Dave. “It won’t make any difference how late it is when we get back to camp.”
One after another they trudged along through the underbrush and among the loose stones on the mountain summit, which was a hundred yards or more in diameter. In some places they had to pick their way with care, for there were numerous cracks and hollows.
127“A fellow doesn’t want to go down into one of those cracks,” remarked Phil, after leaping over an opening which was several feet wide and probably fifteen or twenty feet in depth.
“He’d get a nasty tumble if he did,” answered Roger.
“And he’d have a fine time of it getting out if he chanced to be alone!” broke in our hero.
With the sun shining brightly and not a cloud obscuring the sky, the five chums presently reached the other side of the mountain. Looking down, they saw a heavy wilderness of trees sloping gently down to the hollow below them and then up on the side of the mountain beyond.
“Isn’t that perfectly grand!” murmured Ben. “Just think of the thousands upon thousands of feet of timber in that patch!”
“Yes. And think of all the masts for ships!” added Phil, with a little laugh.
“And flagpoles!” exclaimed Dave. “I guess there would be enough flagpoles in that patch to plant a pole in front of every schoolhouse in the United States.”
“Well, every schoolhouse ought to have a flagpole, and ought to have Old Glory on it, too!” cried Roger. “My father says that people generally don’t make half enough display of our flag.”
The youths walked along the edge of the summit 128for quite a distance, looking off to the northward and southward. Then, after Ben had taken a few more pictures, they started back for where they had left the horses.
“Come on, let’s have a race!” cried Ben suddenly. “First fellow to reach the horses wins the prize!”
“And what’s the prize?” queried Phil.
“Won’t tell it to you till you win it!” broke in Dave.
With merry shouts, all of the chums started on a run for where they supposed the horses had been left. They soon found themselves in the midst of the underbrush and many loose rocks, around which they had to make their way. Some thought the horses were in one direction and some another, and as a consequence they soon became separated, although still within calling distance.
“Hi! Be careful that you don’t go down in some hole and break a leg,” cautioned Dave.
“That’s right!” sang out Roger, who was some distance off. “Some of these rocks are mighty treacherous.”
Forward went the crowd, and in about ten minutes Dave and Roger found themselves in sight of the former camping spot. Phil and Ben were also coming on from around some rocks on the left, and each of the crowd put on an extra burst of speed to reach the horses first.
129“I win!” cried Roger, as he caught hold of one of the saddles.
At the same moment, Phil touched another of the animals, and a few seconds later Dave and Ben did the same.
“Pretty close race for all of us!” cried Ben; and then, of a sudden, he looked around. “Where is Shadow?”
The four who had reached the horses looked back toward the brushwood and the rocks around which they had made their way. They waited for several seconds, expecting each instant that the former story-teller of Oak Hall would show himself. But Shadow failed to appear.
“Hello, Shadow! Hello! Where are you?” sang out Dave, at the top of his lungs.
No answer came to this call, and one after another the others also summoned their missing chum. They listened intently, but not a sound of any kind broke the quietness of the mountain top.
“Something has happened to him, that’s sure,” remarked Roger, his face growing grave.
“I guess we had better go back and look for him,” announced Dave.