229
“If Bill doesn’t look out he’ll lose his job, and it will be too bad,” answered Frank Andrews, “because he won’t be likely to get another such easy berth in a hurry. He gets good money for what little he does. He hired with the company as a first-class bookkeeper, but I understand he is only ordinary when it comes to handling big masses of figures.”
“Well, I didn’t like him when I met him, and I’d be just as well satisfied if we didn’t meet again,” said Dave.
But Dave’s wish was not to be gratified. He was to meet William Jarvey in the future, and that meeting was to bring with it a great surprise.
230CHAPTER XXIVA MIDNIGHT ALARM
“Well, Dave, we have been in this camp just a month to-day. How do you think you like it?”
“I like it first-rate, Roger––in fact, better than I first thought I would. All the engineers and assistants are so kind and helpful.”
“That’s what they are,” returned the senator’s son. “And I think we are getting along famously. Do you know, I am actually in love with the construction of this new Catalco bridge. I think it’s going to be a dandy when it’s completed.”
“Not only a dandy, Roger, but, unless I miss my guess, it will be a monument to the skill and ingenuity of the Mentor Construction Company. I’ve been reading up on all kinds of bridges, and I think the construction of this particular bridge goes ahead of most of them.”
“One thing is sure––Mr. Obray is very proud of the way things are going. I heard from Andrews that some of the other construction companies thought we would never be able to build this bridge the way it is going up.”
231
The talk between the two chums was held in the evening after work for the day had come to an end. Dave and Roger stood on an elevation of ground surveying the unfinished bridge––or rather chain of bridges––which spanned a river and the marshland beyond. It had been a great engineering feat to obtain the proper foundations for the bridge where it spanned the marshland, and make them impervious to the floods which came with great force during certain seasons of the year.
The first week at the camp had been spent in the offices, but all the other time had been put in with the engineering gang that was superintending the construction of the far end of the bridge, and also the laying out of the railroad route through the hills and cuts beyond. The work had proved fascinating to the chums, and they were surprised to see how quickly the time passed.
Dave and Roger had made a number of friends, but none more agreeable than Frank Andrews. Andrews occupied a room close to their own, and often spent an evening with them.
About the end of the second week they had received word concerning William Jarvey. The bookkeeper in the offices at San Antonio had had a violent quarrel with Mr. Watson and had been discharged. He had gone off declaring that his being treated thus was unjustifiable, and that he232was going to bring the Mentor Construction Company to account for it.
“I guess he’s nothing but a bag of wind,” was Roger’s comment, on hearing this. “The company is probably much better off to have such a chap among the missing.”
“I don’t see what he can do to hurt the company,” had been Dave’s answer. “He was probably discharged for good cause.”
Although so far away from home, it must not be supposed that Dave and Roger had forgotten the folks left behind. They had sent numerous letters telling of their various experiences and of what they hoped to do in the future. In return Roger had received one letter from his father and another from his mother, and Dave had gotten communications from his sister Laura and from Jessie, and also a long letter from Ben.
Of these the letter received from Jessie was to our hero the most important, and it must be confessed that he read it a number of times. The girl was greatly interested in all that he had told her about his work, and she said she hoped he would become a great civil engineer, and that she certainly trusted he would not have any trouble with the Mexicans.
The letter from Ben Basswood had been rather a disheartening communication. Ben wrote that his father did not seem to regain his health as233rapidly as the doctor had anticipated, and that nothing new concerning Ward Porton or Tim Crapsey had been uncovered. Ben added that he had written to the authorities in New York City concerning Porton and had received word back that they had been unable to locate the former moving-picture actor.
“I believe the loss of those miniatures has had its full effect on Mr. Basswood,” remarked Dave, when speaking of the matter to his chum. “I suppose it makes him feel blue, and that retards his recovery.”
“More than likely,” answered Roger. “A person can’t very well throw off a heavy spell of sickness when he is so depressed in spirits. It’s too bad! And I suppose Mrs. Basswood feels dreadful to think she was the one to let the fortune slip out of their hands.”
“No doubt of it, Roger. Of course, it’s easy enough to blame her, and I suppose a great many of their neighbors do. But, just the same, place yourself in her position––worried half to death over the sickness of her husband––and you might have done the same thing.”
It was a warm evening and the chums took their time in returning to the camp, knowing supper would not be served until a little later. During the day several shots had been heard at a great distance to the southward, and some of the civil234engineers had wondered if some sort of a scrimmage was taking place on the other side of the Rio Grande.
“If a fight is in progress I hope it doesn’t extend to this neighborhood,” remarked one of the engineers, in speaking of the matter. “We’ve got troubles enough of our own––getting this bridge right––without having the greasers interfering with our work;” and he gave a grim laugh.
When the chums arrived in camp they found that the day’s mail had come in. There was a Washington newspaper for Roger containing an address delivered in the Senate by Senator Morr, and also a long letter for our hero from Ben.
“Well, here is news at last!” cried Dave, as he scanned the communication. “Come on out here, away from the crowd, Roger, and I’ll read it to you;” and then he led the way to a corner and acquainted his chum with the contents of the letter, which was as follows:
“I know you will be interested to learn that we have at last heard from that rascal, Tim Crapsey, who, with Ward Porton, got the miniatures from my mother. Crapsey sent a very badly written letter to my father, stating that he and Porton had parted company, but that he had the most of the miniatures,––in fact, all but six of them.“Crapsey wrote that he was in the city of New York, and had the miniatures in a safe place, and235that he would return them to us for fifteen thousand dollars. We were to insert a personal advertisement in one of the New York newspapers if we were willing to accept his offer, and then he would send us word how the exchange of money for the miniatures could be made.“Of course, as you know, my father is still sick. He didn’t have anything like fifteen thousand dollars in cash to offer Crapsey, and besides that Mr. Wadsworth and your Uncle Dunston thought it was altogether too much money to offer a thief like that. In fact, your uncle was of the opinion that they should only try to lead Crapsey on, so that they could capture him. But my father, backed up by Mr. Wadsworth, at length agreed to put up five thousand dollars in order to get the miniatures back, and an advertisement was inserted in the newspapers to that effect.“We waited two days for a reply, and then came a scrawl on a bit of paper signed by Crapsey, stating that he was having trouble of another kind and could not for the present keep on with his negotiations. After that my father inserted another advertisement asking for more information, but up to the present time no additional word has come in.“My father does not know what to make of it. Your folks and Mr. Wadsworth are of the opinion that either Crapsey was trying to fool them and got scared or else that the rascal has been caught by the police for some other crime and is trying to conceal his identity. They are divided on the question as to whether to believe Crapsey when he wrote that he and Porton had parted company––they236are half inclined to believe that Porton is still with him, and that the whole scheme was framed up by Porton.”
“I know you will be interested to learn that we have at last heard from that rascal, Tim Crapsey, who, with Ward Porton, got the miniatures from my mother. Crapsey sent a very badly written letter to my father, stating that he and Porton had parted company, but that he had the most of the miniatures,––in fact, all but six of them.
“Crapsey wrote that he was in the city of New York, and had the miniatures in a safe place, and235that he would return them to us for fifteen thousand dollars. We were to insert a personal advertisement in one of the New York newspapers if we were willing to accept his offer, and then he would send us word how the exchange of money for the miniatures could be made.
“Of course, as you know, my father is still sick. He didn’t have anything like fifteen thousand dollars in cash to offer Crapsey, and besides that Mr. Wadsworth and your Uncle Dunston thought it was altogether too much money to offer a thief like that. In fact, your uncle was of the opinion that they should only try to lead Crapsey on, so that they could capture him. But my father, backed up by Mr. Wadsworth, at length agreed to put up five thousand dollars in order to get the miniatures back, and an advertisement was inserted in the newspapers to that effect.
“We waited two days for a reply, and then came a scrawl on a bit of paper signed by Crapsey, stating that he was having trouble of another kind and could not for the present keep on with his negotiations. After that my father inserted another advertisement asking for more information, but up to the present time no additional word has come in.
“My father does not know what to make of it. Your folks and Mr. Wadsworth are of the opinion that either Crapsey was trying to fool them and got scared or else that the rascal has been caught by the police for some other crime and is trying to conceal his identity. They are divided on the question as to whether to believe Crapsey when he wrote that he and Porton had parted company––they236are half inclined to believe that Porton is still with him, and that the whole scheme was framed up by Porton.”
“That is certainly interesting news,” remarked Roger, after both had perused the letter a second time. “And it settles one thing––and that is that Tim Crapsey must have been in New York with Ward Porton at the time we saw the latter.”
“Exactly, Roger. And it also proves beyond a doubt that that pair were really the thieves. Previous to this we only supposed such to be the fact––we really couldn’t prove it.”
“Oh, I was sure of it all along, Dave.”
“So was I, Roger. But you know in a court of law it is one thing to know a thing and another to be able to prove it.”
The two young civil engineers discussed the letter all through the evening meal and even for some time later. Then, however, Roger turned to his newspaper, to read with care the address that his father had delivered. Dave was also interested in this.
“I’d like to be in the Senate some time when your father was speaking,” he remarked to his chum. “It must be a great sight to see such a body as that when it is in session.”
“It is, Dave,” answered his chum. “And people come thousands of miles to see it.”
Before retiring for the night Dave penned a letter237to Ben, and also sent a letter to Jessie, and another to his Uncle Dunston which was meant for the entire household. Roger spent the time in a communication to his mother, and also in a long letter to Luke Watson.
The night proved to be unusually warm, for the breeze which was usually stirring had died down completely. Dave fell into a fitful doze, from which he awoke about midnight to find his mouth and throat quite parched.
“I guess I’d better get up and get a drink,” he told himself, “and then I may be able to sleep better. Phew! but the thermometer has certainly been going up the last few days.”
He arose to his feet and walked out of the room into the hallway of the building, where in one corner there was a water-cooler. He had just finished drinking a glass of water when a sound from outside reached his ears. There was a shout from a distance, followed almost instantly by a rifle shot.
“Hello! what can that mean?” he cried.
A moment later came more shouts, this time a little closer to the camp. Then two more rifle shots rang out sharply through the midnight air.
“Something is wrong, that’s sure!” exclaimed the youth. Rushing back into the bedroom he shook Roger vigorously. At the same time he heard others getting up and calling to each other,238wanting to know what the shouts and shots meant.
“What do you want, Dave?” asked the senator’s son, sleepily.
“Get up, Roger!” answered our hero, quickly. “Hurry up! there is something going on outside! I just heard a number of yells and several rifle shots.”
“You don’t mean it, Dave!” and now Roger was on his feet with a bound. “Maybe it’s the greasers.”
“I don’t know what it is, Roger. But I guess we had better slip into our clothing. Maybe somebody is–– Listen!”
Dave broke off short, and both strained their ears to hear what was taking place outside. They heard a confused shouting, followed by several yells. And then came a volley of shots––five or six in number.
“It’s an attack! That’s what it is!” cried the senator’s son. “I’ll bet some of those Mexican bandits are coming over here! Oh, Dave! what do you suppose we had better do?”
“I don’t know, except that we had better slip on our clothing and get our pistols,” answered Dave. “This looks as if it might be serious.”
“Up, boys! Up!” came the cry from somebody outside. “Get your guns and your pistols! The Mexican raiders are coming this way!”
239CHAPTER XXVTHE MEXICAN RAIDERS
By the time the two chums had hastily donned their clothing and possessed themselves of the pistols they had purchased in San Antonio on the advice of Mr. Watson, the camp was in confusion from end to end, with the various bosses shouting orders and the men themselves wanting to know what the trouble was and what they had better do.
“It’s some of those confounded greasers!” cried Frank Andrews, as he, too, arose and armed himself. He had a repeating rifle, and it was known to Dave and Roger that he was an exceptionally good shot.
Andrews led the way from the building, followed by our hero and Roger and several others. In the meantime, the distant shouting and shooting seemed to have moved farther westward, in the direction where the new Catalco bridge was being constructed.
“It can’t be their intention to blow up the bridge?” queried Roger. There had been talk of this several times.
“No telling what those rascals are up to,” answered240Frank Andrews. “This may be only a rumpus kicked up to cover a cattle raid or something like that.”
In the midst of the excitement the telephone in the main office began to ring and was answered by one of the clerks. A few minutes later he came rushing out to where Mr. Obray stood talking to his assistant and the boss of the construction camp.
“Just got a telephone from the Tolman ranch,” announced the clerk. “Old man Tolman said they had been raided and that half of the raiders were coming this way. I tried to get some details from him, but in the midst of the talk I was shut off. I suppose somebody cut the wire.”
“I thought that might be it,” answered the head of the engineering corps.
“We ought to help Tolman all we can,” announced the boss of the construction camp. “He promised to assist us in case we had any trouble, and turn about is fair play.”
“Right you are, Peterson, and any man who wants to go out can do it.” And word was passed around to this effect.
Dave and Roger listened to this talk and what followed with much interest. In less than five minutes over thirty men from the construction camp had signified their willingness to go after the raiders, and these men were joined by Frank241Andrews and three other civil engineers, all well armed and mounted.
“I’d like to join that crowd and go after those Mexicans!” exclaimed Dave, his eyes sparkling.
“So would I!” returned the senator’s son, quickly. “Those fellows can’t be anything but plain bandits and cattle thieves.”
“Sure! No regular revolutionists would come over the border and act in this fashion.”
“What do you say, Dave––shall we go?”
“I’m willing.”
“No, no! You young fellows had better stay in the camp,” announced Ralph Obray, who overheard the talk. “Just remember that in a certain sense I am responsible for your safety while you are under me.”
“But those others are going,” returned Dave, somewhat reproachfully.
“So they are, Porter. But they are all older than you, and most of them have had experience in this sort of thing. I would rather that you stayed here. Maybe if those raiders come this way we’ll have our hands full defending the camp.”
Dave and Roger realized that for the head of the camp to express his desire in this instance was equal practically to a command; so they at once gave up the idea of following Frank Andrews and242the others. The men rode off quickly, and were soon lost to sight in the darkness of the night.
An hour of intense anxiety passed. During that time those left in the camp heard an occasional shot in the distance. Then several shots seemed much closer. There followed some yelling, and, then about five minutes later, came a dull explosion.
“That’s at the bridge!” exclaimed Dave. “They must be trying to blow it up!”
The dull explosion was followed by a sudden rattle of rifle and pistol shots and more yelling. Once or twice some men seemed to come quite near to the construction camp, the hoof strokes of the horses being distinctly heard.
All who remained in the camp were on the lookout, and each man stood ready with his weapon to do what he could to defend the place should the occasion arise. But with the explosion and the rattle of rifle and pistol shots that followed, the conflict seemed to die down, and presently all became utter silence; and thus two more hours passed.
“Whoever they were, they seem to have left this vicinity entirely,” said Roger.
“I wish it was morning,” put in another of the young men present. The watching was beginning to get on his nerves.
243
At last, just as the first streaks of dawn were beginning to show in the eastern sky, a number of horsemen were descried approaching from the southward. All in the camp were instantly on their guard, but it was soon seen that it was their friends who were coming back. They came in somewhat of a horseshoe formation, driving in their midst four prisoners, one of them with his arm done up in a sling and another with his head bandaged.
“They’ve got somebody!” exclaimed Roger, as the crowd came closer, “Four greasers!”
“Three of them look like Mexicans, but the other fellow looks like an American,” returned Dave, as the party came to a halt in front of the camp buildings.
Those who had come in were at once surrounded by the others, who wanted to know the particulars of what had taken place.
“It was a band of about thirty greasers, and with them were two or three Americans,” announced Frank Andrews. “They went down to old man Tolman’s corral and tried to drive off about two hundred head of cattle. They got away from the ranch, and then part of the gang came over this way in the vicinity of the new bridge. We had two running fights with them, and then they let the cattle go and started for the244Rio Grande. But before they went one of the rascals set off a bomb near the end of the bridge and blew up a corner of the foundation.”
“Why in the world did they want to blow up the bridge?” demanded Mr. Obray.
“They weren’t all Mexicans, Mr. Obray. Several of them were Americans. We’ve got one of the Americans right here. And do you know who it is? Jack Pankhurst!”
“What’s that!” exclaimed the head of the camp, and then he turned to the prisoners. One man had his sombrero pulled well down over his forehead, as if somewhat ashamed of himself.
“There he is,” went on Frank Andrews, pointing to this individual. “That’s Jack Pankhurst, who was discharged for drinking and gambling about two months ago.”
Mr. Obray strode up to the prisoner and gave him a tap under the chin, thus elevating his face.
“You’re a fine specimen of humanity, Pankhurst!” he cried sternly. “A fine business for you to be in––joining Mexican outlaws and becoming a cattle rustler. What have you to say for yourself?”
“I haven’t anything to say,” grumbled the prisoner. “What’s the use? I was caught with the goods, wasn’t I?” he sneered.
“I’m ashamed to think an American would go in with a bunch of Mexican bandits,” said Mr.245Obray; and then gave directions that the prisoners should be well bound so that there would be no possibility of their escaping.
All listened with interest to the details of the cattle raid so far as the men who had gone out from the construction camp could relate. They said that some of the fighting had been exceedingly hot, and they were satisfied that a number of the Mexicans, and also one of the Americans with them, had been wounded.
They themselves had not escaped unscathed, one man being hit in the shoulder and another in the leg. Fortunately, however, neither of these wounds proved serious. The camp doctor was called in to attend them, after which he attended the wounded prisoners. In the meantime, a message was sent to the railroad station and to San Antonio, to acquaint the authorities with what had occurred.
“I was questioning Pankhurst on the way here,” said Frank Andrews to the head of the camp. “He wouldn’t admit it outright, but I am strongly of the opinion that one of the other Americans who was with him was Bill Jarvey.”
“Jarvey!” muttered Mr. Obray. “Well, it would be just like him to join a fellow like Pankhurst. They were quite chummy when they both worked for the company.”
“I’ve got another idea about this affair,” went246on Andrews. “Do you remember how they said Jarvey vowed he would get square with the company for discharging him? I’ve got an idea that it was his scheme to attempt to blow up the bridge, and that he was the one who set off that bomb. Their idea was to get the cattle to some safe place first, and then ruin the bridge. More than likely Jarvey and Pankhurst made a deal with the greasers to that effect––the Americans to help with the cattle and the Mexicans to help destroy our work.”
“You may be right, Andrews,” answered Ralph Obray. “And if you are, it’s a pity that you didn’t catch Jarvey.”
Dave and Roger listened to this talk with interest, and also joined in the general discussion of those in the camp regarding the raid, and what would be done with the prisoners.
“I suppose they will turn the prisoners over to the United States authorities,” was Dave’s opinion; and in this he was right. Some government officers appeared by noon of the next day, and after a lengthy talk with the head of the camp and a number of others, the prisoners, including Jack Pankhurst, were taken away.
“I wonder if old man Tolman got his cattle back,” remarked Roger.
“All but three of the animals,” answered one of the men present. “Those were trampled to247death during the raid. But three are nothing alongside of two hundred.”
The raid had caused so much excitement in the camp that there was but little work done that day. The boys went down with the others to inspect the bridge, and look curiously at the hole which had been torn in the corner of one of the foundations by the bomb.
“That was certainly a mean piece of business,” was our hero’s comment. “It didn’t do anybody a bit of good, and it’s going to make a good deal of work to repair the damage.”
Several days passed, and the camp at last settled back into its usual routine. Dave and Roger worked as hard as ever, and both were much pleased when Mr. Obray told them that they were doing very well.
“I am going to write a letter to Mr. Ramsdell,” said the head of the camp, “and tell him that I am well satisfied with his pupils,” and he smiled faintly.
A day or two later word came to the camp which interested the chums as much as it did anybody. It seemed that Jack Pankhurst had been subjected to a “third degree” of questioning. He had broken down completely and confessed that the two other Americans in the raid with him had been former employees of the Mentor Construction Company––one a fellow named Packard248Brown, and the other William Jarvey. Pankhurst had also let fall the information that Jarvey had once been an officer in the United States Army, and that he was traveling under an assumed name.
“A former officer of our army and acting in that way!” exclaimed Dave, when he heard this report. “I certainly do hope they’ll catch him and punish him as he deserves!”
“My sentiments exactly!” added Roger.
249CHAPTER XXVITHE CHASE ON THE BRIDGE
“My, Dave! but it’s hot!”
“I agree with you, Roger. This is the hottest day we’ve struck yet. And such a hard day as it’s been too!” and our hero paused to wipe the perspiration from his brow.
“What do you say if we take a swim this evening?” went on the senator’s son. “A plunge into the river would feel good to me.”
“I’m with you, Roger. Let us eat a light supper and get down to the river before it grows too dark.”
Four weeks had passed since the events narrated in the last chapter, and matters in and around the construction camp had once more quieted down. Work was being pushed forward rapidly, and Dave and Roger were making excellent progress in their chosen profession. They had made a warm personal friend of Frank Andrews, as well as a friend of Mr. Obray, and both of these individuals gave them many instructions during off hours which proved highly beneficial.
No more had been heard from the Mexican250raiders, and it was hoped that those bandits had departed for some other locality along the Rio Grande. The prisoners taken during the raid were still in jail, awaiting trial.
Down along the stream over which the new Catalco bridge was being constructed there was a favorite swimming place used by the civil engineers and their assistants, the men and boys of the construction gang using another spot farther down the stream.
“I’ll beat you getting in, Dave!” cried Roger, as the pair neared the bathing place that evening, and he started to take off some of his clothes.
“Don’t jump in too quickly, Roger,” warned our hero. “Remember you have just been eating and you are rather warm. Better take it easy on the bank for a little while.”
“I guess you’re right,” was the reply. “I don’t want to get a cramp or a chill, or anything like that.”
To reach the swimming spot, the chums had to pass one end of the new bridge. As they drew closer they saw somebody high up on the skeleton structure gazing at them curiously.
“Hello! who’s that up there?” remarked Dave.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Roger. “I thought all our men were back in camp.”
As they came still closer the individual on the251bridge turned to walk toward them. Suddenly, however, he stopped short and tried his best to hide himself behind some of the steel work.
“Say! that looks rather queer to me,” remarked Dave. “He acts just as if he didn’t want us to see him.”
“Just what I thought, Dave.” The senator’s son gave a sudden start. “You don’t suppose it’s one of those Mexican raiders, do you?”
“I can’t say anything about that. I’m going up there to find out who he is. It seems to me he is acting very suspiciously. Maybe he’s trying to plant some more bombs.”
Dave turned back to a point where he could get up on the bridge, and his chum followed. From this point they could not see the person above them nor could he see them. When they reached the flooring of the big bridge they were less than two hundred feet from where the unknown person stood. He was leaning over the side of the structure, evidently trying to find out what had become of them.
“Why, Dave, he––he––looks like you!” burst out the senator’s son, as both hurried in the direction of the unknown person.
“I do believe it’s Ward Porton!” ejaculated our hero. He began to quicken his pace. “Yes, I’m almost sure it’s Porton,” he added, a few seconds later.
252
“If it’s Porton what in the world tempted him to follow you to this place?” queried Roger.
“I don’t know. But I do know that I’m going to capture him if it is possible to do so,” answered Dave, with determination.
The two chums were still almost a hundred feet from the other person when the latter glanced up suddenly and discovered them. He looked them full in the face for just an instant, and then turned and began to run away towards the opposite end of the long bridge.
“It’s Porton, sure enough!” burst out Roger.
“Hi there, Porton! Stop!” cried Dave. “Stop, I tell you!”
“You go on back!” yelled Ward Porton, in an ugly voice. “Go on back, I tell you! If you don’t it will be the worse for you!” and he shook his fist at the chums.
“You might as well stop,” continued Dave, undaunted by the threat. “You can’t get away from us. If you try to jump off the unfinished end of the bridge you’ll break your neck.”
“If you fellows don’t go back I’ll shoot,” returned the fellow who resembled Dave. “Stop right where you are! Don’t dare to come a step closer!”
“Oh, Dave! do you suppose he is armed?” questioned Roger, hastily and in a low tone.
253
“Maybe he is. But I am going to keep on after him until he shows his pistol,” was the rapid reply. “You need not come if you don’t want to. I’m going to capture him and make him give up the Basswood fortune.”
“If you are going after him, so am I,” returned the senator’s son, sturdily. “Maybe it was only a bluff about shooting after all.”
While running along the bridge Dave’s eyes fell on a short steel bar left there by one of the workmen. He stopped just long enough to pick the bar up, and then went after Porton with all the speed at his command.
It was a perilous chase, for in many places the flooring of the big bridge was still missing and they had to leap from girder to girder of the steel structure.
“Stop, I tell you!” yelled Ward Porton once more, when Dave was within ten yards of him. And then he turned squarely around and our hero and Roger saw the glint of a pistol as the rascal pointed it toward them.
“He is armed!” cried Roger, and now there was a note of fear in his voice, and not without reason.
“Get behind the steel work,” ordered Dave, and lost no time in dodging partly out of sight. As he moved, however, he launched forth the steel bar he had picked up.
254
More by good luck than anything else the bar sped true to its mark. It struck Ward Porton in the forearm, the hand of which was holding the pistol. In another instant the weapon was clattering down through the steel work of the bridge to the river far below.
“Hurrah, Dave! you’ve disarmed him!” cried Roger.
For the instant Ward Porton seemed dazed by the sudden turn of affairs. Evidently, however, the blow from the steel bar had not hurt him much, for, turning quickly, he continued his flight along the bridge. Dave and Roger lost no time in following him.
It was not long before the fugitive and those behind him reached a section of the long bridge which was far from completed. Here there was practically no flooring, and Ward Porton had to jump from one piece of steel work to another, while Dave and Roger, of course, had to do the same. Once those in the rear saw the rascal ahead make a misstep and plunge downward. But he saved himself, and, scrambling to his feet, dashed forward as madly as before.
“Take care, Dave, it’s dangerous here,” gasped Roger; and scarcely had he spoken when he himself made a misstep and shot down below the level of the bridge flooring.
Dave was several feet in advance, but turned255instantly when his chum let out a cry of alarm. He saw Roger four or five feet below him, clinging frantically to one of the stays of the bridge.
“Hel––help m––me!” panted the unfortunate youth.
“Hold tight, Roger. I’ll help you,” returned Dave, quickly.
“Hold tight, Roger! I’ll help you,” returned Dave, quickly.––Page 255.
“Hold tight, Roger! I’ll help you,” returned Dave, quickly.––Page 255.
The stay below was so small in diameter that all Roger could do was to cling to it with both hands and one leg. In this position he hung until Dave let himself down several feet and managed to give him a hand. Then with extreme caution both worked their way back to the unfinished flooring of the bridge.
“Oh my! I thought sure I was a goner!” panted the senator’s son, when he found himself safe once more. He had turned white and he was trembling from head to foot.
“I guess you had better not go any farther, Roger,” remarked Dave. “This certainly is dangerous work.”
“It’s a wonder Porton doesn’t fall,” was the other’s comment, as they both watched the fleeing rascal, who was leaping from girder to girder with a recklessness that was truly amazing.
“He’s scared stiff at the idea of being captured,” was Dave’s comment. “If it wasn’t for that, I don’t believe he would take any such256chance;” and in this surmise our hero was probably correct.
Dave hated to give up the chase, so he continued his way along the bridge, making sure, however, of every step and jump he took. Roger remained where he was, too shaken up to proceed farther when he knew that each step would prove more hazardous than the last.
At last Ward Porton gained a point where one of the foundations of the bridge rested on comparatively solid ground, with the river behind and a wide stretch of marshland ahead. Here there was a long ladder used by the workmen, and down this the rascal went as fast as his feet could carry him. By the time Dave reached the top of the ladder, Porton was well on his way over the solid ground. Soon the gathering darkness hid him from view.
Knowing that it would be next to useless to attempt to follow the rascal now that he had left the vicinity of the bridge, Dave returned to where he had left Roger. Then the pair started slowly back to the end of the bridge from which they had come.
“I can’t understand what brought Ward Porton here,” remarked Roger, when the chums had once more gained the swimming-place. “Do you suppose he knew you were in this vicinity, Dave?”
“Possibly, Roger. But at the same time, I257don’t think that would explain his presence here. He wouldn’t dare to impersonate me around this camp. He’d be sure to be caught at it sooner or later.”
“Well, I don’t understand it at all.”
“Neither do I. I am sorry that we didn’t catch the rascal,” returned Dave, soberly.
When they went back into camp they informed Frank Andrews, and also Mr. Obray, of what had occurred. These men had already heard some of the particulars regarding Dave’s double and the disappearance of the Basswood fortune.
“Too bad you didn’t get him,” said Frank Andrews. “But you be careful how you run over that unfinished bridge, unless you want to have a nasty fall and either get killed or else crippled for life.”
Several days went by, including Sunday, and nothing more was seen or heard of Ward Porton although the lads made a thorough search for him. Dave sent letters home and to Ben Basswood, telling the folks in Crumville of what had happened.
“A little greaser to see you, Dave,” remarked one of the civil engineers as Dave was coming from an unusually difficult afternoon’s work.
He walked to where his fellow worker had pointed, and there saw a dirty, unkempt Mexican lad standing with a letter in his hand. The communication258was addressed to Dave, and, opening it, he read the following:
“I have broken with Tim Crapsey and have the Basswood miniatures here with me safely in Mexico. If the Basswoods will pay me ten thousand dollars in cash they can have the pictures back. Otherwise I am going to destroy them. I will give them two weeks in which to make good.“As you are so close at hand, maybe you can transact the business for Mr. Basswood. When you are ready to open negotiations, send a letter to the Bilassa camp, across the border, and I will get it.“Ward Porton.”
“I have broken with Tim Crapsey and have the Basswood miniatures here with me safely in Mexico. If the Basswoods will pay me ten thousand dollars in cash they can have the pictures back. Otherwise I am going to destroy them. I will give them two weeks in which to make good.
“As you are so close at hand, maybe you can transact the business for Mr. Basswood. When you are ready to open negotiations, send a letter to the Bilassa camp, across the border, and I will get it.
“Ward Porton.”
259CHAPTER XXVIIACROSS THE RIO GRANDE
Dave read the note from Ward Porton with intense interest, and then passed it over to Roger.
“What do you know about that!” exclaimed the senator’s son, after he had perused the communication. “Do you think Porton tells the truth?”
“I don’t know what to think, Roger. If he does tell the truth, then it is quite likely that Tim Crapsey was trying to play a double game so far as the Basswoods were concerned.”
“It’s pretty clever on Porton’s part,” said Roger, speculatively. “He knows it would be very difficult for us to get hold of him while he is in Mexico, with this revolution going on. And at the same time he is close enough to keep in touch with you, knowing that you can easily transact this business for the Basswoods––providing, of course, that Mr. Basswood is willing.”
Dave did not answer to this, for he was looking around for the Mexican youth who had delivered the note. But the boy had slipped away, and a260search of the camp failed to reveal what had become of him.
“I guess he was instructed to sneak away without being seen,” was our hero’s comment. “Porton knew that I wouldn’t be in a position to answer him at once, and he didn’t want me to follow that boy.”
Dave read the note again, and then went off to consult with Frank Andrews and Mr. Obray.
“It’s too bad you didn’t capture that little greaser,” observed the head of the civil engineers. “We might have been able to get some information from him. However, if he’s gone that’s the end of it. I think the best thing you can do, Porter, is to send a night message to this Mr. Basswood, telling him how the note was received and repeating it word for word. Then the responsibility for what may follow will not rest on your shoulders.”
Our hero thought this good advice, and, aided by his chum, he concocted what is familiarly known as a Night Letter, to be sent by telegraph to Crumville.
On the following day came a surprise for our hero in the shape of a short message from Ben Basswood which ran as follows:
“Yours regarding Porton received. Crapsey makes another offer. Pair probably enemies now. Will write or wire instructions later.”
“Yours regarding Porton received. Crapsey makes another offer. Pair probably enemies now. Will write or wire instructions later.”
261
“This is certainly getting interesting,” remarked Dave, after having read the message. He turned it over to Roger. “I guess Ben is right––Crapsey and Porton have fallen out and each is claiming to have the miniatures.”
“Well, one or the other must have them, Dave.”
“Perhaps they divided them, Roger. Thieves often do that sort of thing, you know.”
“Do you suppose Ward Porton is really around that Bilassa camp in Mexico?” went on the senator’s son.
“Probably he is hanging out somewhere in that vicinity. I don’t think he has joined General Bilassa. He thinks too much of his own neck to become a soldier in any revolution.”
Having sent his message to the Basswoods and received Ben’s reply, there seemed nothing further for our hero to do but to wait. He and Roger were very busy helping to survey the route beyond the new Catalco bridge, and in the fascination of this occupation Ward Porton was, for the next few days, almost forgotten.
“If the Basswoods expect you to do anything regarding that note you got from Porton they had better get busy before long,” remarked Roger one evening. “Otherwise Porton may do as he threatened––destroy the pictures.”
“Oh, I don’t believe he’d do anything of that262sort, Roger,” answered Dave. “What would be the use? I think he would prefer to hide them somewhere, thinking that some day he would be able to make money out of them.”
Four days after this came a bulky letter from Ben Basswood which Dave and his chum read eagerly. It was as follows:
“I write to let you know that Tim Crapsey has been caught at last. He was traced to New York and then to Newark, N. J., where the police found him in a second-rate hotel. He had been drinking, and confessed that he had had a row with Ward Porton and that one night, when he was under the influence of liquor, Porton had decamped, taking all but two of the miniatures with him. The two miniatures had been sold to a fence in New York City for one hundred dollars, and the police think they can easily get them back. With the hundred dollars Crapsey had evidently gone on a spree, and it was during this that Porton sneaked away with the other miniatures. Crapsey had an idea that Porton was bound for Boston, where he would take a steamer for Europe. But we know he was mistaken.“The case being as it is, my father, as well as your folks and Mr. Wadsworth, thinks that Porton must have the pictures with him in Mexico. That being the case, your Uncle Dunston says he will come down to Texas at once to see you, and I am to come with him. What will be done in the matter I don’t know, although my father would much rather give up ten thousand dollars263than have the miniatures destroyed. If you receive any further word from Ward Porton tell him that I am coming down to negotiate with him. You had better not mention your uncle’s name.”
“I write to let you know that Tim Crapsey has been caught at last. He was traced to New York and then to Newark, N. J., where the police found him in a second-rate hotel. He had been drinking, and confessed that he had had a row with Ward Porton and that one night, when he was under the influence of liquor, Porton had decamped, taking all but two of the miniatures with him. The two miniatures had been sold to a fence in New York City for one hundred dollars, and the police think they can easily get them back. With the hundred dollars Crapsey had evidently gone on a spree, and it was during this that Porton sneaked away with the other miniatures. Crapsey had an idea that Porton was bound for Boston, where he would take a steamer for Europe. But we know he was mistaken.
“The case being as it is, my father, as well as your folks and Mr. Wadsworth, thinks that Porton must have the pictures with him in Mexico. That being the case, your Uncle Dunston says he will come down to Texas at once to see you, and I am to come with him. What will be done in the matter I don’t know, although my father would much rather give up ten thousand dollars263than have the miniatures destroyed. If you receive any further word from Ward Porton tell him that I am coming down to negotiate with him. You had better not mention your uncle’s name.”
“Looks as if Porton told the truth after all,” announced Roger. “Probably he watched his opportunity and the first chance he got he decamped and left Crapsey to take care of himself.”
“Most likely, Roger. I don’t believe there is any honor among thieves.”
Ben had not said how soon he and Dunston Porter would arrive. But as they would probably follow the letter the two chums looked for the pair on almost every train. But two days passed, and neither put in an appearance.
“They must have been delayed by something,” was Dave’s comment.
“Maybe they are trying to get that ten thousand dollars together,” suggested Roger.
“I don’t believe my Uncle Dunston will offer Porton any such money right away,” returned our hero. “He’ll see first if he can’t work it so as to capture the rascal.”
On the following morning Roger was sent southward on an errand for Mr. Obray. When he returned he was very much excited.
“Dave, I think I saw Ward Porton again!” he exclaimed, as he rushed up to our hero.