"Dave, what do you think! I saw Link Merwell this morning!"
It was Laura who spoke, as she burst into her brother's room, where the youth was looking over the things he expected to take with him on his trip West.
"You saw Link Merwell!" cried Dave, dropping some collars he held in his hand. "Where?"
"Down on Main Street, near the post-office."
"Did he speak to you?"
"Oh, no, the minute he noticed that I saw him he hurried out of sight around the corner. I followed to the corner, but when I got there he had gone."
"Was Job Haskers with him?"
"I didn't see him."
"Humph! This is interesting, to say the least," mused Dave. He thought of what Nat Poole had told him, and of what Merwell and Haskers had attempted at the Morr homestead. "I'll have to look into this," he added, aloud.
"Oh, Dave, do you think he'll try to do something more round here—or at the jewelry works?"
"I'll warn Mr. Wadsworth, Laura, and he can notify the police. But it's queer Merwell should show himself, knowing there is a warrant out for his arrest. Weren't you mistaken?"
"I don't think so. Of course he had on a slouch hat, drawn down over his eyes, and an unusual suit of clothing, but I am pretty certain it was Merwell."
"Then Haskers must be here, too. They travel together." Dave heaved a sigh. "It's too bad! I wish they were in China, or at the North Pole!"
It was two days after Dave's arrival at Crumville and most of the time had been spent in getting ready for the trip to Montana. Roger and Phil were coming to the house that afternoon, and Dave had received a telegram from Shadow Hamilton that he would accompany the tourists as far as Yellowstone Park. The other lads were unable to make the necessary arrangements.
It was lunch time and Dave lost no time in going to Mr. Wadsworth, who had just come in from his jewelry works. Both of them, accompanied by Dave's father, went into the library to talk the matter over, so that Jessie and her mother might not be disturbed.
"I'll see the police about this," said Mr. Wadsworth, when he had heard about Merwell. "If possible, we must place this young scamp where that fellow Jasniff is, behind the bars."
"I wish they could arrest Haskers, too," sighed Dave.
"I don't see how we can—we have no charge against him," answered the manufacturer.
It was about three o'clock when Roger and Phil came in. As my old readers know, the senator's son and Dave's sister were on unusually good terms with each other, and the greeting between them was very cordial.
"But I don't like you for one thing, Roger," said Laura, half reproachfully. "I don't like this idea of Dave going off to look for that lost mine."
"Oh, we won't be away from you long, Laura."
"And the danger—not only to Dave but to—to you," went on the girl, and gave him a look that meant much.
"We'll be careful," answered the senator's son. "But I hate awfully to worry you," he added, in a lower tone.
For Phil, Laura had some good news, which was to the effect that Belle Endicott, the daughter of the owner of Star Ranch, where the young folks had spent such an enjoyable summer, had written that she would join the party at Livingston, for the trip through Yellowstone Park. Phil had always admired Belle, she was so dashing and so full of fun, and the news was just to his liking.
"We'll have the best times ever!" he cried. "That is, after Dave and Roger and Shadow and I get back from locating that lost mine!"
"You talk as if it was going to be the easiest thing in the world to locate the Landslide Mine!" laughed Roger. "I think it is going to be hard work—and we may not get a trace of it."
"Did you bring those papers and that map?" questioned Dave.
"I did."
"Let us go over them now," cried Phil. But this was not to be, for there were other things to attend to just then, and the girls demanded a good share of the boys' attention.
The following morning found the three youths in a summer-house attached to the Wadsworth estate. This was located down near a tiny brook and was overgrown with vines and bushes. It was a cozy retreat, especially on such a hot day in July, and the boys proceeded to make themselves at home by throwing off their coats and caps.
"Now let us get down to business on this thing," said Dave; whereupon the senator's son brought forth his papers, and the map of the mining district wherein the Landslide Mine was supposed to be located.
"That lost mine is supposed to be somewhere along this old trail," said Roger, pointing with his finger. "This trail is known as the Rodman Trail, because a fellow named Billy Rodman discovered it. As near as I can make out, the papers say the mine was on this Rodman Trail, half a mile north of Stony Cut and to the west of the Four Rocks."
"Huh! That ought to be dead easy to locate," was Phil's comment. "All we have to do is to walk along the trail half a mile beyond Stony Cut and then to the west of the Four Rocks,—and there you are."
"Exactly, except for two things," replied Roger. "The landslide wiped out Stony Cut and the Four Rocks, too."
"Oh!"
"But some one must have some idea where Stony Cut was located," said Dave.
"My idea is to hunt up that old miner, Abe Blower, and see if he can't locate Stony Cut for us, even approximately, and tell us something about Four Rocks—how it used to look before the great landslide. Then, after we've got that information, we'll start on the hunt."
"Do you think we'll find Abe Blower in Butte, Montana?" asked Phil.
"More than likely. He was there some time ago, mother heard. He and Uncle Maurice used to be great chums."
"And are you sure the mine is valuable?" queried Phil, after a pause.
"It must be, otherwise my uncle wouldn't have been so anxious about it."
Again the boys went over the papers and also the map, talking the proposed trip over from various points of view. They all agreed that locating the lost mine would be no easy task.
"Supposing somebody else locates it?" said Phil, presently. "Couldn't he lay claim to it?"
"I don't know about that—I suppose so, since the mine is now completely lost."
"I hope you can find this Abe Blower and get him to go with us," said Dave. "An old prospector like that ought to know that territory well."
"Blower does know it—so they say."
"Did you ever meet him?" questioned Phil.
"No, I never even heard of him until Uncle Maurice died and left his property to mother."
"Then you don't know what kind of a man he is?"
"Oh, he must be pretty nice, or my uncle wouldn't have had him for a friend. I've no doubt that he is rough—many of that sort are—but I feel certain——"
Roger stopped short, as a strange crashing in some bushes back of the summer-house reached his ears and the ears of the others.
"What's that?" cried Dave. "Some animal?"
"Hi, what are you doing there?" came, in the voice of the Wadsworth gardener. "Come here, I want to talk to you!"
"Somebody is in those bushes!" exclaimed Roger, and ran from the summer-house, followed by his chums.
They were just in time to find Joseph, the new gardener, running after a young fellow who was making his way through an apple orchard on the other side of the brook. Joseph was somewhat stout and not quick of foot, and the young fellow easily outdistanced him, leaped the orchard fence, and hurried down the back road.
"Who was it, Joseph?" demanded Dave, when the gardener came up, all out of breath.
"I—don't—know—sir!" gasped the man, puffing for breath. "He—was—hiding—in the bushes back of—the—summer-house."
"Hiding here!" cried Dave. He looked at his chums. "Can it have been Merwell?" he murmured.
"Would he dare come here?" asked Phil.
"He dared to come to Crumville, after he knew there was a warrant out for his arrest."
"How did that fellow look?" questioned Roger.
"I didn't see his face, sir," answered the gardener, who had now recovered somewhat. "He had on a soft hat and a brown, baggy suit."
"That's the way Merwell was togged out, so Laura said!" cried Dave. "Fellows, it must have been Link! Now what do you know about that!"
"Do you think he heard what we said?" asked Roger, much disturbed.
"He must have, if he was hiding in those bushes," answered Phil.
"Wonder how long he was there?"
None of the boys could answer that question, nor could the gardener enlighten them. Joseph had been coming along the side of the orchard when he had espied the fellow and had called to him, thinking it was some boy from Crumville who had sneaked up to steal some of the orchard fruit. He had been surprised when the fellow dashed away so quickly.
"Maybe he wasn't alone," suggested Roger. "Let us take a look around."
This was done, but nobody else seemed to be near. Much disturbed, the three lads walked all over the place, and even down the back road in the direction the intruder had fled.
"If it was Merwell he must have heard all that was said," remarked the senator's son, gravely.
"If he did, it won't do him any good," answered Phil. "I don't think he'll hunt for that mine."
"He may follow us and try to make trouble," returned Dave. "He is very bitter—and so is Job Haskers. They'd put themselves out a whole lot to give us a black eye, so to speak."
"Oh, I know that."
Much disturbed, the three youths returned to the house, where Roger put his map and papers in a safe place in his trunk—the one he was to take on the trip West. In the meantime Dave telephoned to the police, telling them that Merwell had been seen in the vicinity of the Wadsworth mansion. He was glad of the fact that Mrs. Wadsworth and the girls had gone out to do some shopping, for he did not wish to alarm them further.
In the meantime, down the hot and dusty road in the rear of the orchard ran the young fellow who had leaped the fence. It was indeed Link Merwell, sour-faced, and with that same cunning look as of old in his eyes.
He kept on for fully a quarter of a mile, then suddenly plunged into a strip of woodland. There, beside a large stream of water, were the ruins of an old stone house.
Link Merwell stopped running and after a stealthy look around, emitted a clear, short whistle. This he repeated twice.
From behind the ruins of the stone house a man appeared, with a soft hat drawn well down over his forehead. The man was Job Haskers.
"Back again, eh?" snapped the former teacher of Oak Hall. "Did you do it?" he questioned, curiously.
"No, I didn't get the chance," answered Link Merwell. He sank on a log and fanned himself with his hat.
"Humph! Better let it go then. If they see you, they'll be after you."
"They are after me, Haskers."
"They are! Then let us get out at once!" And the former teacher plainly showed his nervousness.
"I'm willing," returned Link Merwell. "I've changed my mind about doing something here," he went on. "We can do something somewhere else—something that will pay us both big."
"What do you mean?"
"We can go after a fortune that is coming to Roger Morr's mother. It's the Landslide Mine, and it's lost. Haskers, if we can locate that mine, our fortunes are made! Come on, and I'll tell you all about it while we are getting away from this place. We must go West just as fast as we can make it!"
"Off at last!"
"Hurrah for the West!"
"And the Landslide Mine, Roger, don't forget that!"
"What a splendid day for beginning the trip!"
"Say, we make quite a crowd, don't we?"
"Wonder if the train will be on time, Dave?"
"I suppose so. Special excursions are supposed to start on time. Is everybody here, and have we all our baggage?"
"I've got all of mine," returned Laura. "How about you, Jessie?"
"I've got my hand-bag. The trunk went with the other trunks."
"Say, seeing this crowd, puts me in mind of a story," burst out Shadow Hamilton. "Once some tourists—"
"Oh, Shadow!" came from several in concert.
"Better keep the story until after we are on the way," cried Dave, gayly. "We'll have plenty of time on the train. It's a four-days' trip to Yellowstone Park, remember."
"Here comes the train!" was the cry.
The scene was the Crumville station. The little platform was crowded with the folks who were going on the personally-conducted tour to that place of many wonders, Yellowstone Park. Mr. Basswood was on hand, wearing a blue and gold badge, and so was one of the local ministers, and these two had charge of the tour, these and a railroad official who had to look after connections and meals. In the crowd were the boys and girls, and also Mrs. Wadsworth, Mr. Dunston Porter, and about forty others from Crumville and vicinity. The tour was being run at a very reasonable rate, considering the accommodations afforded, and many were taking advantage of this fact to see Yellowstone Park, with its wonderful geysers, its curious boiling "paint pots," and its bears and buffaloes. The minister had once given a lecture on the Park and this had stimulated curiosity to go and see this land of such natural wonders. It is a great national reservation that every American ought to be glad to visit.
As the train rolled into the station the crowd got aboard and the porters showed the tourists to their seats. All of the "Porter tribe," as Phil dubbed them, were together. Mrs. Wadsworth and another lady had a stateroom, and next to this Laura and Jessie had a section, with Dave and Roger opposite. Then came the other boys, and Mr. and Mrs. Basswood and Dunston Porter. The Crumville contingent filled two cars, and there were three more cars from neighboring towns. To the front were a baggage and a dining-car and to the rear an observation car.
"All aboard!" was the cry.
"Good-by!"
"Don't forget to write!"
"Here, Tom, don't forget your valise!"
"Be sure to look for Brother Jack in Chicago!"
"Be sure to get some good pictures!"
"Don't forget some souvenirs!"
Then came more cries, and the waving of numerous handkerchiefs; and off rolled the excursion train, on its long western trip, Dave waving his cap to his father and Mr. Wadsworth, who had come down to the depot to see the party off.
It took some little time to settle down on the train. They had left Crumville at half-past ten and almost before the young folks knew it, it was time for lunch. Quite naturally Dave escorted Jessie to the dining-car, while Roger took Laura, and Mr. Dunston Porter looked after Mrs. Wadsworth.
"I hope the good weather continues," said Jessie, as she sat down with Dave. "It will add so much to the trip."
"Oh, I've ordered nothing but the best of weather," he replied, with a smile.
"Tell me, Dave," she whispered, "did you hear anything more about that Link Merwell?"
"Not a word, Jessie."
"You are sure it was he who was behind the summer-house that day?"
"Fairly sure. Of course, we might have been mistaken. But we know he was in Crumville—Laura was sure of that—and it would be just like him to sneak up to our place to see what he could do to annoy or injure us."
"Oh, if only they would leave you alone, Dave!" and the girl sighed deeply.
"Don't you worry, Jessie; I can take care of myself."
The lunch was a delightful one, and with so little to do, the young folks took their time over the repast. Then they drifted back to the observation car, and the boys saw to it that the girls and the ladies got good seats, where they might see all that they passed.
The afternoon found them rolling in the direction of Buffalo, which they were to reach before it was time to retire for the night. Then the train would pass through Cleveland while they slept, on its way to Chicago.
"I'll be glad to get a look at Chicago," said Ben Basswood, who had not done much traveling.
"We are to take a tour in a rubber-neck wagon," he added.
"A rubber-neck wagon!" cried his mother. "Benjamin, what language!"
"Well, that is what they usually call the touring automobiles," he answered, with a grin.
To some of the folks on the trip, going to bed on a train was much of a novelty, and they watched with interest while the porters made up the berths.
"Do you remember the time we had Billy Dill along, and what he thought of sleeping on a train?" remarked Dave, to Phil and Roger.
"I sure do," answered the shipowner's son, with a chuckle. "When he saw the seats converted into beds he wanted to know if they didn't have a ballroom aboard, or a church, or a farm," and at the recollection of the old tar's questions all in the party had to laugh.
"Where is this Billy Dill now?" asked Shadow.
"Safe in an old sailors' home," answered Dave. "He took a trip or two to sea, but he couldn't stand it, so we had him put in the home."
"You've got him to thank for a good deal, Dave," remarked the senator's son, in low tones.
"Yes, and I'll never forget Billy Dill," answered our hero, as he remembered how the old tar had helped him to find his Uncle Dunston, as related in detail in "Dave Porter in the South Seas."
Mr. Dunston Porter had found some congenial spirits in the smoking-compartment of the car and spent a good deal of his time there. He met a man who had done considerable hunting in the West, and the two "swapped yarns," as Mr. Porter said afterwards.
Only a short stop was made at Buffalo, just long enough to allow the boys and some of the men to stretch their legs on the depot platform, and then the excursion train started on its trip along the shore of Lake Erie towards the great Windy City, as Chicago is sometimes called.
Morning found the party well on the way to Chicago, and that metropolis of the Great Lakes was reached about noon. Lunch had already been served, and at the depot all hands found a string of touring automobiles awaiting them, to take them around to various points of interest, including the business section, the finer residential district, and Lincoln Park, with its Zoölogical Garden. Some of the party went in a different direction, to visit the Stock Yards, that great place where hundreds of cattle are slaughtered daily.
"By the great tin dipper!" cried Phil, suddenly, when waiting for the automobile in which he and some others sat to start off. "Look who's here!"
"Jim Murphy!" cried Dave and Roger, in a breath.
"So it is!" came from Shadow. "Hi, Jim!" he called out. "Don't you know us any more?"
The young man they addressed, a tall fellow of Irish parentage, who stood on the sidewalk, turned swiftly. Then his face broke into a grin, and he rushed forward.
"Sure, an' what do you think of this now!" he exclaimed. "Dave Porter, an' Phil Lawrence, an' Roger Morr, and Shadow Hamilton, an', sure enough, Ben Basswood! Say, what is this, a tour o' Oak Hall boys!" and the former monitor of that institution of learning smiled more broadly than ever.
"We are on an excursion," explained Dave, and gave some details. "What are you doing in Chicago, Jim?" he went on.
"Sure I got a job here, after I left Oak Hall."
"What are you doing?" questioned Roger.
"I'm one of the gatemen in the train shed. But I expect to get a better job than that in a week or two—it's promised to me," added the former monitor. "An', by the way, lots of Oak Hall boys passing through Chicago now," he continued.
"What do you mean?" asked Phil, quickly. "Whom did you see?"
"Saw Teddy Fells about a week ago, and two days ago I saw Link Merwell."
"Merwell!" came from several of the youths.
"Was he alone?" questioned Dave.
"No, he had Mr. Haskers with him. Haskers lost his job at the Hall, didn't he?"
"Yes."
"I thought so, for the minute he and Merwell spotted me they got out of sight in a hurry."
"Where were they going?" asked Phil.
"I'm sure I don't know. They got off the Eastern Express, and left the depot in a hurry. They acted as if they didn't want anybody to notice 'em."
"All ready!" came the cry of the man in charge of the touring automobiles, and then one after another the turnouts rolled away from the depot.
"Shall we stay here and look into this?" asked Dave, of Roger and Phil.
"What's the use?" returned the shipowner's son. "It isn't likely they are here now." And then the boys waved a good-by to big Jim Murphy, and the automobile passed out of the former monitor's sight.
Laura and Jessie had heard what was said and they were as much disturbed as the boys themselves, if not more so.
"Oh, Dave, do you think Haskers and Merwell are following you?" asked his sister, anxiously.
"They can't be following us if they are ahead of us," he replied, with a faint smile.
"Well, you know what I mean."
"I don't know what to think, Laura. Merwell may be going West to join his folks. They are somewhere out there."
"But Haskers——"
"He may be sticking to Link because Link has money—he gets it from his parents, who don't want to see him caught and sent to prison, as was the case with Jasniff. I think Job Haskers was always a good sponge when it came to getting something out of other people."
"Maybe you are right. Oh, I hope we don't meet them on this trip!" And Laura shuddered; she could not exactly tell why.
The touring trip took the Crumville folks first to the business section of Chicago, and the man in front, with a megaphone, bawled out the various points of interest. Then the touring-cars, in a sort of procession, moved to a residential section, fronting Lake Michigan, with its palatial homes.
"Just as fine as Riverside Drive, New York," was Dave's comment.
"Every large city in the United States has its beautiful section," remarked Dunston Porter.
They were soon in Lincoln Park, and here a stop was made to look at the animals in the Zoo. The young people had a good deal of fun with the monkeys, and with a couple of bears that stood up to box each other.
Five o'clock found the party back to the depot, ready to board the train once more. As they stood near the car steps talking, a porter of the car touched Roger on the arm.
"Excuse me, Mr. Morr," he said, "but did you send a man here for your suit-case?"
"I certainly did not!" cried the senator's son.
"You didn't!" gasped the colored porter, and at once showed his excitement. "Well, one came here, with a written order for your suit-case, and I done gave it to him!"
"You gave somebody my suit-case!" cried the senator's son, while a number of tourists gathered around, to learn what was going on.
"Yes, sah!" returned the colored porter of the car. Plainly he was much distressed. "He had an order, sah," he added, and fumbled in one pocket after another, at last bringing out a crumbled bit of writing paper. "Here it is, sah!"
Roger took the slip and read it, with Dave and Phil looking over his shoulders. The sheet read as follows:
"Porter, Car Medora: Deliver to bearer my suit-case. Roger A. Morr."
"This is a forgery—I never wrote it!" cried the senator's son. "It's some swindler's trick!"
"I—I didn't know you didn't write it," faltered the porter. "I axed the man where you was and he said you was visitin' his house and wanted to show him something you had in the case."
"Do you know what I think?" exclaimed Dave. "I think this is the work of Link Merwell!"
"Yes, and Job Haskers," added Phil. "They are working together."
"But why did they steal my suit-case?" asked Roger. "Do you suppose——?" He stopped short, for strangers were about. He was on the point of mentioning the map and instructions he carried for locating the Landslide Mine. Dave and Phil, as well as Ben and Shadow, understood.
"Did you have anything in the case outside of your clothing?" whispered the shipowner's son.
"Only a few things of no importance," answered Roger. He tapped his breast pocket. "Those papers are here, and my money is here, too."
"Good!" murmured Dave. "Then Merwell and Haskers will be sold—outside of getting your clothing."
The porter was closely questioned, but could give no very good description of the man who had presented the order for the suit-case.
"I was busy—waitin' on an old lady wot was sick," he explained. "I jess read that order and got the suit-case, and he went off in a hurry. I'm mighty sorry I let him have the bag. But he had the order, all signed," and the porter rolled his eyes mournfully.
"I can't say that I blame you," answered Roger. "But after this——"
"I won't give away nuffin to nobody," cried the porter, quickly.
The matter was talked over for several minutes, and then it was time for the train to leave Chicago. The paper looked as if it might be in Link Merwell's handwriting and the boys concluded that he was the guilty party. Probably he had come to the train, knowing our friends were away on the sight-seeing tour, and possibly he had been disguised, maybe with a false mustache, or wig, or both. The porter was almost certain the man had worn a heavy black mustache.
"Well, all I lost was one suit of clothes, some shirts and collars, a few neckties and some underclothes, and a comb and brush, and toothbrush," remarked Roger, when the train was once more on its way. "It's a total loss of about sixty dollars."
"Maybe you can make the railroad pay it," suggested Shadow.
"Perhaps. But I am thankful that those rascals didn't get what they were after. They must have thought I carried those papers in the suit-case." Such was indeed the truth, and it was Merwell who had forged Roger's signature and gotten the traveling bag. It may be added here that, later on, the railroad company offered to pay for the loss of the suit-case and its contents, doing this very promptly when it was learned that the loser was the son of a United States senator.
On and on rolled the excursion train, and after the excitement attending the loss of the suit-case was over, the boys and girls settled down to enjoy themselves. Dave and the other lads loaned Roger such things as he needed, until he could get at his trunk in the baggage-car.
The next morning found the train in St. Paul, and there the tourists spent a day, riding around the city and visiting Minneapolis, which is but a short distance away. By nightfall they were on board once more and bound for Livingston, a small place, where a branch-line runs a distance of about fifty miles southward to Gardiner, the northern entrance to Yellowstone Park. At Livingston, Dave and his chums were to separate from the others and keep on westward to Butte, where they hoped to fall in with Abe Blower, the old miner and prospector.
"Oh, Dave, it won't be long now before we separate!" said Jessie with a sigh. It was the second day of the trip after leaving St. Paul, and the two were by themselves on the observation end of the train.
"Well, I don't think it will be for long," he said, as cheerfully as possible. "We'll soon join you in the Park."
"I—I wouldn't mind it so much if it was not for that Link Merwell—and that old Haskers!" continued the girl. "Oh, Dave, you must be careful!" and she caught him by the arm.
"I'm going to keep my eyes open for them," Dave answered, and, as nobody was looking, he caught her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Will you miss me, Jessie, while I am gone?" he continued, in a low tone.
"Terribly!" she whispered.
"I'll miss you, too. But it sha'n't be for long that I'll be away—I promise you that."
"Oh, you must find the mine if you can, Dave. I rather think the Morrs are depending on it. Laura said Roger looked very much worried when he got that letter in St. Paul."
"Yes, matters are not going well with the senator's affairs—I know that, Jessie. If he gets out of politics he'll have to do something else. Finding this lost gold mine would be a big lift for the whole family."
Then Laura came out, in company with Roger, and soon the others followed. It was a perfect day, as clear as could be, and off in the distance could be seen the mountains.
"Going to shoot any bears out there in the Park?" asked Shadow, of Dunston Porter, with a grin.
"Hardly, Shadow, since outsiders are not allowed to carry firearms," replied Dave's uncle. "Only the United States soldiers are armed in the Park."
"Somebody told me the bears were tame enough to eat out of your hand," said Phil.
"Maybe they are, but I shouldn't advise anybody to feed them that way," answered Mr. Porter. "A bear isn't naturally a sociable creature."
It had been decided that Dunston Porter should go into the Park with the ladies and the girls, letting the boys shift for themselves in the search for Abe Blower and the lost Landslide Mine. An hour before the time for parting came Dunston Porter called Dave, Roger, and Phil to him, in a car that was practically vacated at the time.
"Now, I want to caution all of you to be careful," said the old hunter and traveler. "This isn't the East, remember. It's the West, and in some places it is as wild and woolly as can be. But I don't think you'll have any trouble if you mind your own business and keep your eyes open. Don't rely too much on strangers, and I think it will be wise for all of you to keep together as much as possible. Don't show any more cash than you have to. And remember, you can always reach us in the Park, by telegraph or long-distance telephone."
"We'll try to take care of ourselves," said Dave; and then his uncle continued to give the youths advice, on one subject or another, until it was time to get ready to leave the train.
"Livingston!" was the cry presently, and the excursion train rolled into the long depot. It was to stop there for fifteen minutes and then proceed to Gardiner.
"There is Belle!" cried Laura.
"I see her!" put in Phil, and was the first to reach the platform and shake the girl from Star Ranch by the hand. Belle Endicott looked the picture of health, and was glad to greet them all.
"Sorry we can't visit awhile," said Roger.
"We'll do that after we come back," added Phil.
"Well, good-by everybody!" cried Dave, shaking hands with many, an example followed by those who were to go with him.
"Wish I was going on that hunt for the mine with you," said Ben, who had to remain with his folks.
"So do I," added Shadow, who was to stay with Ben.
"Never mind, we'll rely on you to look after the girls," answered Dave.
"Oh, we can do that," said Ben, with a grin.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "No reflection on the girls here," he added, hastily. "Once on a time a young minister paid a visit to some relatives in the country. He got a letter stating they'd be glad to have him come and would he attend a picnic in the woods and help to take care of four girls. He wrote back that he would be delighted. When he arrived and started for the picnic he found the four girls waiting for him—four old maids from thirty to forty years of age!" And at this joke a smile went around, in which the girls joined.
Soon the last of the good-bys had been said. The girls were on the observation end of the last car, and as the train rolled onward towards Yellowstone Park they waved their handkerchiefs and the boys on the platform swung their caps. Then the train slowly disappeared from view.
"Well, here we are," said Phil, with something like a sigh.
"We've got an hour to wait before that train comes along for Butte," said Roger, consulting his watch.
"How far is Butte?" went on the shipowner's son.
"About a hundred miles, as the crow flies," answered Dave. "But I guess it is longer by the railroad, and we'll have some climbing to do—to get into the Rockies."
"Say, supposing we ask the men around here if they saw anything of Merwell and Haskers?" suggested the senator's son.
"It won't do any harm," answered Dave.
Inquiries were made of the baggage-master, a ticket-seller, and half a dozen other men around the depot. But none of them remembered having seen the pair mentioned.
"They probably kept out of sight," was Dave's comment. "They would be afraid we were on their trail, or that we had telegraphed ahead about them."
From the station-master they learned that their train was two hours behind time, and would not reach Butte until late that night. This being so, they left their baggage on check at the depot and took a stroll around, looking at the sights. Then they found a small restaurant and got what they called supper, although it was not a very good meal.
When the train came along it proved to be crowded, for there had been a sale of public and private lands not far away and many of the disappointed would-be buyers were on board.
"We can't take any through passengers," said the conductor, and waved the boys back.
"We only want to go to Butte," answered Roger.
"Oh, all right then. Take the forward car, next to the baggage-car. But I don't think you'll find any seats. We are swamped because of the land sale."
The boys ran forward, after making sure that their baggage was tumbled into a baggage-car. As the conductor had said, the cars were overcrowded, and they had to stand up in the aisle. A number of the men were smoking and they continued to do so, even though it was against the rules.
"Pretty rough-looking crowd," whispered Phil, after the train had started.
"Not all bad," was Dave's comment. "But some of them are certainly the limit," and he nodded towards one crowd that were talking loudly and using language that was anything but choice. In this crowd one fellow in particular, a tall, thin, leathery individual, called by the others Sol Blugg, seemed to be a leading spirit.
About half an hour had passed, and the conductor had just gone through collecting tickets, when the man called Blugg pushed up alongside another man who sat on the arm of a rear seat.
"Say, do you know what Staver jest told me?" he exclaimed.
"No, what?" demanded the other man.
"He says as how he is almost sure Abe Blower put this crimp in our land deal," responded the man called Blugg.
"Abe Blower!" exclaimed the other. "Say, maybe thet's right. Blower ain't got no use fer our crowd. Well, if he did it, he better look out!"
Dave overheard the conversation between the two rough-looking men in the crowded car, and so did Phil and Roger. All glanced at each other suggestively.
"Do you think they are talking about the Abe Blower we want to find?" asked Roger of Dave, in a whisper.
"More than likely, Roger," was the answer. "It is not likely that there are two Abe Blowers in this part of the country. It's not a common name, like Smith."
"Listen," whispered Phil, for the two men had begun to talk again.
"I lost a lot of money by havin' thet land deal fall through," growled the fellow called Blugg.
"So did I," responded the man on the arm of the car seat. "We all did."
"If Abe Blower knows we are on his trail he'll keep out o' sight."
"Maybe; although Blower wa'n't never the fellow to take backwater," responded the other, doubtfully.
"We'll git him yet; see if we don't," was the savage response. And then followed some conversation in such a low tone that the boys could not hear what was said.
But it was easy to surmise one thing, which was that these men hated Abe Blower most cordially. And because of this, and because they had heard that Blower was a strictly upright, honest man, the chums concluded that these fellows in the car had been trying in some manner to put through some land deal that was not strictly fair, and that Abe Blower had foiled their designs.
Presently a third man, a fellow named Larry Jaley, joined the others. All were very bitter against Abe Blower, and each vowed that he would "git square" with the old prospector sooner or later. From their talk the boys learned that the men, along with some others of the crowd, were stopping in Butte at the Solid Comfort House, a place that, so they afterwards learned, bore a very shady reputation. Nothing was said about where Abe Blower was stopping, and the youths did not dare to inquire, for fear of making the men suspicious.
"They might think we were friends of Blower sent to spy on them," said Phil. "They must know we have heard some of their talk."
"If Abe Blower is so well known in Butte it ought to be an easy matter to find him," returned Dave. "We can look for him in the directory and the telephone book, and ask for him at the hotels and mining offices."
"And remember, I have one of his old addresses," said Roger. "Maybe the folks at that place know where he has gone."
It was dark when they rolled into the railroad station at Butte, a typical western mining city, with a population of about thirty-five thousand souls.
"No use in trying to do anything to-night," said Roger, who was tired and knew his chums must be the same. "We'll go to some first-class hotel and start on our hunt for Blower in the morning."
"Yes, I'm dead tired," answered Phil, who had been yawning for the last hour.
The boys had the address of a good hotel, and were soon on the way to the place. They saw the man called Sol Blugg start off down a side street with his companions.
"I wish we would run into Link Merwell and Job Haskers," remarked Dave, as they hurried towards the hotel.
"What good would that do?" demanded the senator's son.
"Then I'd know they hadn't left Butte to look for that lost mine."
"Humph! you don't suppose they are going to find it all in a minute, do you, Dave?" asked Phil.
"No, but an idea just struck me."
"What?" asked both of the others.
"Supposing Merwell and Haskers should hunt up Blower and see what he had to say about the lost mine."
"Phew!" cried Roger. "Do you think they'd dare?"
"They might. They have done some pretty bold things lately. Link is real reckless."
Roger came to a halt on the pavement.
"Maybe we had better hunt for Abe Blower right away," he declared.
"Oh, come on, and get to bed," yawned Phil. "Where are you going to look for him this time of night?"
"I don't know, exactly. But we could make some inquiries."
"Let us go to the hotel first," said Dave. "Then, after we have secured rooms, we can hunt around, if we want to."
A little later they found themselves at the hotel, where they secured two rooms with a bath. At the desk they asked the clerk if he knew an old miner and prospector named Abe Blower.
"Seems to me I've heard the name," replied the clerk. "But I can't just place it. You might ask Tom Dillon, over yonder. He knows all the old-timers in Butte," and the clerk pointed to a man who sat in a corner of the hotel lobby, reading a newspaper.
Tom Dillon, round-faced and white-haired, put down his paper and smiled as the boys came up and addressed him. He was an old-time miner, who had "struck it rich," and who had known how to take care of his wealth.
"Sure, I know most of the old-timers!" he exclaimed, genially, in reply to Roger's question. "Who are you looking for?"
"Let me introduce myself first," said Roger. He gave his name and also those of his chums. "I am the nephew of the late Maurice Harrison, of this place."
"You don't tell me! Maurice's nevvy, eh? Then you must be the son o' Senator Morr, o' the East?"
"Yes."
"Glad to know ye! Put her there, young man!" And Tom Dillon shook hands cordially all around. "Yes, I knowed your uncle well—we did a bit of prospectin' together onct. It broke me all up to hear how he died—so many o' the old-timers droppin' off."
"It was a great shock to our family," replied Roger. "Perhaps you know what brought me to Butte," he continued, looking at the old miner, questioningly.
"To settle up the estate, I reckon."
"In a way, yes. I suppose you have heard about that lost mine?"
"What, the Landslide? Sure. An' she's gone fer good, lad; don't bank on ever findin' it ag'in, for if you do, well, I think ye'll be disapp'inted." And Tom Dillon shook his head slowly.
"You really think it can't be found?" asked Dave.
"I ain't sayin' that. But chances are all ag'in it. Whar that mine was located, the big landslide changed the hull face o' nature, an' all kinds o' landmarks have been teetotally lost."
"Well, I am going to do what I can," put in Roger. "And my two chums are going to help me. But I was going to ask you a question. The clerk suggested that we ask you. Do you know an old miner named Abe Blower?"
"Sure."
"Can you tell me where he is now?"
"He lives with an old lady named Carmody, on the other side o' town. She is some kind o' a relative of his, and came on from the South to keep house fer him. But he ain't home much. He spends most of his time prospectin'. Seems like he can't give it up."
"I wish you'd give me his address," said the senator's son, and, having received it, put it down in a note-book.
As late as it was, it was decided to walk across town to where Abe Blower resided, and the three boys set out without delay.
"I'd get a cab, if any was around," said Roger, who saw how tired Phil was.
"Maybe, Phil, you had better go to bed and let Roger and me go to Blower's home," suggested Dave.
"No, if you go, I'll go too," declared the shipowner's son, who never cared to be left behind when anything was going on.
The place where Abe Blower resided was down at the end of a side street, which, at this hour of the night, was dark and deserted. They had some little difficulty in finding the right number. The house stood back from the street, and not a single light shone within it.
"Everybody gone to bed," announced Dave. "It seems like a shame to wake them up."
"I'll wait till morning," announced the senator's son. "Now we know just where the place is, we can come here directly after breakfast." And so it was settled.
At the hotel Phil found himself so tired that he pitched into bed with scant ceremony. After the long trip on the train, Dave felt that he needed a bath and took it, followed by Roger. Then all went sound asleep, not to awaken until daylight. Then Phil took a good "soak," as he called a bath, and all dressed for an early breakfast. In the dining-room they met Mr. Dillon.
"Find Abe last night?" asked the old miner, with a smile.
"We located the house and are going over there right after we eat," answered the senator's son. "And by the way, Mr. Dillon," he continued. "Do you know any men named Blugg, Jaley, and Staver?"
"Do I!" cried Tom Dillon. "Sure I do, an' so do lots of other folks in these diggin's. What do you know about 'em?"
"We met them on the train."
"Don't ye have nothin' to do with that crowd, lads. They ain't the sort you want to train with, nohow."
"We are not going to train with them," said Dave.
"We thought they were pretty hard customers," added Phil.
"They mentioned Abe Blower and one of them said he thought Blower had queered some sort of a land deal they were trying to put through," continued Roger.
"Is that so! Well, if Abe did that I give him credit for it, I sure do. Those fellers are swindlers, pure an' simple. But they generally work in sech a way that the law can't tech 'em. I ain't got no use for 'em—and I reckon Abe ain't neither," went on the old miner, vigorously. And then he sat down to breakfast with the boys, telling them much about Butte, and the mining country around it, and about what dealings he had had with Roger's uncle.
"A square man he was," he said. "And a great pity the way he dropped off and had his mine lost by a landslide."
The meal over, the three boys lost no time in walking over to the other side of the city, where Abe Blower lived. They found the front windows of the house open and an elderly woman was sweeping off the front stoop with a broom.
"Good-morning," said Roger, politely. "Is this Mrs. Carmody?"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Carmody," was the reply, and the old lady looked questioningly into Roger's face. "I don't seem to remember you," she went on.
"We never met before, Mrs. Carmody," answered Roger, and introduced himself and his chums. "I came to see Mr. Abe Blower."
The woman looked quite bewildered, so much so that the boys were astonished. She dropped her broom.
"Did you say you was Roger Morr?" she gasped, looking at the senator's son.
"Yes."
"Then what brought you here—lookin' fer Abe?"
It was now Roger's turn to be surprised.
"Why do you ask that?" he questioned. "I came because I want to have a talk with him, and maybe get him to help me look for a lost mine."
"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Carmody, and looked more bewildered than ever.
"Isn't Mr. Blower here?" asked Dave. A sudden idea had sprung into his mind.
"Of course he isn't here. I—I—don't understand this at all—really, I don't."
"Don't understand what?" asked Roger.
"Your bein' here, after the letter Abe sent yesterday afternoon. Didn't you say your name was Roger Morr?"
"Yes."
"Then you went off with Abe, didn't you?"
"Me?" cried Roger. "Why, I have never seen him as yet."
"Never seen him!" gasped Mrs. Carmody. "Well, I never! Of all the queer things! What can it mean?" And she walked to a chair on the stoop and sank down heavily.
The boys saw at once that something was wrong. Mrs. Carmody was completely bewildered, and being old, had no easy time of it to collect her wits.
"Do you feel faint?" asked Dave, kindly. "Can I get you a glass of water?"
"No, I'll be all right in a minute. But this beats all, it sure does!" replied the old lady. "Abe wrote that he was going off with a Roger Morr to look for a lost mine, and here you are lookin' for Abe. It sure is a puzzle."
"He wrote that he was going off with me?" ejaculated the senator's son.
"He said Roger Morr. If that's your handle——"
"It certainly is."
"This must be Link Merwell's work!" cried Dave. "Perhaps he met Blower——"
"And impersonated Roger," finished Phil.
"Would he do that?" questioned the senator's son. "Would he dare?"
"He would, if he thought he could get away with the trick," replied Dave. He turned to Mrs. Carmody. "Would you mind letting us see the letter Mr. Blower sent you?"
"Sure. I'll get it. I left it on the table," was the answer, and, getting up, the old lady went into the house. "Come in," she invited. In her younger days she had been used to the rough life of a pioneer and she did not stand on ceremony.
The boys went in, and presently Mrs. Carmody brought forth a letter written in lead pencil on a half-sheet of note paper. It ran as follows: