"Did you think there was anything queer about that man, Dick?" asked Paul, as the three chums sat about the garage, while the chief mechanician looked over the big auto.
"Which man was that? There were so many around us when we got stuck in the creek that I don't remember any special one."
"I mean the chap that suggested you could make a trip to 'Frisco."
"Oh, him. Well, yes, in a way, I did. At least I didn't think I'd give him the satisfaction of letting him guess where we were going."
"I'm glad you didn't."
"Why, Paul?"
"Because I was a bit suspicious of him. Did you notice what he did after we started away?"
"I did not, because I was so busy thinking how lucky we were to get off as we did. What happened?"
"Why, that man—the fellow with the droopy eyes, I'll call him, because his eyes were sort of sleepy looking—he pulled out a note book as we started off, and seemed to be making a record in it."
"Maybe he was a constable, and he thought we might try to speed up after being delayed. He might be looking to get a share of the fine if we were caught," suggested Innis.
"No, he wasn't a constable," declared Paul.
"What makes you so sure?"
"If he was a constable in a country town he'd be some pumpkins, a sort of a Poo-Bah. Instead, no one paid the least attention to him. He might be a constable from somewhere else, but he didn't belong here. He was a stranger, and yet he seemed mightily interested in your car."
"Well, it's a good car—if I do say it myself," responded Dick.
"No, it wasn't that," continued his chum. "That man had some object in view. Dick, do you know what I think?"
"I give up, Paul. You think so much that you have me guessing. What is it now?"
"I think that man was one of Uncle Ezra's spies!"
"What!" cried Dick.
Paul repeated his words.
"Whew!" exclaimed Dick in a whisper, as he pretended to wipe his brow. "This is the limit! Aren't we ever to get away from my Uncle Ezra?"
"Don't misunderstand me," said Paul, quickly. "I'm not an alarmist, and I don't want to be a false prophet, but that fellow acted suspiciously to me."
"I think so too," added Innis.
"Queer I didn't notice it," said Dick, slowly, "but I guess I was so busy thinking about my car that I didn't pay much attention to him. I noticed that he looked in our parlor, so to speak, and——"
He interrupted himself to cross the garage, and peer into the interior of the big machine, underneath which was a workman taking out the damaged brake, ready to put in a new one.
"It's there, all right," said our hero, with an air of relief.
"What?" asked Innis.
"The envelope with the legal papers. Paul's talk gave me a scare. I thought that man might have made off with 'em!"
"No, he didn't get a chance for that," said Paul. "I watched him too closely. But he did get me suspicious, all right. However, we're here, and we'll soon be far enough away."
"Maybe," said Dick. "I'm not going to take any chances on those brakes after the experience we had. They've got to be perfect, and if we have to lay over a day or so, we'll do it. How about it?" he asked the man, who was crawling out from under the big car.
The talk of the young men had been carried on in low tones until Dick asked this question.
"She'll have to come out, and a new band be put on," the workman said.
"How long will it take?"
"Two days. I've either got to send for a new one, or forge one myself."
"Then make it here," said Dick. "If you send for one there may be a factory delay, and I don't want that. If you can fix it do so."
"I can," said the garage man. "This is a special type of car, and no one would probably have that brake in stock. I can make it."
Dick then arranged with him to do the work, and the three chums, after getting some of their belongings out of the car, started off toward the village.
"Where are we going to stay to-night?" asked Innis, as they walked slowly along the country road.
"In our car!" said Dick, quickly.
"What? When there's a fairly good hotel in the village?" asked Innis.
"This talk of Paul's has made me a bit nervous," went on our hero. "I think I'd feel safer if I slept in theLast Word. I can fix it with the garage man, I think. And if any of Uncle Ezra's spies are hanging about they may try to disable my car if they can't get their hands on the legal papers. They might do it out of spite."
"That's right," agreed Innis. "Where are the papers now, Dick?"
"Back in the car."
"Don't you think that's risky?"
"No more so than carrying them about with me. I'm a sort of fatalist. I believe if a thingis going to happen it will happen. But I'll do all I can to stop it.
"They're less likely to think the papers are in the car than that I have them. And even if they do pull out that advertising envelope, and look in it, all they'll see at first glance will be an auto catalog. I took the precaution of slipping the legal sheets between the pages of the booklet."
"Good, Dick. But supposing the place catches fire?" asked Paul.
"Oh, you've got to take some chances in this world, old man; eh, Grit?" and he patted the head of the bulldog that trotted along with the boys toward the village.
The boys found the town to be a picturesque one, well worth visiting, and there was a good restaurant in it. There they got a meal, sort of half-way between dinner and supper, and they arranged to come back later for something to eat before turning in on the bunks of the auto.
"And there's a moving picture show in town," exclaimed Innis, as they were walking back to the garage. "I vote we take that in."
"All right," assented Dick. "It will relieve the monotony if we have to lay over here two days."
The owner of the garage readily gave the boys permission to occupy their car while it was in his establishment, and the lads made a change of clothes, for they were rather disheveled by the work of getting the auto out of the creek.
Shortly before dusk they made their way to the village again, and after a good supper they headed for the moving picture theatre.
In spite of the small size of the town, the exhibition was a good one. It was interspersed with vaudeville acts, and as this happened to be "amateur" night, it was quite late when our friends came out.
"Well, it was pretty good; wasn't it?" remarked Dick, as he linked his arms in those of his chums.
"Not half bad—for a change," assented Innis. "What's the game for to-morrow?"
"Oh, we'll have to hang over here, I guess. But I understand there's a baseball game between two country nines and we can take that in. It will be sport."
"That's the cheese!" exclaimed Paul.
They were in the midst of the crowd that had thronged from the moving picture show. A number of pretty girls were bunched together, and from their midst came voices that could be heard to remark about the identity of our heroes, as the youths were spoken of as "the millionaire autoists."
"We're getting a reputation already," whispered Innis.
"That's Dick's fault," said Paul.
"I haven't said a word," retorted that youth. "You fellows must have been talking."
Gradually the crowd thinned out, and the three chums found themselves walking along a ratherdark country road toward the garage where theLast Wordhad been left.
For a while they talked among themselves of the adventures of the day, and then a silence settled down. They were all tired and anxious to get to bed.
"Is that some one ahead of us, or behind us?" suddenly asked Dick, coming to a halt.
"I don't hear anything," said Innis.
"Me either," added Paul.
"Walk on a bit and then listen," suggested Dick.
"There is some one sort of keeping time to our footsteps, fellows," spoke Paul a little later.
"But are they ahead or behind us?" asked Dick. "I've been hearing it for some time."
"Ahead of us," said Innis.
"Behind," was Paul's opinion.
The three came to a halt in the roadway and listened. This time, instead of the footsteps becoming silent, they were more plain.
"They're coming," whispered Paul.
A voice hailed them from the darkness.
"Say, is this the road to Centreville?"
"No, you're going the wrong way," replied Dick. "Centreville is behind you."
"Huh! That's funny!" some one remarked. "We must be all twisted up. Wait a second, will you," and from the darkness could be heard footsteps quickly approaching.
"Have you the time?"
It was the voice of one of those who were approaching our hero and his two chums, they having come to a halt at the request for information.
"Oh, what does it matter?" some one else asked, and then Dick could see that three men were hurrying toward them out of the darkness.
"I just wanted to see how late it was," went on the one who had apparently spoken first. "Sorry to trouble you," he added, "but we're strangers here, and we seem to have lost our way."
"It's no trouble—if we can direct you," said the young millionaire. "We're strangers here ourselves."
"It's a little after eleven," announced Paul, looking at his watch as well as he could by the starlight. As he spoke one of the men made a sudden motion toward him.
"Not him! The other!" some one exclaimed sharply.
Before the three knew what was happening they were seized by the three men—seized and roughly mauled.
"Here! What does this mean?" demanded Dick, hotly, as he struck out vigorously.
"It's a hold-up!" yelled Innis. "Lay into 'em, fellows!"
"Let go of me!" insisted Paul, as he swung himself loose from his antagonist and dealt him a stinging blow that staggered the fellow.
The man, with a smothered exclamation, recovered himself, and rushed back at Paul. In the meanwhile Innis and his assailant were having a tussle. As for Dick, after that first outcry, he had held his voice, but he was struggling desperately with the man in the darkness. He could feel hands moving over his body, inserting themselves in his various pockets.
"They're thieves!" he cried. "Help! Help!"
There was no answer save the echo of his own voice, broken by the panting breaths of the three men, who seemed to want to do their work in silence.
By a powerful right-hand swing Paul sent his man to the ground with a thud that knocked the breath from his body, and the fellow did not get up again immediately.
"Let go of me!" yelled Innis. "Keep your hands out of my pockets!"
He tore himself loose from the man's grip, and shoved the fellow aside, so that he fell on top of the one Paul had knocked down.
"Help! Help!" yelled Innis. "Thieves! Grit! Grit!"
"Grit isn't here!" panted Dick, wishing with all his heart that his pet had not been left in the garage to keep watch and ward over the auto. Our hero was struggling fiercely with his man.
By this time the one Paul had knocked down was getting up, being assisted by the fellow Innis had pushed from him. Dick managed to get one arm free and he dashed his clenched fist full into the face of his attacker.
He could feel the force of the blow, and he knew he must have caused the footpad considerable pain, for there was a grunt of protest.
"Here they come again!" said Innis, fiercely. "Back to back, fellows, and we can stand 'em off!"
Now that the first instinctive fear at the attack in the dark had passed off, the three youths felt a fierce joy in the coming conflict. It was like a battle on the football gridiron, only with greater odds.
Dick, Paul and Innis moved close together, being free for the moment from their assailants. Then from down the road could be heard the sound of footsteps running rapidly. The men paused, listened a moment, and then the one who had attacked Dick exclaimed:
"Come on. He hasn't it with him!"
At once the three men turned and raced off in the darkness, away from the sound of the approaching footsteps. For a moment the threechums remained in a sort of triangular posture of defense, hardly knowing what it was all about, since it had taken place so quickly.
"Are—are we all here?" Dick finally managed to gasp.
"It seems so," replied Paul. "What happened, anyhow? Was it a joke?"
"My nose doesn't feel that way," said Innis.
"No, and I guess I gave one of those fellows something that he'll remember for a day or so," went on Paul. "But what in the world were they after?"
"Something that I left back in the auto," replied Dick, grimly.
"What! Those papers?"
"That's it. The fellow who had me went all through my pockets while he was rough-housing me. First I thought he was after my watch and money, but when he didn't take them, I knew what he wanted."
"They went through my pockets, too," confessed Innis.
"Same here," added Paul.
"Did they get anything?" asked Dick, quickly.
The lads made a hasty search, and both reported that they had lost nothing. At that moment a man came running up.
Instinctively the three chums got ready for a renewal of hostilities, but they soon saw they had nothing to fear, even had not the man spoken, for he was an honest-appearing chap.
"What—what's the matter?" he panted. "Did you call for help?"
"We did," replied Dick, "but we don't need any now; thank you."
"What was it?"
"Somebody tried to hold us up," went on the young millionaire, not caring to go into all the details. "But we beat 'em off."
"That's good. Were they three rough-looking fellows?"
"There were three of 'em, all right," said Paul, "and I guess they're a little more rough-looking than they were at first; eh, boys?"
"Sure thing," remarked Innis, tenderly touching some of his bruises.
"I'm a watchman down the road a ways, at a new building just going up," the man went on. "I saw these fellows go past, and I didn't like their looks and actions. They were talking about getting something off some one, and——"
"I guess they were talking about us," interrupted Dick. "They probably saw us in the moving picture place, and followed us. They asked for the time, and pretended they had missed their way. That was only to get us to halt, of course. But we're well out of it, all right."
"Did they get much?"
"Nothing," said Paul. "We're much obliged to you for coming."
"I came as soon as I heard you call. Oh,you're the fellows with the big auto; aren't you?" he went on, as he came close and made out the faces of the three in the starlight.
"That's us," said Dick. "I guess we might as well go on, boys," he added to his chums. "I want some arnica for this bump I got."
"Which way did the men go?" the watchman wanted to know, and when the boys had indicated it, and had themselves started to go in the same direction, to reach the garage where theLast Wordwas waiting for them, the watchman went on: "Aren't you afraid they'll tackle you again? They may be waiting down the road for you."
Dick shook his head.
"They found out we didn't have what they wanted," he remarked, "and they won't bother us any more. Come on, boys."
"Huh! Queer robbers," observed the watchman, and he turned away after the boys had thanked him for his prompt response to their calls for help.
"Do you really think those men were after the papers, Dick?" asked Paul.
"I'm sure of it," answered his friend. "It was all part of the game Uncle Ezra is playing, but I'm getting tired of it. This is the limit! It's got to stop!"
"Are you going to tell him so?" asked Innis, as they walked along.
"No, but I'm going to make a change in our plans. We'll fool 'em—we'll get off the beatentrack and go off into the unknown until we put plenty of space behind us. Then they'll have their own troubles tracing us."
"That does seem the best way," assented Paul. "It's no fun to be on the verge of an attack at any time. The game is too one-sided. We'll make it harder for them."
"That's my idea," said Dick, as they neared the garage, having seen no further signs of the three men.
They found the big car undisturbed, with Grit ready to give them a noisy welcome.
"I wish we'd had you along a while ago, old fellow," remarked Dick, as he patted his dog. "I guess those fellows wouldn't have been quite so fresh. But maybe it's just as well as it is, for I wouldn't want any of them chewed up."
"How do you figure it out?" asked Paul, as they got themselves a little lunch before turning in.
"Why, Uncle Ezra, or whoever he's hired to turn this trick, knew where we would be at a certain day, I suppose," said Dick. "The men were on the watch, and, when we arrived, they just kept tabs on us. The rest was easy enough."
"Only you didn't happen to carry the papers with you," added Innis.
"No, it was a good trick to leave 'em here," assented our hero, as he looked in the advertising envelope behind the mirror, to make sure thatthe documents were safe. "Well, they won't try it on again in a hurry. In the morning we'll figure out a new route that will bring us to 'Frisco in time to file the papers."
It was no very difficult task, with their road maps, to do this, and having seen the garage man start on the work of repairing the brakes, Dick and his chums strolled into town. They managed to find some points of interest, and also took in the ball game, and, though the repairs took three days, instead of two, they did not regret their little stop-over.
"We've got plenty of time," said Dick, "and from now on we'll shift about on our route. I'm anxious to get out in the West."
"So am I!" added Paul.
Once more they were under way, but they did not head for Chicago, as they had intended.
"Too much is likely to happen there," decided Dick. "We might as well have a brass band with us, as this big car. So the thing to do is to avoid the big cities."
This they did. As events of very little interest occurred during the next week, I shall skim over that period, only saying that the lads had no further trouble, except an occasional bad road to travel, and a storm to journey through.
Farther and farther west they worked their way, until one morning saw them in Salt Lake City, Utah. This was on their original schedule, but Dick and his chums figured that they hadso shifted about that their enemies must have lost their trail by this time.
"Of course they may be waiting for us here," said Dick, "but they won't get much chance at us. We'll keep on the outskirts of town, and after we get what supplies we need we'll strike out into the desert."
"The desert!" exclaimed Paul. "That sounds lonely enough."
"It will be," asserted the young millionaire, "and we'll have to take along an extra amount of water and gasoline. But we'll keep near the line of the Western Pacific railroad, and in case of trouble we can get help."
That afternoon they started off, having stocked the big car well. They made a quick run to the Great Salt Lake, paused to wonder at it, and then headed for the great desert. Off into its loneliness they steered, wondering what lay before them.
"Say it sure is lonesome; isn't it?"
"No mistake about it. If this isn't the jumping-off place, it's next door to it."
"I'd hate to be caught here without water or a means of getting away."
Thus, in turn, Dick, Paul and Innis expressed themselves as they sat in the big car, panting and uncomfortable from the heat of a summer day, making a pretense of eating. It was almost too warm for that, however.
"Well, there's one consolation, we can leave whenever we like," remarked Dick. "I'll start whenever you fellows say so."
"Well, let's get a move on," suggested Paul. "There's a little breeze when we're in motion, but there isn't any now."
They put away the remains of the meal and were soon moving over the great salt desert of Utah, it being their second day on it. They had been delayed by a slight accident or they would have made better time across it.
However, they did not regret the time spent, for it was a new and wonderful experience for them, and one they would long remember.
The big car, aside from the slight break which Dick and his chums had been able to mend themselves, was behaving to perfection. In it they could cross with ease and comparative comfort this terrible stretch of country, where many of the early settlers had given up their lives.
Dick had taken the precaution to put on, over the big cushion tires, a sort of steel-studded leather shoe, which gave a larger surface, so that the wheels would not sink down so far in the sand, for theLast Wordwas of no light weight.
In addition, strips of canvas were carried so that when they came to a particularly sandy place these strips could be laid down, like boards across a mud puddle, and the auto sent over them, turn and turn about. Of course that would be slow progress, but it was better than stalling.
They saw little of other travelers. Occasionally a mule team would be observed, and now and then they came in sight of the railroad, and watched a train dash along it. But, in the main, they picked out their own route, having learned in Salt Lake City of the one most available for autos.
At no time were they very far from the railroad line, but they did not follow it too closely. For, as Dick said, "What was the use of coming out on a tour if you kept in touch with civilization all the while?"
So they broke their own trail as far as was practicable, and enjoyed the experience. Water—for themselves and the car—was their main worry, but they had a goodly supply with them. To drink Dick had provided several large vacuum bottles of ice-cold lemonade, and, though of course the frigid temperature could not be retained indefinitely, the liquid was still quite cool and refreshing after several hours of bottling.
"Well, this sure has been a great experience for us," declared Paul, as the big car moved off over the desert.
"I should say yes," agreed Dick. "I wouldn't have missed it for a farm."
"Not even with all the trouble Uncle Ezra made?" asked Innis.
"No, even with that. But he hasn't bothered us lately," said our hero, patting Grit, who sat on the seat beside him, Paul driving the car for a change.
"I guess he's lost track of us," suggested Innis. "We haven't had a sight of any of his pesky men since that encounter in the dark."
"No," assented Dick, "but you never can tell where he will crop up. He may be laying low for us. Though I don't expect there'll be any more fighting until it comes time to file those papers. Then he may try to block me in a legal way."
"What can you do?" asked Paul.
"I don't know, until the time comes. Dad told me to wire him in case of trouble, and ask hisadvice. Maybe I'll have to depend somewhat on Mr. Ainslie, the California lawyer."
"Say, it seems to me you're going to a lot of trouble to save a fortune for a fellow you don't know very well, and who doesn't seem to take much interest in it himself," observed Innis.
"Who, Wardell?" asked Dick.
"Sure. That's who I mean."
"You don't understand," said the young millionaire, softly. "In the first place, Mr. Wardell would make the biggest kind of a fight for himself, if he were here. But I think he's doing the right thing, to try to start life over again, for there's nothing sure about saving his fortune for him. The courts may decide against him at the last minute. But there's a chance in his favor, and I'm taking it for him.
"Some day Mr. Wardell is going to know that it's my uncle who played him this trick, but if he knows that I did my best to offset it, why, that's going to square it; isn't it?"
"I suppose so," agreed Innis.
"And Wardell is a mighty fine chap," went on Dick. "Of course that day when Paul and I saw him on the railroad bank he had sort of lost his nerve. You can't blame him for that. I'm not a bit sorry over what I'm trying to do for him."
"Oh, no, of course not. Only it's a lot of trouble for a stranger."
"Well, I'm not doing it altogether for him,"said Dick. "I'm thinking of the honor of our family. I wouldn't want it said that any of my relatives ruined a man, even if it was legal."
"Good for you!" cried Paul. "Say, the trail is leading us back toward the railroad, I think."
"Yes, it does come near the line about here," agreed Dick, as he consulted a map. "So much the better. We may strike a water tank. Our supply isn't any too large."
The big car slowly made its way over the desert. They were not trying for any speed, since the clinging sand made progress difficult, and they did not want to put too much of a strain on the wheels and motor.
It seemed to get hotter as they proceeded, though the breeze of the electric fan in the car was grateful. But even the air in motion seemed to come out of some oven, laden with the smell of baking earth.
"Whew!" exclaimed Paul, when they had gone on about a mile further, and had come in sight of the railroad. "Take her a while, Innis. My hands are tired from trying to hold the wheel steady. She wabbles a lot."
"I'll guide," said Dick.
"No, let me," urged his other chum, so he was given charge.
TheLast Wordran along well, and they were beginning to think of looking for a good location to spend the night, since it was evidentthat they would need another day to cross the desert.
Suddenly Dick, who had been looking ahead, uttered an exclamation, and made a grab for the gasoline lever.
"Stop her!" he cried to Innis. But it was too late. The car sank down several inches into a particularly soft and yielding stretch of sand.
"Wow!" cried Innis, as he saw into what he had steered.
"Never mind," consoled Dick. "It couldn't be helped. I didn't see it in time. I guess we'll have to use the canvas strips to cross this stretch. It's as wide as all get-out, and we might get into something worse if we tried to go around it. Come on, fellows; get busy!"
They leaped out, taking light wooden shovels from the back of the auto, where they had been fastened on purpose to be used on the desert sand. Then the canvas strips were brought into use, Paul and Innis stretching them in front of the wheels, while Dick drove the car over them.
The broad surface of the sail cloth, coupled with the wide tires, served to keep the machine from settling much, but their progress was slow, and after an hour or so of it Dick announced:
"Let's give up until morning. I'm dead tired, and it's too hot to work any more. We'll just camp here, have grub, and go to sleep. There's going to be a moon, and when it comes up we can work in the cool of the night."
"That's the ticket!" exclaimed Innis. "Though don't stop on my account," he urged. "I got you into this hole, and I'll help to get you out."
"You didn't get us in at all," declared Dick. "I'd have run into this soft stretch as soon as you. Knock off and we'll eat."
The rest was welcome. As the sun began to set they looked over toward the distant railroad, the rails of which could be seen glittering in the fading light. Something not far off stirred in a faint breeze.
"What's that?" asked Paul.
"Part of a newspaper," said Dick, as he caught sight of it. "Probably some passenger tossed it out of a car window. I'm going to have a look at it. Maybe it isn't more than a month old, and there'll be something in it to read. The next time I come touring I'm going to bring along part of a library."
He strolled toward the fragment of paper, which was held down by a little mound of shifting sand. Paul and Innis were getting the meal ready. Suddenly they were startled by a cry from Dick. He was staring at the paper.
"What's the matter?" asked Paul.
"Matter, fellows! Look here! If this isn't bad news I don't know what is."
"Somebody dead you know?" inquired Innis.
"No, but this paper is only two days old. It must have been tossed away to-day. And it'sgot something in it about that railroad in which Wardell's fortune is tied up."
"What is it?" demanded Paul.
"Why, it says that a new turn has been given the fight for the control of the stock. Instead of waiting until September to settle the case, it's going to be forced to a settlement now. New information has been given that puts an entirely different light on matters, and certain Eastern interests are said to be going to gobble up the whole outfit.
"Fellows, I can see Uncle Ezra's hand in this. He's found out he can't get those papers away from me, and he's going to make them of no use by hurrying this game to a finish before I have time to get to 'Frisco!"
"How's that?" asked Paul.
"Why, the whole thing, according to this paper, is scheduled to be settled a week from to-day."
"You can get to 'Frisco before then!" exclaimed Innis.
"Yes, I know I can, but what good will it do me? I can't file these papers before the date set. You see they've stolen a march on us. Uncle Ezra has had his lawyers act and they've brought matters to a head sooner than was expected.
"These legal papers I have are useless after all our work in saving them, and Wardell's fortune will be lost! Hang it all! Did you ever see such bad luck?" and Dick vigorously shook the newspaper he had picked up on the desert.
"Say, Dick," requested Paul, "just calm down a bit, and sort of explain things."
"Yes, he's got me going," added Innis, pausing in the act of frying some eggs for supper.
"Why, it's plain enough," said Dick. "Here is a piece of a San Francisco paper, and it has in it an account of this railroad lawsuit. The case come up in 'Frisco, you know," he added. "The paper was probably tossed out of the car window by some man who got tired of it, and I almost wish I hadn't found it."
"Why?" Paul wanted to know.
"Because it makes me feel bad. To think that all my hard work is thrown away."
"But is it?" asked Innis.
"It looks so. This is how I figure it out. As soon as Uncle Ezra finds out he couldn't block my game to save Mr. Wardell's fortune by getting the legal papers away from me, he starts off on a new tack. He has his lawyers look up other means for getting control of this railroad, and they find one, it seems.
"From what I can gather, by reading this article, a new witness has cropped up. He gavetestimony in court that knocks out Wardell, and makes his claim valueless. Under the new ruling, Uncle Ezra and those associated with him can go ahead and, inside of a week, get possession of the railroad stock so that Mr. Wardell can't redeem it.
"You see, it was this way: This Wardell had this stock left to him by his father. It was worth considerable. In fact, it virtually made him owner of the railroad, though of course he didn't operate it. Then, foolishly, he puts up that stock as security for a loan with Uncle Ezra, and invests the money in something else.
"He loses it—I guess Uncle Ezra intended he should, and of course if he can't pay it back Uncle Ezra will get the railroad. But from what my dad and I understood there was a time limit set by which Wardell would have another show for his white alley—I mean that he'd get a chance to go to court, and say he had been cheated and would like more time to raise the money to buy back his railroad stock.
"That's the plan I've been working on, and that's what these legal papers covered. Now it seems this new witness makes it all look like an ice cream cone on a hot day. Unless the money is paid inside of a week Wardell will forfeit all his stock to Uncle Ezra. Oh, it's a cute game, all right, and there doesn't seem to be any way to beat it," said Dick, bitterly.
"Maybe if we hurried into San Francisco,"suggested Paul, "and saw this witness, we could explain things to him, and ask him to hold off until Mr. Wardell could get here."
"No chance of that," said Dick. "Wardell is in South America—the land knows where. We can't reach him in time."
"But if we could find this witness," persisted Paul.
"He's disappeared, so this newspaper article says," remarked Dick. "That's another funny part of it. It looks like a hold-off game, spiriting the witness away in that fashion, and yet what can we do? Even if we got to 'Frisco before the end of the week, which we could easily do, by abandoning the car and taking a train, what good would it do? We couldn't offset the testimony of this witness."
"It does look as though we were up against it," assented Paul.
"Good and hard," agreed Dick.
"Well, let's have grub," suggested Innis, practically. "It's almost ready. And maybe after supper we'll find a way out."
But even after the meal, eaten amid the silence of the salt desert, their gloomy thoughts were not dispersed. They sat about, moody and quiet, until Paul, with a sarcastic exclamation, cried out:
"Say, this is the limit. Let's do a song and dance, or something like that."
"There is a phonograph stowed awaysomewhere among my things," said Dick with a laugh that had no mirth in it.
"Trot it out and give us a tune," urged Innis, and, after a moment's thought, Dick complied. Anything was better than sitting about, thinking gloomy thoughts. And really he felt keenly his failure so unexpectedly disclosed by that stray piece of newspaper.
All his hard work—his skill in keeping the legal documents away from the cunning emissaries of Uncle Ezra—had gone for naught, in case it were true what he had read. And he had no reason to doubt it. The paper was a reliable publication, and the names of lawyers were mentioned who had a national reputation.
Of course, in a measure, it was a case of "high finance," perhaps not strictly moral, but perfectly legal. Certain interests wanted control of the railroad, and even Uncle Ezra might be simply a catspaw in the game.
Yet it seemed certain that unless something were done—some sort of legal protest or injunction entered—the Wardell fortune would be wiped out. And this Dick did not want to see happen.
Paul was at the phonograph, adjusting the mechanism. He had slipped in a record containing "My Old Kentucky Home," and soon its strains were vibrating out on the desert air.
The phonograph was not particularly good, for it was too small to have any sweetness, and yet,even with that handicap, the boys enjoyed the "canned music," as Dick called it.
As the chorus welled out, they joined in with the voice of the singer coming from the horn.
"'My old Kentucky home—good night!'"
"'My old Kentucky home—good night!'"
"'My old Kentucky home—good night!'"
"'My old Kentucky home—good night!'"
There was a pause, and as the chorus was repeated more softly, the boys lowered their voices. They had sung in the glee club at Kentfield Military Academy, and their tones were true and pure. In the darkness of the starlight night, on that lonely desert, the music seemed to gather strength and sweetness.
Then, as the chorus neared the end, the three chums were startled to hear, off in the distance, another voice joining in with theirs, blending perfectly, in a rich baritone.
They stopped singing, so startled were they, for they thought themselves all alone, and the unseen voice carried the air alone, accompanied only by the phonograph.
Then, as the last echoes died away, Dick Hamilton jumped to his feet and called out:
"Who is there?"
For a moment, following Dick's challenge, there was no answer, and then, off in the darkness, beyond the circle of light from the campfire, made of pieces of a broken wagon the boys had found, came a voice, saying:
"I am a stranger in a strange land. Who are you that you make the night melodious with your music and song?"
The boys felt the tension leave them as they heard the note of culture in the voice, for plainly they had to deal with a gentleman of birth and breeding.
"Come on up, and make yourself at home," invited Dick. "Are you lost? Hungry or thirsty, perhaps?"
"Neither one nor the other, may it please you," was the somewhat whimsical retort. "Yet I will join you if only for a little while. Then I must get back, or my guards will be thinking that I have escaped."
"Guards," murmured Paul, in a low voice. "He must be a prisoner—but in this lonely place——"
"I thought we were the only ones here," added Innis.
"Hush! Here he comes!" cautioned our hero.
A man advanced into the glare of the firelight. He was seen to be a young fellow, of about twenty-five perhaps, of rather frail build, dressed in a negligee costume, well suited to that hot climate, and yet his clothing, as Innis instinctively noticed, was well tailored and fitted him perfectly. Innis was more fastidious about his dress than either of his chums, and naturally noticed the garments of others more closely.
"Greeting, fair sirs!" exclaimed the newcomer. "It is very kind of you to extend your hospitality to a stranger, and I thank you. Permit me to make myself known to you. I am Harry Cameron, sometime of San Francisco, at present of the desert waste; an engineer by profession, a dilly-dallier of verse by avocation, and actually in durance vile for the time being. Such is my brief but not unhappy history."
The three chums looked at one another, hardly knowing what to make of their visitor, who took a seat on part of the old broken wagon—a "prairie schooner" of a bygone age—and stretched out his legs in a comfortable attitude, gazing at Dick's party.
"An escaped lunatic," thought Innis, rather thankful that the stranger seemed to be of the mild type.
"Somebody who has been crazed by the heat perhaps," was Paul's mental comment. Yet he could not account for the freshness of the man's appearance and attire.
"He's stringing us," was Dick's thought. "Well, if he is, I'll give him as good as he sends." Then he spoke:
"We are college professors, searching in the desert for traces of a lost glacier, last reported to be headed for the salt lake. We want to get some specimens of the tail."
The young man started, looked keenly at Dick, and then, with a quizzical smile, remarked:
"You are pleased to joke, I see. I wish I had the chance to accompany you on your search. But it is denied me. Still, lest perchance you think that I, too, am a jester, there is my card," and, with a quick and skillful motion, he scaled a bit of pasteboard over so that it fell exactly on Dick's outstretched leg. "He who sits may read," went on Mr. Cameron.
Dick picked up the card, feeling a little ashamed of his bantering retort. By the light of the fire he read the name as given by their visitor. There was also an address in San Francisco, and, the letters C. E.—denoting his profession.
"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Dick, quickly. "I—er—I thought——"
"You thought I was stringing you, I guess," interrupted Mr. Cameron, with a smile. "I was not. I'll tell you——"
"I beg your pardon," interrupted Dick. "Let me introduce myself and my friends," and he presented Paul and Innis in turn, and mentioned his own name.
"And the glacier?" asked Mr. Cameron.
"Was a joke, too," said Dick. "We are merely traveling for pleasure. That is our car," and he waved toward where theLast Wordwas fast in the sand. "We ran into a sort of bog hole and decided to wait until morning to extricate ourselves. But where are you staying?" Dick asked, looking around on the sandy waste, now shrouded in darkness.
"Over there," replied Mr. Cameron, with an indefinite wave of his hand in the direction whence he had come. "We are camping out."
"Camping out!" exclaimed Paul. "In this desert?"
"It does seem rather foolish; doesn't it?" asked their visitor. "And the reasons are peculiar. I was thinking so myself as I strolled out after supper, and saw the gleam of your campfire. I wanted to see who else was as foolish as my friends."
"Then you have friends with you?" asked Innis.
"They call themselves such," was the answer, "but I prefer to think of them as my guards."
"Guards!" cried Dick.
"I surprise you, I see. Let me explain why I am out in this sandy waste. I am a lost man!"and he waved his hand with a gentle air, as though being lost was the most delightful of occupations.
"Lost!" murmured Paul, again wondering whether they did not have an insane man to deal with.
"Legally lost, perhaps I should have said," went on Mr. Cameron. "As you are not likely to interfere with the plans of my—er—friends, and as you will probably never think of the matter again, I shall tell you the circumstances. Particularly as those who call themselves my friends don't want me to.
"I like being different, and doing the unexpected," he continued. "Also because it will give those fellows back there something to worry about, I am going to tell you a secret. I won't even ask you not to repeat it, because I don't see what object you could have in doing so.
"Know, then, that I am sequestered here in this desert in order that I may not jeopardize certain interests in giving testimony in a big lawsuit. I am to be kept out of the way for a certain time, and I am well paid for being lost. I have promised, for a certain stipulated sum, and because of certain representations made to me, not to go back to beloved 'Frisco until after September third.
"Should I go, certain persons who are antagonistic to those who have hired me, might get hold of me, compel me to give certain testimonyin court, and then—as the poet would say—all the fat would be in the fire. So I have to stay here where the other fellows can't find me, and—well, I am as happy as I can be, in such a dog's hole! It is the most out-of-the-way place they could find to conceal me, and yet be within touch of civilization. There you have the story in a nutshell. And when September third comes, I shall hie me back to civilization."
During this recital Dick's wonder had been growing. He could scarcely believe what he heard, and the odd part of it was that it fitted so in with the scheme he had undertaken to help Mr. Wardell.
Paul and Innis also felt a growing wonder, for they knew some of the details of Dick's plan to save the Wardell fortune.
"Now you understand why I am here," went on Mr. Cameron. "There is a water hole about a mile from here, and one of those rare occurrences in the desert, a little oasis of trees, and a hill. There we have made a camp, which not one in a thousand would ever find. We are comfortable enough, in a way, but I lack for society.
"That is why, wandering away, I saw the gleam of your fire, and hearing the music, I could not help but join in. I trust you will pardon me. But when you have with you two men who do nothing all day but smoke cigarettes, and play some mysterious card game known as 'Seven-up' and whose only conversation seems to bealong the line of said game—why, life gets rather monotonous, you see."
"I should say so," agreed Dick. And then he resolved on a bold plan. Mr. Cameron had revealed something without being asked. Dick was under no promise of silence. And he saw a chance to defeat the enemies of Mr. Wardell.
"Can it be, by any chance, Mr. Cameron," the young millionaire asked, "that your case has any connection with the Citrous Junction Railway?"
"It has!" cried the engineer, springing to his feet. "But how did you guess it? I never mentioned it—I was careful about that."
"No, you did not," agreed Dick, "but your mention of the date—September third—gave me the clue."
"You are looking for clues, then?"
"In a way, yes. I am seeking some means of getting back to Mr. Wardell the control of the railroad that is about to be taken from him. I was on my way to San Francisco to file a certain paper before September third—the date you mentioned. By the merest accident, happening to pick up a newspaper, probably tossed from a train, I learned that my efforts would be of no avail, because of testimony given by a new witness. And you——"
"I am that witness!" cried Mr. Cameron. "Great Scott! but this is queer. To think of me telling the secret to some one—in all the world—who knew the other half of it. It'sastounding! May I ask how you figure in it?"
"Because my uncle, Mr. Ezra Larabee, is the man who is trying to get Mr. Wardell's fortune, and, for the honor of the family, I am trying to prevent him."
"You Ezra Larabee's nephew! Well, of all things in the world that I should meet you here! Why, young man, Ezra Larabee—or, rather, his agent—is paying me to remain away so that the other side can't get hold of me. For, you must know that Mr. Wardell does not own all the stock in the railroad. There are some minor shareholders, and it is they who are trying to get me to go to court on their behalf. But I have accepted money from Mr. Larabee, and, as far as I know, he is in the right. I cannot go back on him, merely because you happen to be for the other side.
"And so you are Larabee's nephew. You don't look much like him, which is a consolation."
"Have you seen him?" asked Dick.
"He came to 'Frisco to see me," explained Mr. Cameron. "He made a flying trip, and hurried back so as to save the other half of his excursion ticket, which was limited."
"That's like him," laughed Dick.
"It seems so. Well, he made certain representations, and it seemed that he was in the right. He hired me to disappear, and so you behold—a lost man."
Dick thought for a moment.
"Would you mind telling me," he said, "just what your testimony consists of?"
"Well, since you know so much, perhaps it can do no harm to tell you more. I am, as I said, a civil engineer. When this contest over the railroad came up, I was engaged to make certain maps and copies of records. It seems that the Citrous Junction is a short line, connecting two important trunk lines in a well-known orange region. That is what gives it its importance.
"Accidentally, while going over some old records, I came across some papers that changed the whole situation. I am not enough of a lawyer to know just how, except that if the papers were produced in court this Mr. Wardell and the other stockholders, no matter what was done by the other side, would get their rights. Mr. Larabee and his crowd could not keep them from so doing.
"I showed to those who had hired me the papers I had found, and at once there was a great how-de-do. It was plainly seen that if they were allowed to get into court your uncle's case would be knocked higher than Gilderoy's kite, even if Wardell did not file certain papers which, I understand, could, at one time, have been filed.
"Your uncle and his lawyers determined on a bold move. They had me give certain testimony that would knock out the other side if they should file certain papers, and then they had medisappear, so I could not be brought into court to give the rest of my evidence and tell of the old document I had accidentally discovered. So I agreed to come to this lonely place, to live until after September third. After that date nothing Wardell can do will save the railroad for himself and the others associated with him."
"And you agreed to do this?" asked Dick, bitterly. "You consented to see a man cheated out of his fortune?"
"Not at all," said Mr. Cameron, calmly. "As it was represented to me this Mr. Wardell tried to do others out of their holdings, and he got caught at his own game. That is why I agreed to do something that, while perfectly legal, might be considered a trick. I did it to help out your Uncle Ezra."
"If I were to show you," went on our hero, "that matters had been misrepresented to you, and that you were doing Mr. Wardell a grave injustice, what would you do?"
"Misrepresented!" cried Mr. Cameron. "If you can prove to me that they've been fooling me—telling me things that aren't so—for the purpose of keeping me out of court, why, Dick Hamilton, I'll go back to San Francisco to-morrow and rip their case apart in the highest court in the land! That's what I'll do!" and he leaped to his feet at the words.
"Then," said Dick, quietly, "that is just what I am going to prove to you!"
The young millionaire started for the auto that was stalled in the sand. He intended to get from it the bundle of legal papers and prove to Mr. Cameron the statement just made about misrepresentation. But before he reached theLast Wordhe heard the sound of some one coming toward the fire. And out of the desert darkness a voice hailed, saying:
"Hello there, Mr. Cameron! We were looking all over for you."
"I'm here," said the young man, quickly. "Enjoying myself. Won't you come up and meet my new friends?" Then to Paul, who sat near him, he said in low tones:
"My guards—as I call them! Say nothing of this, and warn young Hamilton. I will see you to-morrow."
"Wait a minute, Dick!" called Paul, as he glided off in the gloom toward the car which Dick was approaching.
"We thought you were lost," went on one of the two men who had come up. "Lost in the desert, Mr. Cameron."
"Oh, no," he answered, lightly. "I was just strolling along, and I came to the concert."
"Concert!" exclaimed the other man. "Is that another of your jokes?" from which it would appear that Mr. Cameron was in the habit of indulging in persiflage.
"Not at all," was the answer. "Boys, will you start up the phonograph again for my friends?"
"Phonograph—out here in this desert!" exclaimed one of the two newcomers. "Say, that sounds like 'Frisco. Can you give us some ragtime?"
"We haven't a very choice selection of records," spoke Innis, Paul and Dick being engaged in a whispered conversation near the car. "I'll play what we've got," and he started toward the car. "I'll have to get another record from the the machine," he added.
"Machine!" exclaimed one of the men. "Have you an auto here, too?"
"A big car," said Mr. Cameron. "It could swallow our modest six-cylinder, from the looks of it."
"Oh, then you also came in an auto?" asked Dick of the engineer, who, with Paul, had come back to the fire.
"Yes, I believe I forgot to mention that," said Mr. Cameron. "We escaped into the desert in a gasoline chariot, unlike the Children of Israel, who walked."
"Mr. Cameron!" exclaimed one of the men, "I—ahem—I hope you'll excuse me mentioning it, but you know you promised not to do too much talking. It was the agreement——"
"There are agreements—and agreements," said the young engineer, with peculiar emphasis. "You need have no fear of me, Sam Martin. And, while I am about it, let me present to you my new friends. Boys, these are Sam Martin and Bill Wickford, my—er—my camp-mates," and he named the three chums in turn.
"Pleased to see you," said Sam, with a jerky bow. "Mr. Cameron is camping out here for—er—for his health. Bill and I are running things for him. It's no fun to be in the desert alone."
"That's right," chimed in Bill. "Have you got any ragtime?" he asked, as Innis came back with a record.
Then the phonograph was played again, sounding strangely in that lonely desert. Mr. Cameron seemed at his ease, but the two men were plainly nervous, and Dick was much excited, though he tried not to show it. He had heard what Paul said, and refrained from bringing out any of the papers.
"That's fine!" exclaimed Bill Wickford, as the tune came to an end. "I wish we had one of those at our camp."
"It might interfere with the seven-up tournament," observed Mr. Cameron, drily.
"Oh, we'd have time for that," said Sam."But I guess we'd better be getting back. It's late."
"Don't be in a hurry," urged Dick, hospitably.
"Well, we may be over to see you again. We didn't know we had any neighbors so close by."
"You might come over and see us," added Bill, somewhat awkwardly. "We can't offer you much in the way of entertainment, but we'll do our best."
"Thanks," answered Dick. "We may come, but we're going to pull out of this to-morrow, I hope. As soon as we can get out of this sand bog we'll travel."
"We struck one of those places," volunteered Sam, "and we had quite a time of it. Well, so-long," and he and his companion seemed to hover around Mr. Cameron as though they were afraid he would let out something of the secret that had already been told, had they only known it.
Good-nights were said, and the three disappeared in the darkness. The chums stood for a moment silent about their dying camp fire.
"Well, what do you know about that?" asked Paul.
"It's a queer go," assented Innis.
"Those men are just like guards," said Dick. "Uncle Ezra, or his agents, must be afraid Mr. Cameron will go back on his promise."
"If it was a promise given under misrepresentation then he is released from it—that holds in law," said Paul.
"I believe it does," agreed our hero. "I hope I get a chance to speak to him to-morrow. The idea of hiding him away out in this desert to prevent him from going to court. It's outrageous."
"Do you think he'll testify for Mr. Wardell if you show him the facts?" asked Paul.
"I sure do. Well, let's turn in. To-morrow will be another day. There's a lot of hard work ahead of us."
They were up early the next morning, the night having passed without incident, though Grit growled several times as though intruders—human or otherwise—were about the camp. But he gave no decided alarm, and the boys did not pay much attention.
Soon after breakfast they resumed work on getting the auto out of the clinging sand, by using the canvas strips. While they were engaged on this, Mr. Cameron and his two guards came up.
"We came to see if we could help you any," he said, with a wink. "At the same time I'd like to get a look at your car." He passed close to Dick, and found a chance to whisper: "Where are the papers?"
"In the old envelope, back of the mirror," replied Dick in the same low voice. Then, inlouder tones, he added: "We'd be glad of some help. It's hard work."
"Sam, and Bill, don't you want to get busy?" went on the young engineer.
"Sure!" said Sam. In fact, he and his companion seemed anxious to get the three boys away from the vicinity. The men helped spread and fasten down the canvas strips, and as Dick got in the car to drive it forward, he saw Mr. Cameron looking over the legal papers that proved how he had been deceived.
"By Jove, Hamilton!" he exclaimed, "you were right. They have put up a great game on me."
"Then will you turn them down?"
"I certainly will. I'm on your side from now on. I didn't understand it. These papers make it plain." He and Dick could talk without being regarded suspiciously, since the two men were working with Paul and Innis, spreading the strips of canvas.
Once or twice the two men looked at the car, as though wondering why Mr. Cameron was riding in it. He guessed their thoughts, and, putting back the papers, said to Dick:
"You may not need these, with my testimony. Still, keep them safe. Now I'd better leave you. Those fellows are paid to watch me as a cat does a mouse. How can I get away and reach 'Frisco?"
"We'll take you," said Dick, promptly."We've accommodations for four in this car. Can you manage to escape?"
"Yes, and it had better be to-night. There is a gully about a mile from here, near a dried water hole. You'll get to it if you keep straight on. Can you wait for me there?"
"Yes," said Dick, quickly.
"Then I won't say any more. Here comes Sam. I guess he's getting suspicious." Mr. Cameron left the car, which Dick had stopped to allow him to alight, the engineer added in louder tones: "You certainly have a fine machine there, Mr. Hamilton. I envy you. Now I'll give you a hand in getting under way again. Perhaps I may see you some day in 'Frisco."
The canvas strips proved just the thing needed, and after about an hour's work theLast Wordwas on firmer ground. Then, bidding their new acquaintances good-bye, during which farewells Dick winked at Mr. Cameron, to indicate that the arrangements made would be carried out, the big car was sent on over the desert. The two men seemed much relieved as it went off.
Dick easily found the gully Mr. Cameron had referred to. Driving several miles past it, to throw off suspicion in case they were followed, the young millionaire came to a halt.
"We'll wait here until night," he said, making his chums acquainted with the plan to be followed.
The boys thought night would never come, butit did finally, and carefully they ran their car back nearly to the dry gully. Then, stopping at a safe distance, Dick went back to hold the rendezvous with Mr. Cameron.
An hour passed, and Dick was beginning to think that perhaps the plan had failed, when he heard a cautious whistle. It was a strain from "My Old Kentucky Home." He answered in like manner, and then a voice called:
"Here I am. But we'd better be quick. They may follow me as they did last night."
"Come on," urged Dick. They went back toward the car on the run. It was the work of but a moment to start it, and with four passengers now, instead of three, theLast Wordshot over the desert in the darkness, no lights being set aglow, as they wanted to remain concealed for some time yet. They were on their way to 'Frisco, and with a better chance of saving Mr. Wardell's fortune than Dick had imagined could be had, following the revelation in that stray newspaper.