"Chicago! Change cars for St. Louis and the West!"
The long express had rolled into the great depot and the porters were busy brushing up the passengers in the parlor cars and gathering together their baggage—and incidentally, the tips which were forthcoming.
The Rover boys were soon out on the platform and making for the street.
"Cab, sir; coupe?"
"Mornin' papers! All de news! Have a paper, boss?"
The crowd of newsboys and hackmen made Dick smile. "It's a good deal like New York, isn't it?" he observed.
"Yes, indeed," replied Sam. "Where shall we go—to the WesternPalace?"
"We might as well. The sooner we find this Jack Wumble the better."
At that moment the burly man who had talked to Tom in the dining car brushed up to them.
"Good-morning, my young friend," he said to Tom. "Can I be of any assistance to you?"
"It I don't know as you can," replied Tom coldly. "I guess we can find our way around."
"Glad to help you if I can," went on the man.
"We want to get to the Western Palace," put in Sam, before his brothers could stop him.
"That is quite a distance from here." The man hesitated a moment. "I was going there myself. If you don't mind riding on a street car I'll show you the way."
"A street car is good enough for us," returned Sam. He was anxious to see more of the stranger, for he wished if possible to recollect where he had seen the fellow before.
A passing car was hailed and they all got on board, each carrying a valise, for the Rover boys had decided that trunks would be too cumbersome for the trip. They sat close together, and during the ride the stranger endeavored to make himself as agreeable as possible.
"My name is Henry Bradner," he said, introducing himself. "Out in the mines they used to call me Lucky Harry, and a good many of my friends call me that still. May I ask your names?"
"My name is Sam Rover," said the boy. "This is my brother Dick, and this my brother Tom."
There were handshakings all around. "Glad to know you," said Bradner. "I hope you find Jack Wumble and that he locates your mine for you."
"I've been thinking that I've seen you before," said Sam bluntly."But for the life of me I can't place you."
"Perhaps we've met somewhere in the East—New York, for instance.Have any of you been in Chicago before?"
"No."
"It's a great city and there are many sights worth seeing. If you wished I wouldn't mind showing you around a bit this afternoon or tomorrow."
"Thanks, but we won't have time," said Dick shortly. This off-handed invitation made him more suspicious than ever.
The talking continued until at last Henry Bradner stopped the car.
"Here we are," he said. "The Palace of the West is one block down yonder side street."
"The Palace of the West?" repeated Tom. "I thought it was called the Western Palace."
"Well, it's all the same," laughed the man. But it was not the same by any means. While the Western Palace was a first-class hotel in every respect, the Palace of the West was a weak imitation, run by a man who had once been a notorious San Francisco blackleg.
The hotel was soon reached and Bradner led the way into the office, which was filled with rather rough-looking sports, all smoking and talking loudly.
"I know the clerk," said Bradner. "I'll ask him about your friend." And before Dick could stop him he had pushed his way to the desk and was talking in a low tone to the clerk. Dick tried to catch what was said, but was unable to do so.
"You are in luck," said Bradner, on coming back. "The clerk says Jack Wumble has gone off for the day, but said he would be back by to-night sure."
"I'm glad of that," said Tom, and he and his brothers felt much relieved.
"The clerk cautioned me to keep quiet about Wumble," went on Bradner confidentially. "It seems Wumble and another man had a row over a game of cards, and Wumble wants the other man to clear out before he shows up again. The other man is booked for Denver on the afternoon train."
As this statement about cards fitted in with what Mr. Rover had said concerning Jack Wumble, the boys swallowed it without hesitation, and they were inclined to believe that Henry Bradner was all right, after all.
"Will you register here?" went on the man.
"No, I don't like the looks of the place," answered Dick promptly."We are not of the drinking kind," he added.
The burly man looked dark and disappointed.
"It's a good hotel, when once you get used to it," he said.
But Dick shook his head and said he would go elsewhere, and motioning to Tom and Sam he led the way to the sidewalk once more. Henry Bradner followed them.
"If I see Wumble shall I get him to wait for you?" he said.
"If you wish. We will be around to-night and also to-morrow morning to see him."
"All right."
The boys walked off and around the corner into the street where the cars were running.
"I don't like him at all," exclaimed Dick. "I believe he is tip to some game."
"Oh, you may be too suspicious," declared Sam. "What game can he be up to? He was kind enough to help us hunt up this Jack Wumble."
"I don't care—his manner doesn't suit me at all. He's a sneak, if ever there was one."
The boys walked on for a distance of several blocks, and then coming to a nice-looking restaurant went in for dinner.
While they were eating Dick happened to glance out of the show window of the place and gave a low cry.
"What is it, Dick?" asked Tom.
"I thought as much. That man is watching us."
Sam and Tom gave a look, but by this time Henry Bradner had disappeared from view.
"You are sure that you saw him, Dick?" asked Sam.
"I am positive. Boys, do you know what I think? I think he is a sharper, and imagines he has three green country boys with money to deal with."
"Well, if he thinks that he is much mistaken," was Tom's comment. "In the first place we are not so very green, and in the second our cash account is rather limited."
"We spoke about a mine, and he may imagine that we carry several thousands of dollars with us."
"If he's a sharper why did he try to find Wumble for us?" askedSam.
This was a poser and Dick did not pretend to answer it.
The dinner finished, they walked forth once more and down into the heart of the city.
They soon found what looked to be a fairly good hotel, and engaged a large room with two beds for the night.
"Now we can take a look around," said Tom.
The best part of the afternoon was spent in sight-seeing, and the boys visited Lincoln Park, Jackson Park, the museum, menagerie, Masonic Temple, and numerous other points of interest.
They were returning to the hotel at which they had registered for the night when suddenly Tom caught his brothers by the arm.
"Well, I never!" he gasped. "What do you think of that?"
They saw he was gazing across the way, and looking in the direction saw an elegant hotel, over the broad doorway of which was stretched the sign:
WESTERN PALACEGEORGE LAVELLE, Proprietor.Established 1871.
"By jinks! That Bradner deceived us!" gasped Dick. "This must be the hotel father mentioned."
"But what about Jack Wumble?" began Sam. "He was registered at the other place."
"Did you see the register?" demanded Dick.
"No, but—"
"We'll soon learn the truth," went on the elder Rover. "Come on." And he made his way through the mass of moving wagons and trucks to the opposite side of the thoroughfare.
All entered the broad hallway together. The floor was of marble, and big mirrors lined every wall. Certainly the place was in sharp contrast to that known as the "Palace of the West."
Walking up to the office counter Dick inspected the register. On the third page from the last written upon he found the entry:
"Jack Wumble, Denver; Room 144."
"There, what do you think of that?" he demanded, as he showed his brothers the entry.
Both were dumfounded, and for the moment knew not what to say.Dick turned to one of the clerks.
"Is Mr. Jack Wumble in?" he asked.
The clerk looked at the row of keys behind him.
"No, sir; he's out."
"Have you any idea when he will be back?"
"I have not. Perhaps he is back already and over in the smoking room."
"I don't know him personally, but I am very anxious to see him."
"I'll have a boy look for him," returned the clerk, and called up a bell-boy, who took Dick's card and went off with it to the smoking room and the dining hall, calling softly as he passed one man and another, "Number 144! Number 144!"
Presently the bell-boy came back, followed by a tall, thin, and pleasant-faced man of sixty, wearing a light-checked suit and a broad-brimmed slouch hat.
"This is the gentleman, sir," he said to Dick.
"Are you Mr. Jack Wumble?" asked Dick curiously.
"That's my handle, lad," was the answer, in a broad, musical voice."And I see your card reads Richard Rover. Any relation to AndyRover, as used to be a mining expert?"
"I am his son."
"Well, well! His son, eh? Glad to know you, downright glad!" And Jack Wumble nearly wrung Dick's hand off. Then Tom and Dick were introduced, and more handshaking followed, and the boys felt that they had found a true friend beyond a doubt.
"I'm more than glad to have met you as we did," said Dick, a little later, after Jack Wumble had asked the boys about their father. "I think it has saved us from getting into a lot of trouble."
And he related the particulars of the meeting with Henry Bradner, and what the stranger had said and done concerning Wumble.
"The snake!" ejaculated the old miner passionately. "He's a sharp, true as you are born! Why, I never put up at the Palace of the West in my life."
"I wish I knew what his game was," went on Dick.
"You will know Dick—if I can get my hands on him. Do you reckon as how he is over to that other hotel now?"
"More than likely."
"Unless he shadowed us to here," burst out Tom. "If he did that he must know his game is up, and you can be sure he will keep out of sight."
The matter was talked over, and it was decided that Jack Wumble and the boys should go to the other hotel without delay.
On the way Dick told the old miner what had brought them to the West. Jack Wumble took a deep interest in all mining schemes, and listened closely to all the youth had to say.
"Yes, I remember about the Eclipse Mine," he said. "And I remember this Arnold Baxter, too. He was a bad one, and if I and some others had our say he would have dangled from a tree for his stealings, for, you see, we didn't have no jails in those days, and stealing was a capital crime."
"It will you help us to locate the mine before Arnold Baxter or his confederates can get on the ground? We will pay you for your trouble."
"Certainly, I'll do what I can. But I—don't want any of Anderson Rover's pile—not me. Why, your father nursed me through the worst case o' fever a miner ever had—an' I ain't forgittin' it, lads. I'll stick to ye to the end." And the old miner put out his hand and gave another squeeze that made Dick wince.
The Palace of the West reached, Wumble pushed his way into the smoke-laden office and to the desk.
"Say, is there a man named Jack Wumble stopping here?" he demanded.
"Jack Wumble," repeated the clerk slowly.
"That's what I said."
"There is a Jack Wimple stopping here—but he is out—gone to St.Louis."
"Jack Wimple? He's not the man," and the old miner fell back and repeated what had been said to the three boys.
"Perhaps Bradner made a mistake," suggested Tom. "But I don't believe it."
"He tried to make us believe this hotel and the Western Palace were one and the same," put in Sam.
"He's sharp, I tell you," declared Jack Wumble. "Just wait till I get on his trail, I'll make him tell us the truth. More than likely he wanted to clean you boys out."
They waited around for the best part of an hour, but Henry Bradner failed to return, and at last they gave up looking for him, and the boys went back to where they had hired a room for the night, promising to rejoin Jack Wumble early in the morning, when the whole party would take a train for Denver, where Wumble wished to transact a little business before starting out for Larkspur Creek.
The boys had not slept very well on the train, so they were thoroughly tired out. They were on the point of retiring when a bell-boy came up stating that their friend wished to see Dick for a few minutes.
"Wumble must have forgotten something," said Dick. "I'll see what it is," and he took the elevator to the ground floor.
To his surprise it was not Wumble who wished to see him, but HenryBradner.
"What, you!" cried the youth. "I thought you had skipped out."
"Skipped out?" queried the burly man in pretended surprise. "Why should I skip out?"
"Don't you know that we have found you out?"
"Found me out? You are talking in riddles, young man." And the stranger drew himself up proudly.
"We have found Mr. Jack Wumble, and he tells us that he never stopped at the Palace of the West in his life."
"Mr. Jack Wimple, you mean. Why, he is certainly at the hotel—or was."
"We were looking for Mr. Wumble—and you know it. I care nothing for your Mr. Wimple. And besides, you told us that the Western Palace and the Palace of the West were one and the same. That was a deliberate falsehood."
Bradner turned pale, and looked as if he wished to catch Dick by the throat. "Have a care, young man!" he hissed. "I am not a man to be trifled with. I tried to do you a good turn, but I see I have put my foot into it. Henceforth you can take care of yourself."
So speaking, Henry Bradner turned on his heel and strode off, a look of baffled rage in his eyes. Instantly Dick turned to a bell-boy.
"Run up to room 233 and tell Tom Rover to come down at once and follow his brother," he said hurriedly. "I can't go up—I want to watch that man, for he's a crook."
The boy seemed to understand, and flew for the stairs, the elevator being out of sight. Dick ran to the door, to behold Bradner standing on the sidewalk as if undecided which way to pursue his course. But presently he walked slowly up the street. Dick followed him, and had gone less than half a block when Tom joined him, all out of breath with running.
"What is it, Dick?"
"It was Bradner, who came to smooth matters over. I am following him to see if I can't get on to his game."
"Oh, what nerve! I should think he would have been afraid to come near us."
"He's a bold one, Tom, and we must look out that we don't get bit by him."
Henry Bradner covered half a dozen blocks of the street upon which the hotel was located, and then turned into a narrow thoroughfare running toward the Chicago river.
Here were a number of low drinking places, and in front of one of these he stopped. Instead of entering the resort by the main door he went in through a side hallway, which led to a rear room.
"Perhaps he is stopping here," suggested Tom, as the two lads came to a halt.
"Well, if that is so we had better remember the place," answeredDick.
There was an alleyway alongside of the house, and looking into this the boys saw a light shining out of several windows near the rear of the resort.
"Let us take a peep into the windows," suggested Dick, and led the way.
To let out some of the tobacco smoke the windows were pulled down partly from the top. The bottom sashes were covered with half-curtains of imitation lace, but so flimsy that the boys saw through them without difficulty.
Bradner had just entered this rear room, and was gazing around inquiringly. Now he stalked over to a table near one of the windows, and dropped heavily into a chair.
"I'm afraid the jig is up," he said, addressing somebody on the opposite side of the table.
"What has happened," asked the other person, and now the two Rover boys were amazed to learn that the party was Dan Baxter. The bully had changed his dress and also the style of wearing his hair, and was sporting a pair of nose glasses.
"They have met the real Jack Wumble, and found out that I was fooling them about the hotel."
"That's too bad," cried Dan Baxter. "You must have made a bad break of it, Bradner."
"I did my best, but I couldn't keep them from looking around, although I offered to conduct them. You can bet if I had had them under my care they wouldn't have got near the Western Palace, nor Jack Wumble either."
"Did you have a man ready to play the part of Wumble?" questionedDan Baxter, after the burly one had ordered drinks for the two.
"Yes, I had Bill Noxton all cocked and primed. But now our cake is dough—and after all the trouble I've taken for your father, too!" And Henry Bradner uttered a snort of disgust.
"Did you warn this Noxton?"
"Oh, yes, and I put a flea into the ear of the hotel clerk, too. But the thing is, what do you suppose your father will want done next?"
"Don't ask me," answered Dan Baxter recklessly. "He don't half trust me any more. He says I'm only good to sponge on him," and the former bully of Putnam Hall gave a bitter laugh.
"Well, I haven't followed these Rovers all the way from Valley Brook farm to here for nothing," went on Henry Bradner. "Your father wanted 'em watched, and I've watched 'em ever since they came home from that boarding academy. It was a big job, too."
"Didn't they suspect you?"
"One of 'em said he thought he had seen me before." And Bradner laughed. "It was at the Valley Brook Church. I followed them to the church just to keep my word to your father."
"And you are certain Mr. Rover isn't coming West?"
"No, he's laid up with a game leg, and won't move for a month. I got that straight from the hired man." There was a pause. "What do you reckon I had best do next?"
"Telegraph to my father at Denver—you know his assumed name, and let him advise you. I suppose the boys and that Wumble will go straight through to the mining district now."
"More than likely."
"Then father and Roebuck will have to stop them out there, although how it's to be done I don't know."
At this juncture a waiter came forward, and closed down the window, and the balance of the conversation was lost to the two Rover boys.
"What do you think of that?" whispered Dick, as he led the way back to the sidewalk.
"It's all as plain as day," replied his brother. "This Bradner was set to watch the house immediately after the robbery occurred. More than likely he was around at the time of the robbery."
"Do you suppose he is the man who helped Arnold Baxter to escape from prison on that forged pardon?"
"Creation! It may be so!" ejaculated Tom. "I'll tell you one thing: we ought to have them both arrested at once."
"I don't know about that," mused the elder Rover. "If we do that then how are we to find out where Arnold Baxter is, or this fellow they called Roebuck?"
"But they may slip through our fingers if we don't have them locked up."
The two brothers talked the matter ever, and then decided, late as it was, to call upon Jack Wumble for advice.
"You can go for him," said Dick. "I'll continue to watch this place. If they leave I'll throw bits of paper on the sidewalk and you can follow the trail just as if we were playing a game of hare and hounds."
Tom made off at top speed, carefully noting the street and number, so that he would not miss his way when returning.
Left to himself Dick went into the alleyway again and looked through the window as before.
Dan Baxter and Bradner were still conversing, but the youth could not hear what was said.
Presently the pair at the table arose, settled for their drinks and came out of the place.
They walked up the street and around a corner, and Dick followed, scattering bits of an old letter as he went along. When the letter was used up, he tore to bits some handbills which he found in the street.
Eight squares were covered before Dan Baxter and Bradner reached a dingy looking hotel which went by the name of Lakeman's Rest.
It was set in the middle of the block, with brick houses on either side of it.
They entered a narrow hallway, and by the light above the door Dick saw them ascend the stairs to the second floor.
There now seemed nothing to do but to await Tom's return, and the youth retired to the opposite side of the street.
It was late—after midnight, in fact—and the street was practically deserted.
A half hour went by and Dick felt as if his brother would never return, when he heard swift footsteps behind him.
"So this is your game, eh?" cried the voice of Bradner, and of a sudden a club descended upon Dick's head and he went down as if shot.
The man had looked out of the hotel window and spotted Dick, and had gone out by a back way add around the square to make certain of his victim.
"That was a good crack," came from Dan Baxter. "It serves him right for following you."
Bradner was about to bend over his victim to ascertain how badly Dick was hurt when the footsteps of two men approaching made him draw back.
"Come, we don't want to be caught," whispered Dan Baxter nervously.And then, as the footsteps came closer, he darted away, with HenryBradner at his heels. They did not stop until a long distance awayfrom the scene of the dastardly attack.
The men who were approaching were a couple of bakers who were employed in a neighboring bakery.
"Vas ist dis!" cried one of them, as he stumbled over Dick's body."A young mans!"
"He is drunk, Carl," said the other. "Let him be or you may get into trouble."
"Maype he vos hurt, or sick," said the German baker, bending down."I vos know der cop on dis beat and he knows I vos no footpad."
Just then Dick gave a shiver and a groan, and both bakers realized that he was suffering in some way. While the German remained by the boy's side the other ran to the bakery for a lantern and assistance.
Soon a small crowd had collected, and Dick was carried into the bakery and made as comfortable as the means permitted. One of the bakers went on a hunt for a policeman, and presently the officer of the law hove into sight. Dick was just coming to his senses, but was too dazed for several minutes to give an account of what had happened. At last he said a man had struck him down with a club.
"Were you robbed?" asked the policeman.
Dick felt in his various pockets.
"No, sir."
"You were lucky."
"I dink ve scare der rascal avay," said the German baker.
"More than likely. It's a pity you didn't collar him." The policeman turned to Dick.
"Shall I call up an ambulance?"
"I don't think it's necessary, sir. My brother will be along this way soon. I was waiting for him to come when I was struck."
"You were out rather late," remarked the officer of the law, suspiciously.
"I was watching a rascal who tried to make trouble for me."
"Then there must be more to this case than what you just told me."
"There is."
"In that case you had better go to police headquarters with me."
"I am willing. But won't you wait until my brother gets here?"
There was no need to wait, for at that moment Tom appeared on the scene, accompanied by Jack Wumble. They both stared at Dick in horror.
"Oh, Dick, you are hurt?" cried Tom.
"Not very much. Bradner hit me on the head. I am glad I am alive."
"And where is the rascal now?" questioned the old miner.
"Ran away."
"And Dan Baxter?" queried Tom.
"Gone, too, I suppose. They must have been together." And then Dick related what had occurred—so far as he knew—since Tom had left him.
The officer of the law accompanied all three to the police station, and here the boys told their story, and a watch was set for Bradner and Dan Baxter. But nothing came of this, for the pair left Chicago early the next day.
"We had better keep close together after this," said Jack Wumble, as he was seeing the boys back to their hotel. "I reckon you've got a mighty bad crowd to deal with." And he remained with them for the balance of the night.
The express for Denver left at eleven o'clock in the morning, and all of the party of four were on hand to catch it. Soon they were whirling over the fields and through the forests toward the mighty Mississippi River.
"Never been West afore-eh?" remarked Jack Wumble. "Well, you will see some grand sights, I can tell ye that."
"No, we have never been West," answered Sam. "But we have been toAfrica," he added proudly.
"Gee shoo! is that so! Well, that's long traveling certainly. ButI reckon I'd rather see my own country first."
"We went to Africa for a purpose," said Tom, and told of the rescue of his father. The old miner listened with keen appreciation and at the conclusion clapped Tom on the back.
"You're true blue, Tom!" he cried. "You and your brothers will pull through, I feel sure of it." And then he fell to telling about his own life, and how he had become acquainted with Anderson Rover and his partner Kennedy, and of the various bad things Arnold Baxter had done in those days. "This man seems to be a chip of the old block," he concluded.
The trip to Denver was full of interest, and Dick was sorry he did not have a camera along, that he might take snapshots of the scenery. Yet he was impatient to get to his destination and stake out the missing Eclipse Mine before Arnold Baxter and his confederates should have the chance to do so.
It was the afternoon of the next day when Denver was reached, and a light rain was falling. Jack Wumble wished to put up at a hotel called the Miner's Rest, a favorite resort with men from the mining districts. He had been negotiating for the sale of one of his mines, and thought he could close the deal the next morning.
"And then we'll be off for Larkspur Creek without further delay," was what he told Dick.
While Jack Wumble was off attending to his private business the three Rover boys took a stroll through Denver.
The city was different from any they had visited, and their walk was full of interest.
Coming to a store in the window of which were exhibited a number ofIndian curiosities, the boys halted to examine the objects, whenTom uttered a sudden cry.
"Look, Dick! There is Bradner inside!"
"Yes, and Dan Baxter is with him!" returned the elder brother quickly. "Here's luck, surely!"
"Will you have them locked up?" asked Sam.
"To be sure—if we can."
The boys looked around for a policeman, but none happened to be in sight.
"Run and see if you can find one," said Dick to Sam. "Tom and I can watch the pair."
At once Sam made off. But policemen were not numerous, and it took quite some time to locate one and explain what was wanted.
In the meantime Dan Baxter had caught sight of Tom and toldBradner of his discovery.
Boy and man came out of the store in a great hurry. They were about to run off when Dick caught Bradner by the arm, while his brother halted the former bully of Putnam Hall.
"Let go of me!" hissed Bradner, and as Dick paid no attention he aimed a blow for the youth's head. But Dick "had been there before," and dodged, and the force of his effort nearly took the rascal off his feet. Before he could recover Dick had him down on his back and was sitting on his chest.
Tom was having a lively time with Dan Baxter. The bully hit the boy in the shoulder, and Tom retaliated with a sharp crack that landed straight on Baxter's nose and drew blood.
"A fight! a fight!" yelled a passing newsboy, and as if by magic a crowd began to collect.
Again Baxter struck out, but his blow fell short, and now Tom gave him one in the ear that spun him half around. By this time the bully felt that he had had enough of the encounter, and breaking through the crowd he set off on a mad run down the street and around the nearest comer.
Feeling it would be useless to try to catch Dan Baxter just then,Tom turned his attention to Dick and Henry Bradner. Bradner wasstruggling hard to get up, but Dick was master of the situation, soTom had little to do.
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded the policeman, as soon as he came upon the scene.
"I want this man arrested," answered Dick, as he got up, but still kept close to Bradner.
"What has he done?"
"He is a sharper of the worst kind."
"You are sure of this?"
"I am—"
"You will have to go to the station house with us if I take the man in," continued the policeman.
"I am willing," answered Dick quietly.
Muttering angrily to himself, Henry Bradner arose. He wanted to run away, but got no chance to do so. Soon the station house was reached, and here Dick and his brothers told their story.
"The assault happened in another State," said the officer at the desk. "The most we can do is to hold him until the Illinois authorities send for him."
"Why, that's Harry the Crook, from Gunnison!" put in an officer who had just come in. "He is wanted here on half a dozen charges."
At these words Bradner turned deadly pale.
"This is a—a mistake," he faltered. "I know nothing of the man you mention."
"Too thin, Harry; I know you well," replied the officer. "Captain, he is a bad one," he continued to his superior.
An investigation into the records was made, and a picture in the Rogues' Gallery proved that Bradner and Harry the Crook were one and the same beyond a doubt.
"In that case we'll hold him right here," said the police captain.
The matter was talked over with Dick, and the youth decided to let his own charge against the crook drop, as he did not wish to waste time in Denver on the case. An hour later the three Rovers departed, leaving Henry Bradner to a fate he richly deserved.
"That is one of our enemies disposed of," observed Dick, as they walked back to the hotel. "I wish we could do up the Baxters just as easily."
The following day found them on the way to Gunnison. Nothing more had been seen or heard of Dan Baxter, nor had anything turned up concerning Arnold Baxter and Roebuck, the man who was with him and who hid helped him to escape from prison.
The country was now mountainous in the extreme, with here and there a wild, weird canyon thousands of feet deep. Some of the awful pitfalls made Sam fairly hold his breath.
"Gosh!" he murmured. "This beats Africa, doesn't it? Who ever saw such lofty peaks before—and such rivers cut out of the solid rock!"
The boys found Gunnison a small mining city containing perhaps six thousand souls. A few of the buildings were quite up to date, but the majority were little better than shanties. But Gunnison was a center for the trade of many miles around, and business was brisk.
At Gunnison the entire party procured horses from a dealer Jack Wumble knew, beasts that were strong and used to mountain traveling.
"We might go on for twenty miles or so by rail, but this is the best place for fitting out," said the old miner. "We can strike a putty fair trail from here, leading directly, to Larkspur Creek."
"And how far is that mining district from here?" asked Tom.
"As the birds fly about sixty-five miles. But the trail makes it a good hundred miles, and some putty stiff climbin' at that. I'm glad ye are used to roughin' it, for this traveling don't go well with a tenderfoot."
The day was clear and the air bracing, and the boys started off with their friend in the best of spirits. Soon the city was left behind, and then began a journey along the foothills which seemed to have no end.
"If Arnold Baxter is watching us he is taking precious good care to keep out of sight," said Tom, as they rode along in single file, with Jack Wumble in the lead.
"No doubt Dan has joined his father and told him of Bradner's fate," returned Dick. "But we have got to keep our eyes wide open. We all know what a wretch Arnold Baxter is, and out in this wild country almost anything is liable to happen."
On and on they went, first over a stubble of thin grass and then through a forest of tall pine trees. Rocks were everywhere, and the trail wound in and out, with an occasional watercourse to be forded.
"These watercourses are all right now," observed Jack Wumble. "But in the early spring, when the snow on the mountains begins to melt, they become raging torrents, and getting across 'em is out of the question."
"How far are yonder peaks from here?" asked Sam, pointing ahead.
"About twenty miles."
"Gracious, as far as that! I didn't know one could see so clearly for such a long distance. They look to me to be only about three miles."
"The air is very pure and clear out here, lad. No better air in this wide world than that of Colorady."
At noon they came to a halt in a little hollow, protected alike from the breeze and the direct rays of the overhead sun. Their saddle bags were filled with provisions, and Tom and Sam began to prepare their first meal in the open, with Dick and the old miner assisting.
After the meal Jack Wumble took a smoke and a ten minutes' nap, and during that time the three boys strolled off in various directions, Sam going ahead on the trail.
Presently the youngest Rover had his eye arrested by a post set up in the middle of the trail. To the top of the post was tacked a sheet of white paper.
"This is queer," thought Sam, and drew closer to inspect the sheet.On it were written the words, in pencil:
"To the Rovers and their friend:
"If you want to keep out of trouble you will return to Gunnison at once. If you dare to push on to Larkspur Creek it may cost you your lives. We are watching you, and are fully armed, and you had better be warned in time.
"Dick! Tom! Jack! Come here and see what I have found!"
Sam's cry was a loud one, and soon the others came up on a run, Jack Wumble pistol in hand, for his life in the open had taught him to be forever prepared for danger.
"Wot is it, lad?" asked the old miner anxiously.
"It's a quit notice for us," answered Sam soberly. "I can tell you, the Baxters mean to carry matters with a high hand."
All of the others read the notice in silence. Then Dick thrust his hands into his pockets coolly.
"I'll see them hanged before I'll go back," he said.
"I am with you," added Tom. "But we must be cautious after this, or the Baxters will be firing at us from an ambush."
"If only we could catch sight of them," put in Sam. "They ought to be shot on sight!"
The boys looked at Jack Wumble, who had remained silent.
"Do you advise us to go back?" asked Dick hastily.
"I can't say as I do, lads," was the slow response. "Yet it might be better to do that nor to be shot down and have yer body thrown into a canyon," added Wumble, speaking in his old time vernacular. "Perhaps your father would rather have ye back."
"I don't believe it," burst out Tom. "Father never wanted cowards for sons."
Dick caught the paper, tore it down and ripped it in two, throwing it to the wind.
"I say I'm going ahead."
"So am I," came from both of his brothers. "But you need not goJack." went on Dick. "We don't wish you to run into danger, and—"
"Hold up, Dick, I said I would see ye through, and I will," cried the old miner. "But I want ye to realize what ye are doing, that's all. If you are shot down it will be yer own fault, so to speak."
"But we don't intend to be shot down," interrupted Tom. "We have run up against the Baxters before, so we know how to be careful."
"It aint like as if they were in a city in the East," went on the old miner. "Here some men are mighty free with their shootin'-irons. And they could take a shot at ye from a long distance, with a good rifle."
Thus talking the entire party walked back to their camp and sat down to discuss the situation in detail.
"Perhaps we had better not advance until dark," said Dick. "If we advance now we will simply be making targets of ourselves," and he shivered in spite of himself.
"We won't advance at all," put in Jack Wumble briefly. "We would be wuss nor fools if we did—with them human wildcats a—watchin' of us," and he began to puff vigorously at his short stump of a briarroot pipe.
"But you said—" began Tom, when the old miner waved him to silence.
"Let me think it out, lads, and then I'll tell ye my plan. We'll trick 'em—that's best," and he began to smoke again.
Satisfied that Jack Wumble knew the ground to be covered better than they did, the boys decided to let him have his own way, so long as the object of the expedition should be advanced. They sat down in the shade to rest, and thus several hours passed, and the old miner smoked up half 'a dozen pipefuls of his favorite plug mixture.
"I've got it," he cried at last. "If we kin work the deal we'll keep 'em guessing." And he laughed softly to himself.
His plan was a simple one. Several miles back on the trail there was a fork, the second trail running to the northward. His plan was to ride back to the fork, and then in the darkness of the night to take to the second trail.
"That don't lead to Larkspur Creek," he said. "But it leads to Go Lightly Gulch, and from there I know an old Indian trail which leads to the Larkspur by way of Bender Mountain. It's dangerous trail to ride, but it's safe, too, so far as our enemies are concerned, for they can't cover it from any other part of the mountains. They would either have to be right in front of us or right behind, and in that case we'd have as much of a show at them as they would have at us."
"That's a good plan," exclaimed Dick. "Let us adopt it, by all means."
Slowly the afternoon wore away, until the sun was lost to view behind the great Rocky Mountains in the west. As soon as the shadows became long and deep Jack Wumble arose.
"Now I reckon we can begin to ride on the back trail," he said, with a shrewd smile on his rugged face.
It was an easy matter to saddle the horse again.
The rest had made the animals as fresh as ever and this was a good thing, as the old miner calculated to ride a long distance between sunset and sunrise.
"I suppose our enemies are watching every move we make," said Tom."But I must say I can't catch a single glance of them."
"I thought I saw a speck or two of something over the hill to the south," said Dick.
Jack Wumble nodded. "You are right, Dick, I saw the specks too, and they were men looking in this direction. But they might not have been our enemies."
"If only we had a good field glass," sighed Sam. "I was going to bring one along, but I forgot all about it."
They rode on slowly, the old miner not wishing to reach the fork in the trail until it was quite dark. Fortunately it was clouding up, so that not even the stars would be left to betray them.
"We are coming to the fork," said Wumble, about eight o'clock. "Keep your eyes peeled, lads, and if you see anything out of the ordinary, let me know at once."
There was a tiny stream to cross, and then the way led around a series of sharp rocks.
"Keep to the grass as much as possible," cautioned the old miner in a voice that was a mere whisper. "And now follow me as fast as you can!"
Away he bounded in the lead, and the three Rover boys followed around the rocks through a stretch of pines and over some fallen firs, and then up and up a rugged trail where the footing was so insecure that the horses slipped continually. The branches of the drooping trees bothered them greatly, and had it not been for Wumble's continual warnings one or another of them would have been seriously hurt. The horses panted for breath, but still the old miner kept the pace until the top of the first range of foothills was gained. Here he called a halt under an overhanging rock beneath which it was as black as a dungeon.
"So far so good," he muttered, as he leaped to the ground and began to pat his heaving and perspiring animal. "I don't believe they know much about where we went to, even if they followed us back to the fork."
"I don't believe they are following us," said Dick, as he placed his ear to the ground and listened. All was as silent as the grave.
They remained under the rock the best part of an hour, allowing their trusty animals to get back their wind and strength. During this time Wumble walked back a short distance and Tom climbed up to the top of the rock, but neither made any discovery of importance.
It was a little after midnight when they moved forward again. Their pace was now little better than a walk, for the trail was a dangerous one, and in many spots they had to leap down and lead their horses. Once they came to a gully six to eight feet wide, without a bridge, and it took a good deal of urging to get Tom's horse to make the leap across.
"If a fellow should tumble in there where would he go to?" askedSam, with a shudder.
"He'd go out of sight forever," replied Wumble solemnly. "Some of those cuts are a thousand feet deep."
"What a mighty upheaval of nature there must have been here at one time," said Dick.
By three o'clock in the morning Tom was completely fagged out and could scarcely keep his eyes open. Gradually he dragged behind the others, his eyes closing every few minutes in spite of his efforts to keep them open.
"I wish I had a cup of strong coffee to keep me awake," he murmured. "How much further are you going, Jack?"
"A couple of miles or so," answered the old miner. "Want a smoke?You can have my pipe."
"Thank you, but I don't smoke, and I guess it would only make me feel worse," answered Tom.
He began to drop further and further behind. The other boys spoke to him, but they were in reality nearly as much worn out as their brother, and had all they could do to keep Wumble in sight.
At last Tom's head fell forward on his breast, and on the instant he went fast asleep. His horse continued to move forward, but coming to a fork in the trail, took the downward path, that being the easier to travel. On and on went the beast, until striking a smooth road he set off on a gallop.
The violent motion aroused Tom, and he stared about him in bewilderment. "Dick! Sam!" he called out. "Where are you?"
No answer came back, and he sat bolt upright in alarm. Nobody was in sight, nor could he hear a sound saving the hoof beats of his own horse. He drew rein instantly.
"Dick!" he called loudly. "Jack Wumble! Where are you?"
Not a sound came in reply—not even the cry of a bird—all was absolutely silent. Tom gave something of a gasp. He realized his position only too well.
He was lost in the mountains.
"Oh, what a fool I was to fall asleep!"
Thus spoke poor Tom to himself, as he continued to gaze around him and call out. To one side was the high mountain, to the other a deep valley filled with giant trees, and on both sides an utter loneliness which seemed to penetrate his very soul.
Like a flash there came over him the various stories he had heard of men being lost in these mountains and wandering around for days and weeks until their very reason forsook them. Was he, too, doomed to such a horrible fate?
Fervidly he prayed to Heaven that such an ending might not overtake him. Then with care he turned his horse about, thinking to gain the point where he had become separated from the rest, and feeling that they must, sooner or later, turn back to look for him.
Once he imagined that he heard somebody calling him. But the sound was so far away he was not sure, and the echo was such that he could not determine from what direction the call emanated. Yet he yelled in return, nearly splitting his throat in his endeavor to make himself heard. For the time being the enemy was completely forgotten.
Tom's turning back, as he thought he was doing, only made matters worse, for the horse branched off on another trail—but so slender that it soon gave out altogether and left him on the trackless mountain side, and several miles from the fork where his steed had made the first mistake.
Yet he pressed on, calling again and again, but receiving no answer. Twice he imagined he heard pistol shots, and this gave him the idea of firing his own weapon, and he emptied the cylinder, but with no good to himself. Then he reloaded and came to a dead stop. He had never been more lonely in his life.
The balance of the night dragged so slowly that Tom thought it would never come morning again. With the first streak of light in the East he arose from the rock upon which he had thrown himself, and running to a higher point gazed eagerly around him.
He felt as Robinson Crusoe must have done on his deserted island. On all sides were rocks and hills, mountains and valleys, some bare and others covered with growths of pines and firs. Here and there glistened a rushing stream or a lofty waterfall, and on one of the hills he saw a herd of mule deer and on another a solitary Rocky Mountain goat. But nowhere was there the first sign of a human being.
Tom stood there for fully ten minutes, his breast heaving and his heart sinking within him like a lump of lead. He was alone, absolutely alone, in that wild and almost trackless region.
What was to be done?
Over and over he asked himself the question, and the answer always remained a blank. He knew not which way to turn, for going on might bring him into worse difficulty.
And yet he could not think of remaining still where he was, for the very thought was maddening. He must try to do something, be the consequence what it might.
Then he realized that his mouth was dry and that he was hungry. This made him remember that all of the provisions were loaded on the horses ridden by Jack Wumble and Dick. His own steed bore only some mining tools.
"I wish I could swap the tools for something to eat," he mused. "But there is no use in crying over spilt milk. I'm in a pickle, and I must do my best to get myself out of it."
At a short distance he saw a small hollow which had become partly filled by the rain of several days before. He walked to the hollow and drank his fill and then led his horse thither.
"We're lost, old man," he said, patting the beast on the neck. "We must find the others. You'll help, won't you?" And the horse pricked up his ears and looked around wisely as if he understood every word. At that moment Tom felt that a horse is indeed man's best friend.
He soon set off, but slowly, trying to locate the trail which had brought him astray, and trying at the same time, by the rising sun, to determine the direction in which his brothers and Jack Wumble had passed. But, as before, his efforts were misleading, and by the middle of the forenoon he found himself on a barren hilltop with no chance of leaving it excepting by the way he had come.
It was truly disheartening, and hot, tired, and discouraged he leaped again to the ground. He was now very hungry, without a morsel to satisfy the cravings of his stomach. His steed, too, wanted for something to eat, and gnawed eagerly at the spare vegetation as soon as permitted.
Tom was wondering what should be his next move when he was startled by the appearance of a mule deer on the hillside just below him. As he gazed at the animal he soon saw another, and then another, until the hillside seemed to be covered with them.
"I suppose men never come here to disturb them," he thought bitterly. "I wonder if I could bring one down with my pistol? I've got matches, and cooked deer's meat would be first class."
He crept as close as he could to the deer. Fortunately the breeze was blowing up the hill toward him, so the animals could not scent him readily. When he had gotten as near as he thought possible, he took careful aim and blazed away twice in quick succession.
His first shot was a failure, but his second landed in the deer's front leg, breaking that member at the knee and pitching the deer headlong. At once the rest of the herd took alarm, and went off like the wind, down the hillside into the valley and up another hill a good mile away. At the same time the wounded beast tried to rise, but before it could do so Tom ran closer and put three more balls into it, and then it rolled over, gave a jerk or two, and remained quiet forever.
The sight of such a feast made Tom's heart much lighter, and he brought out his pocket-knife and cut out some of the steaks. Then he moved down the hillside to where some brush promised abundant firewood and better forage for his horse.
The fire was soon lit and blazing away merrily, and the boy began to broil his steaks.
"Perhaps Dick and the others will see the smoke," he thought. "I trust they do, for I don't want to put in a whole night alone."
Tom ate his meal slowly, for he did not know what to do after it was finished. He wished he knew how far the nearest settlement was and in what direction.
After he had eaten his fill, he tied the balance of the steaks in a corner of his blanket, for the food must be kept for future use. Then he walked up to the top of the hill for another look around.
Suddenly he caught sight of a man riding swiftly toward him—a heavy-set man, with busky whiskers and a face that was almost black from constant exposure to the elements.
"Hullo, youngster!" cried the man, when he was within hailing distance. "All alone here?"
"I am!" cried Tom, and he felt something of joy to see a human being again.
"What brought you away out here? Hunting?"
"Not exactly, although I did bring down yonder animal," with a jerk of the thumb toward the deer. "I've lost my way."
"Did you, really? That's bad. It's lucky I ran across you.What's your handle?"
"Tom Rover," answered the youth boldly. "What is yours?"
"Noxton. So you are all alone?"
"Yes." Tom was trying to think where he had heard that name, but could not remember.
"Are you alone?"
"Well, hardly." Bill Noxton hesitated for a moment. "I was alone, but day before yesterday I fell in with a couple of Englishmen who are out here to see the sights, and they hired me to show 'em around. Our camp is just below here. Will you come down an' be introduced to the beef-eaters?"
"I suppose I might as well," answered Tom, never suspecting any trick. "I certainly don't want to remain alone any longer."
"Then come on. I told the beef-eaters I would be back inside of half an hour."
The man waited for Tom to mount, and then led the way down the hillside and into the valley. There was a patch of forest to pass, and they came out in a clearing on another hill, overlooking a mountain stream which flowed a hundred feet below.
"Here we are," cried Bill Noxton, as he suddenly wheeled behindTom. "Shall I introduce you, Mr. Rover?"
Tom looked ahead, and his heart dropped.
There around a camp-fire sat Arnold Baxter and his son Dan, and a man who was a stranger to him. Clearly he was trapped, and in the hands of the enemy.