JIM SANDERS.
On the afternoon of the following day a party of four stood facing the
opening into the deserted copper mine.
The most prominent of the group was the bronzed and bearded Gideon
Prawle, who had fully recovered from the effects of the drug
administered to him by Otis Clymer.
The other three, it is almost needless to say, were Jack Howard,
Charlie Fox and Meyer Dinkelspeil.
No difficulty had been experienced by Charlie in obtaining his father’s
permission to accompany Jack Howard and Mr. Prawle to Montana after
Gideon had explained the situation to the doctor and shown him the
magnificent specimens of pure copper he carried in his grip.
As soon as Prawle missed his pocketbook a new light broke in on those
in the secret.
They agreed that the thief was Otis Clymer; that Meyer had been right
when he said he had seen Clymer’s face at the partly open window that
night, and that the villain set fire to the surgery not only for the
purpose of revenging himself on Dr. Fox, but to effectually get rid of
Gideon Prawle as a bar to his newly-hatched plan of getting possession
of the copper mine for himself.
Dr. Fox had strongly objected to losing the services of his German boy,
who was a handy factor in his establishment.
But Meyer had made up his mind to go to Montana with the others, and it
was useless to oppose him, for he declared he would surely run away of
his own accord.
As Prawle and the two boys took his part, and interceded in his favor,
the doctor was prevailed upon to give a reluctant consent to his going
with the party.
“Well, boys, here we are on the ground at last,” said Prawle,
enthusiastically. “Here’s the creek I spoke to you about which runs
into the North Branch of the Cheyenne River, five miles or so away,
and yonder you see the hole in the rock which affords entrance to one
of the richest copper deposits in the great Northwest. Unfortunately,
it isn’t really ours as yet till we find Jim Sanders, who sold me the
option on the property.”
“And it may never be ours as the case stands,” said Jack, gloomily.
“Otis Clymer, who robbed you of your pocketbook, and thereby came into
possession of the option, has probably destroyed that document, and
it’s pretty certain he lost no time coming here to get the inner track
of you. His object, of course, if he has been able to raise the money
necessary for his purpose, is to meet Sanders and persuade that very
unreliable person to sell him the ground, knowing that this course will
be perfectly safe, since you will never be able to present the option
yourself. If, after he has accomplished this, you interfere with your
claim he will demand that you produce the option, which, of course, you
cannot do. Our only hope in this matter is to run across Jim Sanders
before Clymer can get his work in. All you will then have to do is to
pay down the balance of the purchase money, and get a bill of sale of
the ground.”
“That’s all right,” spoke up Charlie Fox; “but even if he does succeed
in getting the bulge on us, what is to prevent us having him arrested
on a telegraphic order from Sackville, for the double crime of
attempted murder and arson?”
“We could try that, of course, but I fear we should meet with many
difficulties out here, especially if he is smart enough to make friends
with an eye to that particular contingency, and the fellow is not such
a fool but to understand and provide against the risk of arrest and
subsequent extradition to Nebraska.”
“Vell, off ve lets dot rooster got der best off us, den I votes ve go
py der wilderness oud und kick ourselufs for a bardy of shackasses,”
interjected Meyer Dinkelspeil, with solemn earnestness.
“Good for you, Dutchman,” said Prawle, slapping the round-faced youth
on the shoulder. “And now, boys, follow me into the mine and I will
show you a sight which will make your mouth water. You will see more
copper in five minutes than you ever looked at in all your lives
before.”
A couple of hours later Gideon Prawle and the boys returned to Rocky
Gulch.
They ate supper at the hotel, and having arranged to bunk there for the
night, Prawle set about making inquiries relative to Jim Sanders.
“I never know’d Jim Sanders to be of sich importance as he seems to be
jest now, stranger,” said the landlord of the Rocky Gulch Hotel, when
Prawle button-holed him in search of the information he wanted. “You
air ther second one in two days wot wants to know ther wharabouts of
Lazy Jim, as we call him, for we’ve never known him to work a day sence
he came to ther Gulch nigh on to a year ago. ’Pears to me your face is
kinder familiar, pard. Warn’t you ’round these diggin’s a fortnight or
three weeks ago?”
“I was,” said Prawle. “I bunked here a couple of nights and had my
meals in your dining-room.”
“Wal, now, I thought I warn’t mistook in your phiz. We hev strangers
comin’ and goin’ all ther time, but I generally remembers a face, once
I takes notice of it. What might be your object in wantin’ to see Jim?”
“I want to see him about a bit of ground down by Beaver Creek I bought
of him when I was here last. I paid him $100 down, and owe him a small
balance which I am now ready to settle.”
“Wal, now thet accounts for ther wad Jim had at the time. Folks ’round
here thought he mought hev robbed somebody, but as thar warn’t no proof
agin him, of course he warn’t troubled. But he didn’t stay ’round here
more’n a day before he lighted out, and he hain’t been heard from
sence.”
“You say there was somebody else looking for him yesterday?”
“Sure. A big cityfied-lookin’ chap named Plunkett.”
That name conveyed no information to Prawle, who had not heard of the
landlord of Sackville’s eyesore, and the prospector wondered if he was
an emissary of Otis Clymer.
“Mought I ask what you wanted with thet there land down by ther krik?”
inquired the proprietor of the Rocky Gulch Hotel, curiously. “It don’t
seem a likely sort of place thet I hev heard of. You hain’t diskivered
payin’ dirt, hev you?”
This was asked with undisguised eagerness.
“No,” replied Prawle, with assumed carelessness. “No such luck.”
“Wal, now, I wuz in hopes you had,” said the man, in a tone of
disappointment. “’Cause why, these here diggin’s aren’t just what
they wuz a year ago. Things look like as if they wuz goin’ ter peter
out. Wal, you hain’t sed what you bought Jim’s claim for. You aren’t
expectin’ ter build a palis an’ live thar jest for ther fun of ther
thing, are you?”
“Well, hardly,” replied Prawle, falling in with the man’s rude humor.
“I’ve discovered there’s a peculiar kind of stone near the creek that
might be used to advantage in railroad building, and----”
“Oh, I see,” said the landlord of the hotel, thrown off the scent as
Prawle intended. “Wal, I wish you luck with it.”
Prawle asked several other inhabitants of Rocky Gulch about Sanders,
but each one had the same answer--Jim had not been seen in the Gulch
for over two weeks, and they did not know where he was.
“Kind of hard luck, isn’t it?” said Prawle, when he rejoined his
companions, after more than an hour’s ineffectual search for a clew to
Sanders’ present whereabouts.
“I should say it is,” replied Jack Howard. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ll have to go back to Trinity in the morning and see what we can
learn in that place. By the way, I heard there was another person
trying to locate Sanders.”
“Otis Clymer!” exclaimed Jack and Charlie in a breath.
“No,” replied Prawle, shaking his head. “It was a big man, named
Plunkett.”
“Plunkett!” shouted Charlie Fox, in a tone of astonishment. “Not Dave
Plunkett?”
“I didn’t hear what his first name was. Do you know somebody by that
name?”
“The cheap hotel where Otis Clymer lodged of late in Sackville is kept
by a man named Dave Plunkett. I’ll bet Clymer has taken him into his
confidence as a moneyed partner in this enterprise, and so that he
himself can keep under cover as much as possible. He’s a cute rascal.”
“If that’s the case,” said Gideon Prawle, reflectively, “we’ve got our
work cut out for us to beat the pair of them. Tell me what you know
about this Plunkett.”
Charlie gave the prospector the history of Dave Plunkett’s operations
in Sackville, so far as he knew, as well as his opinion of the man’s
character.
“Well,” said Prawle, “I judge if he rounds up Jim Sanders before we do,
it’ll be all day with us. Without that option I haven’t got the ghost
of a claim on the ground. It’s a thousand pities things have turned out
as they have. Who would have suspected we had a listener that night in
your pop’s surgery?” looking at Charlie Fox.
“I never heard of such confounded hard luck,” returned Charlie, kicking
the wooden front of the hotel spitefully in his silent wrath. “Just
when we have sighted a big fortune for the crowd of us--not to speak of
a million or two which, by right of discovery, is coming to you, Mr.
Prawle--in steps a pair of unmitigated rascals, with every chance of
scooping the trick at our expense.”
“By shinger!” chipped in Meyer: “do we stood dot? I feels so mad dot I
vould like to do somedings already yet.”
At another time Jack and Charlie would have given the German boy the
laugh, but they were not in laughing humor at that moment.
The outlook was altogether too serious.
Next morning the rig which had brought them from Trinity to Rocky Gulch
was hitched up, and Gideon Prawle and the three boys started back along
the trail.
They had perhaps accomplished half the distance to the river town, when
a solitary horseman, astride of a wretched nag, was seen coming toward
them in the distance.
“By shinger!” exclaimed Meyer. “Off dot don’d peen a scarecrow I’m a
liar!”
“He certainly looks like a hard case,” said Jack, watching the
stranger’s approach with not a little curiosity.
When the distance between them had lessened about one half Prawle, who
had been examining the newcomer with great attention, suddenly gave a
shout that fairly electrified his young companions.
“Jim Sanders, by all that’s wonderful!”