HIS FATE IN THE BALANCE
“It’s a red hot one, I’ll bet!” exclaimed Hippy.
“Hippy!” admonished Nora.
“What is it, Tom?” begged Grace, slipping an arm through his. “I
think I know.”
“You are right, Hippy.” Captain Gray held the slip of paper down so
the feeble light of the fire shone upon it. “It is from Stacy.
Listen:
“‘Help! I’m in Dutch again. Get me out, quick. They are a lot of
ruf—of fine gentlemen here, but they want something that you’ve got.
If they don’t get it I’m to be shot at sunrise. Oh, wow! They want a
book they say you have, and they want it bad. You are to leave it on
top of the rock by the camp and go away. They want something else,
too—a bag of gold that you or somebody took from that fellow
Petersen. Mebby I’ll see him soon. Do you folks know anything about
the gold? I told them the nearest thing to gold that I’d seen up
here was a sunset the other night. They say the book and the gold
doesn’t belong to you—that one of our party stole it. You folks have
been holding out on me! I’ll be even with you for that. Can’t write
any more ’cause the mail man won’t wait. Hurry, for the love of
Mike! Hurry or I’m a dead one! Wow! Stacy.’”
“They wouldn’t dare!” cried Nora.
“Oh, yes they would,” answered Tom. “The Murrays are a desperate
gang. Even if they get what they demand they might put him out of
the way, but it is my opinion that they will simply set him adrift,
in which event we shall find him. How do you communicate, White?” he
asked, turning to the guide.
“He wigwags,” spoke up Grace; whereat the guide gave her a quick
glance, but the Overland girl’s face told him nothing.
“Please take your flashlight and see if you can pick up a station
with it, White. If so, tell them where the boy may possibly be and
ask them to send someone after him.”
“Just a moment, Captain. May I speak with you aside?”
Tom stepped away from his companions, and he and the guide held a
long whispered conversation. Tom then returned to the others.
[Illustration: “The Flaming Arrow!”]
“Mr. White advises against doing as I suggested. He says the rangers
are already looking for Stacy, and that to signal would simply be
putting the bandits on their guard. There are other reasons which he
has given me in confidence. You shall know all about it later on.
Now may I see that diary, Miss Briggs?”
“Yes, of course. Throw it away if you like. I never want to see the
hateful thing again. What I do think I am entitled to, though, is an
explanation from you, Hippy Wingate. When, where and how did you get
my bag of gold?”
“Perhaps a good little fairy, knowing my love for the yellow stuff,
dropped it into my mess kit so that I might buy gold plates to use
at meals in place of the luxurious tin plates that I am now using.
How did you get it, J. Elfreda?”
“Mr. Petersen gave it to me. He said the Murrays knew he had it, and
that it was to be mine for what he was pleased to call my kindness
to him. He gave me the diary at the same time because it held a
supposed clue to Lost Mine and Lost River, a river paved with gold.”
“I don’t wonder that Stacy accuses us of ‘holding out on him,’”
chuckled Tom Gray.
“I might, and with very good reason, make the same accusation
against certain persons unmentionable,” retorted Miss Briggs, which
brought a laugh from her companions.
Tom Gray, in the meantime, had been running over the pages of the
diary, noting every entry made by the old prospector.
“A leaf has been torn out of here. It looks as if it were lately
torn out. Did you do it?” he asked, addressing Miss Briggs.
Grace explained that the leaf was torn out when the book was
snatched from her hand one night, of which circumstance she had
already told Tom.
“What was on it?”
“We destroyed the leaf,” spoke up Miss Briggs.
“That wasn’t what I asked you, J. Elfreda. Of course you do not have
to answer if you don’t wish to. I am simply trying to get at the
bottom of this affair as a guide to our immediate actions. It is
very important.”
Elfreda glanced at Hamilton White. He caught the glance and,
instantly comprehending, stepped back and began poking the fire and
putting on fresh fuel.
“‘Grandma and the Children—three peaks due east,’” whispered
Elfreda.
She saw a sudden flash in Tom Gray’s eyes, an expression that
Elfreda was unable to interpret.
“‘When the sun is at the meridian the sands turn to golden yellow,’”
he quoted from the diary. “This, taken in connection with what you
say was on the torn leaf, is quite enlightening. I think we will
tear out two more pages while we are about it, if you have no
objection.”
“Go as far as you like, Tom. You may throw the book away if you
wish. It has brought us only bad luck,” said Miss Briggs.
“I say, White! My suggestion is that we leave this confounded diary
where Stacy directs us to leave it.”
“And the gold?”
“Well, that is different. I don’t like the idea of giving gold to
those cutthroats. What is the value of the stuff? Let us look it
over.”
Tom Gray examined the nuggets, weighed them in his hand, a stone at
a time, and, disregarding the “dust,” closed and secured the bag.
Then he opened it, and weighing out several nuggets again in his
hand, glanced over at Miss Briggs.
“I should say that there is something more than two thousand
dollars’ worth of nuggets and ‘dirt’ there, of which I hold from
five to seven hundred dollars’ worth in my hand. Elfreda, you
probably will think I have a cold nerve to make the suggestion, but
I propose that we put these nuggets in a bag with the diary and
leave them for the bandits.”
“What! Give five hundred dollars to a bunch of bandits?” cried Hippy
aghast. “Impossible! Are you crazy?”
“We may be, at that,” admitted Captain Gray.
“Say yes. Tom knows what he is doing,” whispered Grace, nudging Miss
Briggs.
“Of course, Tom,” replied Elfreda promptly. “If you say leave it
all, I’ll say the same. You can’t imagine what a relief it will be
to me to be rid of it.”
“Thank you. White! A word with you!”
An earnest conversation followed between Tom Gray and the guide,
following which, Ham White packed his kit, stowed some food in his
bag and brought up his horse.
“Look here, old top! Where are you going?” demanded Hippy.
“On business, Lieutenant. The Captain can tell you why. I hope to
see you soon. Good-night and good luck.” With that the guide turned
his horse toward the south, the opposite direction from that which
the Overland Riders were following. They were amazed, and demanded
an explanation.
“It isn’t safe to say a word,” answered Tom. “I’ll tell you this
much, though. Pack up and be ready to start on a long ride within an
hour. We are heading towards home!”