A THRILLING DISCOVERY
“Me Cat-foot Charlie. Me come!”
“Yes. He’s the cat and I’m the foot,” answered another voice, and
Stacy Brown strolled into camp with his chest thrown out. “I’ve been
captured, sentenced to death, and, being the foot, I did some fast
footwork, and here I am. Old chap Pussy here found me and brought me
back. Oh, no, I wasn’t lost. I never know where I am, anyway. He
showed me the way. Who—”
“Our sweet dreams of peace are now at an end,” complained Emma.
Stacy did not heed her words nor the congratulations of his
companions who were happier than words could express to have him
with them again. The fat boy was interested in the man who lay by
the fire.
“Who’s that?” he demanded.
“His name is Murray,” answered Lieutenant Wingate. “He and Jim Haley
fought a duel to-day, and Two-gun—that is the man’s name—got a bit
the worst of it.”
“Two-gun Murray! Hey, you! I’m wise to you. You’re the fellow that
stole my fish—the same person that I clouted over the head. You say
he is wounded, Uncle Hip?”
“Yes, seriously so.”
“Think it would do much harm if I were to give him another wallop
over the head—just for luck, you know?”
“Stacy!” Tom Gray’s voice was stern. “Get away from that man and let
him alone!”
“Oh, all right, but I would like to give him just one clout. It’s
coming to him.”
Captain Gray took firm hold of the fat boy’s collar and projected
him to some distance from the wounded man.
“Cat-foot, have you word for me?” demanded Tom.
The Indian grunted and handed Tom a message. It was from Hamilton
White, and the smile that lighted up the captain’s face as he read
it, told the Overland Riders that it contained good news.
“We are to move as soon as we can pack up,” announced Tom. “Cat-foot
will accompany us.” That was all Captain Gray would say.
Emma, whose curiosity was proverbial, pouted and complained that
every one of the party seemed to think it smart to make a mystery of
everything.
After offering the Indian food, which he refused and sat down by
himself, the Overlanders quizzed Stacy about what had happened to
him. Stacy told what he knew of his capture, and of the incidents
that followed. In the course of the conversation it developed that
Cat-foot Charlie had been sent to pick up the fat boy’s trail and
follow it until he found him. Hamilton White had brought that about.
Cat-foot had gone to the scene of Hippy’s imprisonment and from
there soon found Stacy’s trail. This was made the easier because he
had eavesdropped on two of the bandits and learned how Stacy got
away.
“Fat boy, him run like Indian chased by bad spirits,” announced the
Indian when asked about the chase.
Stacy, it developed, discovered that the Indian was chasing him, and
from that moment on it was a race, the frightened Overlander making
top speed to drop his pursuer. The race ended when Cat-foot finally
overtook him, leaped on the boy’s back, and held him until he had
explained what he wanted. Stacy’s courage thereupon returned.
“Our fallen hero,” observed Emma when the tale was finished.
“Yes, but I didn’t get shot,” retorted Stacy.
The Overlanders laughed heartily at Stacy’s retort, for it was a rap
at Emma, though the boy did not know it. He laughed with them just
the same.
“Where are we going?” Nora wanted to know.
“Northwest,” answered Tom briefly. “You will know all about it
within twenty-four hours. The question is, what are we to do with
our wounded man. We surely can’t leave him here. Cat-foot, do you
know this fellow?”
“Me know.”
“What do you think we had better do with him?”
“Shoot um!” was the prompt reply of the Indian.
“Pussy, you are a man of rare judgment,” complimented Stacy,
grinning at the Indian.
“It is what one would expect from one savage to another,” murmured
Emma.
“What did the Chief say about it?” demanded Tom. “I mean Mr. White.”
“Chief say me stay. Men come git Two-gun.”
“Why do you call Hamilton the Chief?” wondered Emma.
“How many of the bandits did they get?” questioned Tom, ignoring
Emma’s inquiry.
“Not know.”
“Very well, I will turn Two-gun over to you, but, Cat-foot, if you
do one little thing to disturb that man you will have to answer to
me. When he asks for a drink, give it to him and say nothing—say
nothing at all to him at any time unless he wants something. You
also will be held responsible for his not getting away, and after
the men take him, unless you get different orders from the Chief,
you will come to us at Three-Mile Pass. That’s all, except that we
will leave food for you and Two-gun.”
At Tom’s direction all hands began packing, making ready for another
night journey. Stacy complained bitterly, saying he hadn’t had a
night’s sleep in so long that his eyelids hung down over his cheeks.
“Where are we going, anyway?” he wanted to know.
“Three-Mile Pass, you heard me say. Do you know where that is?”
returned Captain Gray.
“No. Do you?”
Tom said he had a fair idea of its location. Though tired and
somewhat nervous, the Overland girls prepared for the journey with
their usual cheerfulness, and were under way in an hour. Tom
selected an unsuspected pass as the route from the meadow, and the
riders were soon swallowed up in its deep gloom. It seemed as though
night had poured the blackest of her coloring into this pass, but
the trail was fairly smooth and one could not stray from it without
bumping into the rocks.
No halt was made until daylight. Then the party stopped for
breakfast, and, while there, horses were heard approaching. The
girls were startled, and looked to Tom for orders, but Captain Gray
merely smiled.
“Don’t worry; only some guests for breakfast,” he said.
“It’s Hamilton!” cried Emma Dean, as two horsemen rode into sight.
“And the Peanut Man,” added Nora joyously.
“Put over a fresh pot of coffee,” suggested Grace. “They look tired,
and goodness knows one, at least, has a right to be tired.”
“Peanuts, peanuts, ladies and gentlemen!” called Jim Haley. “The
International product has reached to the utmost limits of the
Cascades already, and will soon be over the border. Howdy, folks!”
It was a real welcome that the Overlanders gave the two men. Elfreda
and Grace were studying the face of Haley, with the same thought in
the mind of each. Could this carefree, temperamental Haley be the
Haley that they had seen facing the bandit gunman calmly, never
flinching under the bandit’s fire, and in the end downing his man?
It did not seem possible.
“How did you make out with your patient?” he asked, his face
suddenly assuming a grave expression as he shook hands with Miss
Briggs.
“His wounds were serious, but, if he is not neglected, I think he
will pull through.”
“He will not be neglected where he is going,” was the significant
reply. “The officers have taken him away from your last camp by now,
so don’t worry. After a snack we will have a talk all around.”
The breakfast from then on was a happy reunion, and even Elfreda
Briggs forgot to be distant towards Hamilton White. Emma managed to
sit beside him, her face wearing a most devoted look.
When the dishes had been put away, the party settled down to talk
over their experiences, and after a little Tom Gray cleared his
throat and announced that he had something to say.
“You Overlanders have accused some of us of all the time making a
mystery of everything. While clearing myself, there are others
present whom I wish to clear of any suspicion of doing other than
their duty.
“Here are the facts: When I came up here with my wife and her party,
I was supposed to come as a forester, but as a matter of fact I came
on quite another mission. For a long time tourists and others have
been preyed upon by mountain bandits, the Guerrillas of the
Cascades, as some call them. As a forester here for a survey it was
thought that I might get a line, so to speak, on the gang and its
lair without them suspecting me. I did that to a certain extent.
Then, too, there was a famous government forester who came to
Washington State on the same mission. He thought he could best look
over the ground by joining out with a party of tourists, and he was
unfortunate enough to fall in with the Overland Riders. That man
knew these forests and mountains, and, after finishing this
particular mission, he is to be the chief of the foresters, which,
in fact, he is already.”
“Hamilton White!” cried Nora.
Tom Gray nodded.
“And he has done his work well. In addition to that he has been a
wonderful guide and a delightful companion to you folks.”
“Even if he did deceive us,” said Elfreda.
“Not all of us,” spoke up Grace, who then told of the wigwagging
incident when she learned that he was the chief of the foresters
through doing some signaling on her own account.
Ham White laughed heartily.
“I suspected something of the sort,” he added with a chuckle.
“To continue my story,” resumed Captain Gray, “another man came to
us sailing under false colors, if you wish to call it that. This man
proposed that the Overlanders be used as a decoy to lure the bandits
on, knowing that the ruffians believed one of our party possessed
the key to Sam Petersen’s gold find. Ham White objected to
subjecting us to peril, but when the newcomer showed him orders from
the Washington authorities directing White to coöperate fully with
him and carry out his orders, White was obliged to obey.”
The eyes of the Overland Riders turned toward Jim Haley, who
actually grew rosy under their accusing gaze.
“Don’t look at me that way. I confess, but you shall have your
peanuts just the same,” he promised laughingly.
“Folks, know Jim Haley, chief of the special agents,” introduced
Tom. “Between White and Haley the entire band of guerrillas, with
one exception, has been rounded up. Some are on their way to stand
trial, others are being conveyed to a hospital to be treated for
their wounds, and two are dead. They have spied on this party,
watched their every move ever since they came into the Washington
forests, and especially so since Sam Petersen died from a gunshot
wound inflicted by one of the Murrays.”
“How perfectly thrilling!” breathed Emma Dean.
“The big round-up came yesterday when the bandits were preparing to
make a mass attack on our camp, but Haley outwitted them. They did
not know that a body of forest rangers and sheriff’s deputies were
secreted on your side of the meadow, ready not only to defend you,
but to capture the ruffians who were about to try to take you and
force information from you. It was Haley who, as you know, went out
to meet Two-gun Murray, and beat him in a standup gun duel,” said
Tom.
“Captain! Please talk about the weather,” begged Haley amid
laughter.
“They didn’t find out about the gold mine after all, did they?”
chuckled Hippy. “Say, Haley, I know you, you old rascal! You’re the
fellow with a cold who rescued me from the bandits,” he accused, and
Haley agreed with a nod.
“Speaking of gold, Hippy Wingate,” spoke up Elfreda Briggs, “I think
I am entitled to an explanation. How did you chance to have my bag
of gold in your possession?”
“Ham White gave it to me, and told me to hang onto it—that it wasn’t
safe for you to carry it around.”
“Indeed!”
“I took it from the bunk where Petersen lay, before you came in the
shack that day. I expected that the gang would return, so I scraped
up some pebbles and substituted them for the gold, replacing the
canvas bag where I found it,” explained Ham White.
“Was it you who exchanged shots with Two-gun Murray that day?” she
asked.
Ham nodded, and Elfreda bent an accusing glance on Stacy Brown.
“Well, I saved you from that ruffian, didn’t I?” protested the fat
boy.
“Yes, Stacy, and I forgive you for trying to make me think you had
suffered the bandit to shoot at you while you lay behind a bush,”
smiled Elfreda.
“Not if my legs were in good working order. I wouldn’t lie behind
any bush or anything else and let a sure-thing gunman blaze away at
me,” declared Stacy Brown with an earnestness that raised a merry
peal of laughter.
“Time to break camp,” announced Tom Gray. “We can chatter after we
have made a new camp, which will not be many miles from here.”
“Where are we bound for?” asked Hippy.
“Three Mile Pass.” Captain Gray’s face wore a broad smile, and
Grace, knowing him so well, regarded him suspiciously.
“Tom has something up his sleeve,” Grace confided in Elfreda.
“They all have,” observed Miss Briggs. “These honest men who have
opened their hearts to us have not yet opened the aforesaid hearts
far enough.”
“Boots and saddles!” cried Hippy, and the Overland Riders with their
guests took to their mounts. It was a happy ride that morning; the
air was cool, birds were twittering, and Hippy was trying to sing,
his efforts in that direction raising a perfect storm of protest.
No stop was made, except now and then to water the horses, until
nearly noon. Then they halted, apparently for no cause at all, the
visitors and Tom Gray fussing with saddle girths, all the time
regarded narrowly by Grace and Elfreda.
At last they started on through a rapidly broadening pass, following
the dry course of a mountain stream. The sunlight flooded the pass
as their trail bore more to the right, and at the turn Tom Gray held
up his hand, a signal to halt.
“Oh, look at the Old Lady of the Mountain!” yelled Stacy. “Yes,
she’s got a kid on either side of her. Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed.
“Elfreda!” Grace gripped the arm of her companion. “‘Lost
River—Grandma and the Children—Three Peaks dead east.’ Look! There
are the peaks. The sun is at the meridian. Oh, Elfreda!”
“And look—the yellow sands of Lost River. Oh, Grace! If it should be
only a dream I’d faint, after all I have been through to get here.
See! The old lady’s face is black as ink, just as that poor, unhappy
old prospector said it was.”
“Children, do you know where you are?” called Captain Gray, none of
the party having heard the exclamations of Grace and Elfreda.
“Yes, Tom Gray. I am sitting on my gold mine,” answered Miss Briggs,
trying to control her voice and keep her elation out of it.
“Why, Elfreda! I thought you did not want a gold mine—that you
wished to hear nothing more about the hateful subject,” chided
Grace.
“I think I—I have the fever, and—” confessed Elfreda.
“You are in fact sitting on your gold mine. When I learned that Lost
River was at the feet of Grandma and the Children, with Three Peaks
dead east, I recognized the description instantly, for I had been
here, and was impressed with the odd formations to be seen here,”
said Captain Gray. “You will recall the words of the old prospector
in the diary and on the sheet on which you wrote down what he told
you. I was here trying to locate the headquarters of the Murrays,
and, for your information, we are less than half a mile from the
lair of the Guerrillas of the Cascades—the Murrays. Such is the
irony of fate,” added Tom.
“Gold! Hooray!” yelled Stacy, tossing his hat into the air. “I hope
it doesn’t turn out to be iron.”
“Please don’t get excited,” admonished Grace. “We are not certain
that there is any gold here.”
“Any gold here?” answered Tom. “Ham, tell them what you know.”
“Mrs. Gray, when I left you so mysteriously I came up here at
Captain Gray’s direction to make a thorough survey—to find out, if
possible, if Petersen’s was an idle dream or the real thing. It was
real! I have already panned enough of the sand of Lost River through
my fingers to make a fair meal ticket for this party. It is true
that we have not found the real vein, but we know it cannot be far
from here, and we are going to search for it.”
“Say! Whose gold mine is this?” demanded Lieutenant Hippy Wingate.
“Whose? Why, Miss Briggs’, of course,” answered Ham White. “I have
sent a trusty ranger to Seattle to file her claim, which we have
staked out broadly, and we are in hopes that it may take in the
mother lode. In any event, we are on the ground, and we will broaden
our claim so that you may be protected. Am I forgiven for all the
deception I have practiced on you and Miss Briggs and the others?”
asked White, addressing Grace.
“It is for us to ask your pardon, Mr. White, for suspecting that you
were not what you seemed, or so it seemed to us at one time.”
Stacy had leaped from his horse and was digging feverishly in the
sands of Lost River.
“I got one! Whoopee!” he howled, holding up a “nugget” nearly as big
as an egg.
Hippy snatched the “nugget” from him and turned it over in his hand,
then broke into uproarious laughter.
“Why, you simp! That’s not a nugget, it is merely a piece of quartz.
Dig some more, Chunky.”
“I suggest that we do not lose our heads, and that we make camp and
behave,” cried Grace.
The Overlanders agreed, and in the happiest frame of mind they
dismounted and pitched their camp, after which they walked over the
claim with Tom, Mr. White and Haley as guides. On the way up the
channel of the dry stream Nora picked up three small nuggets of real
gold.
“The luck of the Irish, me darlin’,” cried Nora, playfully patting
Hippy on the cheek.
“I wish it understood,” announced Elfreda after their return to
camp, “that this is not Elfreda Briggs’ claim, but the Overland
Riders’ claim.”
“Too late,” answered Tom. “Your claim will be filed before you or
anyone else can stop it.”
“I will see about that,” murmured Elfreda.
That evening, by the campfire, the members of the party discussed
their good fortune, and made plans for the future.
Busy days followed, some of the party panning the sands of Lost
River for gold, and finding enough to arouse them to a high pitch of
excitement. There was no thought of continuing the journey, for
there was work to be done where they were. A mining expert had been
sent for, and his investigations were still in progress five weeks
later when Grace asked Tom to take her home.
Jim Haley had not remained long with them, for he, too, had work to
do in connection with evidence against the captured bandits.
The others of the party decided that they would return with Grace,
but Ham White, at Miss Briggs’ request, together with three former
forest rangers, remained on the claim to guard and work it, and
assist in locating, if possible, the rich vein that all believed
could not be far away.
“You are all coming to see us next winter at Haven Home,” reminded
Grace on the morning of their departure for Cresco, where they were
to board a train for the east—and Home! “It probably will be along
about Christmas time, that being the most joyous season for old
friends to get together, and we will have a Christmas tree and
everything,” she added, laughing.
Good byes were said and the Overland Riders retraced their trail,
the last journey that, as a body, they probably ever would take. A
week later found them at their homes. Each had his own life to lead
now, for the years were drawing on, and the Overlanders were no
longer children.