DAVE AT ORELLA
It was two o’clock in the afternoon when Dave rode into Orella. This was
a typical mining town of Montana, containing but a single street with
stores, the majority of which were but one story in height. Back of this
street were probably half a hundred cabins standing at all sorts of
angles toward the landscape; and beyond these were the mines.
Just previous to entering the town Dave had stopped at a wayside spring
and there washed up. Before that he had brushed himself off as well as
he was able, so that when he entered the place the only evidences he
carried of the encounter with Nick Jasniff were some scratches on the
back of his hand and a small swelling on his left cheek.
The first person he met directed him to the offices of the Orella Mining
Company, of which Mr. Raymond Carson was the general manager.
“Is Mr. Carson in?” he questioned of the clerk who came forward to
interview him.
“He is,” was the answer. “Who shall I say wants to see him?”
“My name is Porter, and I was sent here to see him by Mr. Obray of the
Mentor Construction Company.”
“Oh, then I guess you can go right in,” returned the clerk, and showed
the way to a private office in the rear of the building.
Here Mr. Raymond Carson sat at his desk writing out some telegrams. Dave
quickly introduced himself and brought forth the legal-looking envelope
which had been intrusted to him. The manager of the mining company tore
it open and looked over the contents with care.
“Very good—just what I was waiting for,” he announced. “You can tell Mr.
Obray I am much obliged for his promptness.”
“Would you mind giving me a receipt for the papers?” questioned the
young civil engineer.
“Not at all.” The mining company manager called in one of the clerks.
“Here, take down a receipt,” and he dictated what he wished to say.
Dave at first thought he might tell of how close he had come to losing
the documents, but then considered that it might not be wise to mention
the occurrence. The receipt was written out and signed and passed over.
“How are matters coming along over at your camp?” questioned Mr. Raymond
Carson with a smile.
“Oh, we are doing very well, everything considered,” was Dave’s reply.
“We are having a little trouble on account of some of the rocks in
Section Six. They are afraid of a landslide. We’ve got to build two
bridges there, and our engineers are going to have their own troubles
getting the proper foundations.”
“Yes, that’s a great section for landslides. I was out there mining
once, and we had some of the worst cave-ins I ever heard about.”
“There is practically no mining around there now,” ventured Dave.
“No. The returns were not sufficient to warrant operations. Some time,
however, I think somebody will open up a vein there that will be worth
while.”
A few words more passed concerning the work of the construction company,
and then Dave prepared to leave. Just as he was about to step out of the
office, however, he turned.
“By the way, Mr. Carson, may I ask if there was a young fellow about my
own age here during the past week or two looking for a job—a fellow who
said his name was Jasper Nicholas?”
“A young fellow about your age named Nicholas?” mused the mine manager.
“Let me see. Did he have a cast in one eye?”
“The fellow I mean squints a good deal with one of his eyes. He is
rather tall and lanky.”
“Yes, he was here. He wanted a job in the mines. Said he didn’t think he
was cut out for office work. But somehow or other I didn’t like his
looks. Is he a friend of yours?”
“He is not!” declared Dave quickly. “In fact, he is just the opposite.
And what is more, he is a thief and has served a term in prison.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed the mine manager. “Are you sure of this?”
“Positive, sir. His real name is Nicholas Jasniff. Some years ago he and
another fellow stole some valuable jewels from a jewelry works. I aided
in capturing him and sending him to prison.”
“Humph! If that’s the case I am glad I didn’t hire him. As I said
before, I didn’t like his looks at all, and out here we go about as much
on looks as we do on anything.”
“He came to our camp, but Mr. Obray soon sent him about his business,”
said Dave.
After talking the matter over for a few minutes longer, but without
mentioning the attack on the trail, Dave rode away. At the end of the
street he stopped at a general store, which contained a drug department,
and while giving his horse a chance to feed, there obtained some
liniment with which he rubbed his lame shoulder and his hurt ankle.
Then, having obtained a bottle of lemon-soda with which to quench his
thirst, and help along his supper when he should stop to eat it, our
hero set off on the return to the construction camp.
By the time Dave reached the spot where the encounter with Jasniff had
occurred, it was growing somewhat dark on the trail. Over to the
westward the mountains were much taller than those where the trail ran,
and the deep shadows were creeping upward from the valley below. Soon
the orb of day sank out of sight, and then the darkness increased.
So far on the return Dave had met but two men—old prospectors who had
paid scant attention to him as he passed. He had stopped at a convenient
point to eat what remained of the lunch he had brought along, washing it
down with the lemon-soda. Presently he came to a fork in the trail, and
by a signboard placed there knew that he was now less than four miles
from the construction camp.
The hard ride had tired the young civil engineer greatly, and he was
glad enough to let Sport move forward on a walk. The horse, too, had
found the journey a hard one, and was well content to progress at a
reduced rate of speed.
The narrow portion of the footway having been left behind, horse and
rider came out into something of a hollow on the mountainside. Here and
there were a number of loose rocks and also quite a growth of scrub
timber. Dave was just passing through the densest of the timber when an
overhanging branch caught his hat and sent it to the ground.
“Whoa there, Sport!” he cried, and bringing his horse to a halt, he
leaped down to recover the hat.
Dave had just picked up the head covering when he heard a low sound
coming from some bushes close at hand. It was not unlike the cry of a
cat, and the youth was instantly on the alert. He remembered only too
well how, when he had been at Star Ranch, a wildcat, commonly called in
that section a bobcat, had gotten among the horses belonging to himself
and his chums and caused no end of trouble.
The cry was followed by several seconds of intense silence, and then
came the unmistakable snarl of a bobcat, followed instantly by a leap on
the part of Sport.
“Whoa there!” cried Dave, and was just in time to catch the horse by the
bridle. Then Sport veered around and kicked out viciously at the
brushwood.
The bobcat was there, and evidently had no chance to retreat farther,
the bushes being backed up by a number of high rocks. With a snarl, it
leaped out into the open directly beside the horse and Dave. Then, as
the horse switched around again and let fly with his hind hoofs, the
bobcat made a flying leap past Dave, landing in the branches of a nearby
tree.
“Whoa there, Sport!” cried the youth, and now lost no time in leaping
into the saddle. In the meanwhile the bobcat sprang from one limb of the
tree to another and disappeared behind some dense foliage.
Had our hero had a rifle or a shotgun, he might have gone on a hunt for
the beast. But he carried only his small automatic, and he did not
consider this a particularly good weapon with which to stir up the
bobcat. He went on his way, and now Sport set off on a gallop, evidently
glad to leave such a dangerous vicinity behind. Although horses are much
larger, bobcats are such vicious animals that no horses care to confront
them.
“I sure am having my fill of adventures to-day,” mused Dave grimly.
“First Nick Jasniff, and now that bobcat! I’ll have to tell the others
about the cat, and maybe we can organize a hunt and lay the beast low.
The men won’t want to face a bobcat while at work any more than they
would care to face that rattlesnake I shot.”
It was not long after this when the lights of the construction camp came
into view, and soon Dave was riding down among the buildings. Roger was
on the watch, and came forward to greet him.
“Had a safe trip, I see!” called out the senator’s son. “Good enough!”
“I had a safe trip in one way if not in another,” announced Dave. “Two
things didn’t suit me at all. I met Nick Jasniff, and then I also met a
bobcat.”
“You don’t say!” ejaculated Roger. “Tell me about it.”
“I want to report to Mr. Obray first, Roger. If you want to go along you
can.”
Dave found the construction camp manager at the doorway of the cabin he
occupied, reading a newspaper which was several days old. He, as well as
Roger, listened with keen interest to what our hero had to relate.
“And so that rascal took your forty-odd dollars, did he?” exclaimed
Ralph Obray, when Dave was telling the story. “He certainly is a bad
egg.”
“I’m mighty glad he didn’t get away with your papers, Mr. Obray,”
answered our hero soberly. “Of course, I don’t know how valuable they
were, but I presume they were worth a good deal more than the contents
of my pocketbook.”
“You are right there, Porter. The documents would be hard to duplicate.
And I’m mighty glad they are safe in Mr. Carson’s hands and that we have
the receipt for them. Now, in regard to your losing your money: If we
can’t get it back from this fellow Jasniff, I’ll see what the company
can do toward reimbursing you.”
“Oh, I sha’n’t expect that, Mr. Obray!” cried the youth. “It was no
concern of yours that I was robbed.”
“I don’t know about that. If you hadn’t taken that trip for us, this
Jasniff might not have gotten the chance to take your money. In one way,
I think it is up to the company to make the loss good; and I’ll put it
up to the home office in my next report.”
“You certainly ought to let the people at Double Eight Ranch know what
sort Jasniff is!” cried Roger.
“Of course, I can’t prove that he took the money,” returned Dave. “There
were no witnesses to what occurred, and I suppose he would claim that
his word was as good as mine.”
“But we know it isn’t!” burst out the senator’s son indignantly. “He’s a
rascal, and I intend that everybody around here shall know it!”
“You certainly had your share of happenings,” was Mr. Obray’s comment.
“It was bad enough to have the fight with Jasniff without running afoul
of that wildcat. You ought to have brought him down with your pistol, as
you did that rattlesnake,” and he smiled broadly.
“I didn’t get a chance for a shot,” explained Dave. “I had to grab the
horse for fear he would run away and leave me to walk to the camp. And
besides, the wildcat moved about as quickly as I can tell about it.”
“Maybe we can form a party and round the wildcat up,” put in Roger
eagerly.
“I was thinking of that, Roger.”
Of course Dave had to tell Frank Andrews about the encounter with
Jasniff and also about meeting the wildcat. Several others were present
when the story was retold, and soon nearly everybody in the camp was
aware of what had taken place.
“I certainly hope you get your money back,” remarked Larry Bond.
“Gracious! I wouldn’t like to lose forty-odd dollars out of my pay! I
couldn’t afford it.”
“We’ll have to round up that bobcat some day,” said old John Hixon. “If
we manage to kill him off, it will discourage others from coming to this
neighborhood.”
“Well, any time you say so, I’ll go out with you to try to lay the
bobcat low,” answered Dave.