A MESSAGE FROM MONTANA
When the Hardy boys returned home that night after their afternoon's
fun and sat down to an ample hot dinner of steak and onions, with
mashed potatoes, thick gravy "and all the trimmings," as Jadbury Wilson
expressed it, they found that the old miner had won a firm place in the
household. He was able to be up and around again, although he hobbled
painfully about, but his tales of the early days in the mining country
of the West had won the interest of the women.
Mrs. Hardy was particularly interested when he talked of Montana,
because of the fact that her husband was in that particular state at
the time.
As for Aunt Gertrude, she was in a constant condition of solicitous
excitement seeing that the old man was comfortable. And comfortable he
was. It was a treat to see him relax in an easy chair after dinner,
puffing contentedly at the pipe that he never allowed out of his sight.
In the evening Frank and Joe besought him to tell again the story of
how he had been so basely cheated of his fortune in the West, and the
women listened entranced to the strange tale.
"Do you mean to tell me that that wicked man actually ran away with
all the gold you had worked for so hard?" exclaimed Aunt Gertrude
indignantly.
"Looks that way, ma'am!"
"The scoundrel! I just wish I had him here for a minute. I'd tell him a
few things!"
"I'd tell him a few things myself," said Wilson mildly. "Still, it was
a great many years ago and there's no use thinkin' about it now. The
gold's gone and I'm an old man."
"It's a shame!" said Mrs. Hardy.
"I guess I couldn't have been much use as a prospector, or I'd have
been able to hold on to what I got," observed Wilson. "I've come to the
conclusion that a man gets pretty much what he deserves in this world.
If he ain't smart enough to hold on to what he's got, he deserves to
lose it."
"Didn't you make anything out of your mining days at all?" put in Frank.
"Oh--a few dollars here and a few dollars there. Enough to keep me in
grub and with a place to sleep. Once in a while I'd make some extra
money, but it never lasted long somehow. I got a claim out in Montana
yet, so far as that goes."
"Is it worth anything?"
Jadbury Wilson shrugged and stroked his beard.
"Maybe worth much--maybe worth nothing," he said.
"Can't you find out?"
"I haven't got enough money to work the property. It's the only claim
I've been able to pay my dues on, all these years. But I kept payin'
'em, sort of hoping somethin' would turn up some day. I've always
thought it _should_ be a good claim. It's in a good location. But I've
never had enough money ahead to do any more work on it."
"Can't you get any one to finance you?" asked Joe.
"Not me," sighed the old man. "All through Montana I got the reputation
of bein' too unlucky. They're afraid to take a chance on me any more.
They say, 'Why, that's Jad Wilson's claim. Even if it is good, he's
always been so all-fired unlucky that we'll be bound to lose our
money!' So they pass it up."
"Never mind. Perhaps you'll come into your own some day," said Mrs.
Hardy comfortingly.
"It'll have to come mighty soon, then," replied the old man, with a wry
smile. "I've waited so long now that it seems I'll be dead and gone
before my luck starts to turn."
However, under the influence of the warm fire and the cheerful company
his natural optimism manifested itself and he was soon entertaining
his new-found friends with stories both humorous and tragic of his
adventures in the early days of the rough-and-ready mining camps of the
West.
"I'd love to go out there!" said Joe wistfully.
"It ain't all beer and skittles," said Jadbury Wilson. "There's quite a
bit of adventure, but there's a lot of rough livin' and mighty skimpy
eatin' at times. I've often seen the day when all my flour and beans
would be gone and the grocer wouldn't trust me for another nickel's
worth. And, of course, the West has changed a lot nowadays. It's got
mighty civilized, they tell me."
"Our father is out in Montana now," Frank remarked.
"You don't say! And whereabouts in Montana is he?"
"He's at a mining camp. It's a queer-sounding place called Lucky
Bottom."
Jad Wilson's eyes widened.
"Lucky Bottom!" he exclaimed. "Can you beat that?"
"Why?"
"Lucky Bottom is right near the place where Bart Dawson run away with
all our gold."
"Isn't that a strange coincidence!" ejaculated Mrs. Hardy.
"It shore is," agreed Jad Wilson. "Mighty strange. To think that he
should be in the very place where we lost our fortune. It's a small
world, ain't it?"
"What kind of place is Lucky Bottom?" asked Frank.
"It ain't very big. In the old days it was a real rough-and-ready
minin' camp, with dance-halls and saloons. Then, as the mines got
worked out and the miners went on up into the copper fields, the town
sort of dwindled away. It's a sort of ghost camp nowadays, I guess.
Nobody there but a couple of store-keepers and a few miners who keep
pluggin' away still hopin' to find some gold that somebody else has
missed."
Jadbury Wilson rubbed his eyes and smothered a yawn.
"You'll have to pardon me, ma'am," he said to Mrs. Hardy, "but I've
always been used to goin' to bed at dark and it ain't often I sit up so
late jawin'. If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in."
"'Early to bed and early to rise--,'" quoted Aunt Gertrude, with
approval.
"'Makes a man healthy and wealthy and wise,'" finished Jadbury Wilson,
with a wry smile. "Well, I been gettin' up early and goin' to bed early
all my life and it's never made me wealthy and I'm mighty sure I ain't
very wise. About all it's done is to make me healthy. You couldn't kill
me if you belted me over the head with a church."
He bade them good-night and went upstairs to bed. Aunt Gertrude
remarked that the Hardy boys would be well-advised to follow the old
man's example in the matter of early retirement, but they sat up for
almost an hour before the fire, talking over some of the yarns the old
miner had recounted.
"He sure had some great experiences," said Frank, before they went to
sleep that night.
"You bet he did. I wish we could get out there for a while."
"It probably wouldn't be the same now. He said the country has got
pretty tame."
"It can't be so tame when they have to call dad out there in their
gold-stealing cases. There must be some excitement left."
"Oh, well, there's not much chance of us getting out that far to find
out. Go to sleep."
But in the morning a surprise awaited them. When they came down to
breakfast they found Mrs. Hardy already at the table, perusing a yellow
sheet of paper.
"Telegram?" said Frank.
Mrs. Hardy nodded.
"It's from your father."
"Is he coming back?"
"Not yet. As a matter of fact, he wants you boys to go out to him at
once."
Frank and Joe looked at one another incredulously. The news seemed too
good to be true. Mrs. Hardy handed over the telegram.
It read:
"Please let Frank and Joe come to me at once. Will send special
word and instructions to Majestic Hotel, Chicago.
"Fenton Hardy."
"What on earth can this call mean?" exclaimed Frank, in complete
amazement.
"I can't understand it at all," admitted their mother. She was frankly
worried.
"I don't care whether I understand it or not," said Joe. "It means he
wants us to go out West, and that's enough for me. When can we start?"
"The telegram says 'at once,'" Mrs. Hardy remarked. "It seems very
strange. And so sudden, too. I wonder what on earth he can want you
for?"
"Perhaps he needs our help on that case he's working on," Frank
suggested.
Aunt Gertrude, who had hitherto taken no part in the discussion,
sniffed audibly.
The Hardy boys were so excited that they could hardly eat their
breakfast. All through the meal they jubilantly discussed details of
the proposed trip and when Mrs. Hardy, although admittedly worried at
the prospect of letting them go so far by themselves, agreed that they
might go immediately, as the telegram suggested, they flung themselves
into a feverish orgy of packing.
Jadbury Wilson was highly interested and gave them a number of
excellent suggestions as to what they should take with them on the trip.
"Lots of good, heavy underclothes and plenty of woolen socks," he said.
"You'll find it plenty colder out there than it is here."
The boys got their reservations on a train that would leave for Chicago
late that afternoon. Their packing occupied more time than they had
expected because they did not want to be burdened by too much luggage
and had a difficult time eliminating the nonessentials. At last,
however, they were ready. Aunt Gertrude, who had kept up a running
fire of instructions and admonitions concerning their conduct on the
journey, and who freely predicted disaster in the shape of train wrecks
and robbers, gave them her final instructions. Mrs. Hardy, who merely
kissed them good-bye and told them to write to her as soon as they
reached Chicago, called a taxi to take them to the station, and Jadbury
Wilson, warning them to be on the lookout for "them city slickers in
Chicago" and advising them not to talk to strangers, told them not to
worry inasmuch as he would look after their mother and Aunt Gertrude.
The taxi arrived. The luggage was tossed in. The boys scrambled into
the back seat. Aunt Gertrude shrieked "Good-bye" a dozen times and
sobbed audibly. Their mother waved a handkerchief. Jadbury Wilson
brandished his cane. Then, with a roar, the taxi sped down the street
and headed toward the station. Already the boys could hear the
long-drawn whistle of the train.
"Off for Montana!" exclaimed Frank.
"I'm afraid of only one thing," remarked his brother.
"What's that?"
"I'm afraid I'll wake up and find I've been dreaming."