THE CONTENTS OF THE PACKET
It was Reddy who laughed now. How could he help it, when viewing the
astonished face of Bob Archer, who was sitting there on the floor,
and dumping out the miscellaneous assortment of eatables that had
been contained in the sacks?
Frank knew that the solution to the mystery would lie with the man
who had engineered the theft. He had wondered at the disconsolate
appearance of both Reddy and Blaisdell while they were discussing
matters; finally agreeing to each take a bag, and get out on separate
trails.
Where was the treasure then, if they did not have it? Could it be
that, fearing capture, they had hidden the gold? Even Bob could see
that there was but a slight chance of this proving to be the truth.
Just then Bob happened to remember that, according to all accounts,
there had been a third member of the bold outfit. All along he and
Frank had rested under the delusion that Reddy and Blaisdell must
have left this man behind, after taking his share of the plunder.
“Say, perhaps the shoe was on the other foot, and he got theirs!”
exclaimed Bob, almost involuntarily.
At that Reddy chuckled again.
“I call that a good guess, now,” he remarked, nodding to Frank, and
winking his eye in the direction of the Kentucky lad.
Frank understood.
“Meaning that the third man beat you out of your shares; is that it,
Reddy?” he asked, as he stepped closer to the other.
“That’s just what he did!” growled the man known as Blaisdell, and
who appeared to be even more dissatisfied with the way matters had
turned out than the leader himself.
“There were three sacks in the beginning?” Frank went on, holding up
that number of fingers, as if to emphasize his point.
“Three—that’s right. Mr. Riley knows it’s so, don’t you Mr. Riley?”
the man with the fiery hair admitted.
“Just one apiece, eh? And somehow in the shuffle this third fellow
managed to hoodwink you two, so that he got away with the whole
business. Clever work to pull the wool over the eyes of such a smart
fellow as you’re said to be, Reddy Cramer!” Frank went on, thinking
he would hear the particulars sooner if only he could excite the
temper of the other.
“Aw! he just ketched us nappin’, that’s how it happened,” grumbled
Blaisdell, who seemed to feel so keenly the utter collapse of their
scheme that he was in a frame of mind to tell everything he knew.
And Reddy, seeing this evidence of turning state’s evidence on the
part of his comrade, was himself willing to confess.
“We thought he was true blue, but he fooled us, that’s how,” he
remarked.
“But it’s hard to believe that one man could carry away the whole
three bags of gold dust and nuggets,” remonstrated Frank. “Mr. Riley,
here, says they’d weigh something like two hundred pounds. How about
that, Reddy?”
“That’s all in the trick,” replied the other. “You see, it was this
way. When we got off, each of us had a bag along. But we expected to
have a warm time gettin’ away with the loot. And we had made up a
plan to deceive Riley and his crowd.”
“Yes,” broke in Blaisdell, bitterly, “an’ don’t forget to say right
there as how ’twas our smart pal that suggested that delightful
scheme, which you an’ me tumbled right into, never dreamin’ that he
had all the pipes laid to dock us, an’ leave us to hold the bag,
which didn’t have the gold in, but the grub. Aw! this knocks me out,
sure! Never kin look anybody in the face again after bein’ took in so
easy; so dead easy!”
“We cached the three bags, all right,” Reddy went on, “meaning to
come back for ’em after we’d put any pursuers on the wrong scent.
Then we started off to leave a broad trail behind, beginnin’ from the
strong room of the Cherry Blossom. Reckon as how ye must a seen that
trail, son?”
“We did for a fact, and started out on it, just as you expected,”
declared Frank; “when, by chance, we found a much newer trail
crossing the old, and made by two men instead of three. You, never
meant us to find that trail, because by following it we got you
sighted.”
“No more we did,” admitted Reddy. “But, the fact is, around that
time Blaisdell and me was so mad at being taken in like a pair of
tenderfeet by that traitor, that we just didn’t care much what came
along. We done our best to fix you with that broken cliff trail.
Then, when ye still follered, we started the blaze on the level; and
reckoned as how that had put you out of the running.”
“But it didn’t, as you understand now,” Frank went on, believing that
he was getting nearer the explanation of the matter.
“Yes, some fellers have the nine lives of a cat; and looks like you
boys might belong in that class,” sneered Blaisdell.
“Let’s go back a bit,” Frank observed. “Because we’re some interested
in this business, and want to get that stuff away from your friend.”
“Friend!” scoffed Reddy. “If ever I’m free again, and I run across
his tracks, he’ll sure wish he’d never been born. Nawthin’ ain’t too
tough for a fellow as’d betray his pals like he done; and after the
idea of the raise was all mine, too.”
“But tell ’em all they wanter know, Reddy,” broke in Blaisdell,
eagerly. “It’s goin’ to do me a heap of good if they kin lay hands on
that slick jay, and snatch the stuff away from him.”
“Well, ye see, we cached the stuff in the middle of a little
opening,” the disappointed one went on. “I ’member now how particular
he was to have it jest so; but at the time me an’ Blaisdell here
never thought he’d give us the double cross like, and sneak back to
get away with it all, which he did; the worse luck!”
“But you had horses, it seems,” remarked Frank; “how does it come
that you didn’t start in pursuit at once, and overtake your false
friend. With two hundred pounds added to the man’s weight, no horse
could hold out long. Do you mean to say you couldn’t follow his
trail?”
Reddy and his mate exchanged looks, and nodded ruefully.
“He didn’t leave no trail, son,” declared the former, with a shrug of
his shoulders that stood for more than his words, perhaps.
“He must have, unless he flew away!” declared Frank.
“Which I take it is jest what our slick Jared Scott done, son!”
remarked Reddy.
Bob uttered a cry. Up to that instant he had never dreamed to what
the talk was leading.
But Frank made no outcry. In fact, he showed positive signs of having
been entertaining a certain amount of suspicion regarding the truth.
A number of little things in the immediate past, especially when they
had caught some of the words passing between the two men just before
the attack, may have given him a clue.
Nevertheless, he looked wonderfully pleased, as though this
announcement concerning the identity of the third thief went far to
brush aside some of the mystery.
“Jared Scott!” he repeated, after Reddy.
“Yes, that’s the sneak who fooled us,” replied the other, with
bitterness in his voice.
“He had a balloon—did you know that?” demanded Frank.
“Naw he didn’t—then. Found it, arter he give us the slip, and hurried
back to where we cached the stuff. He told us he had a hoss hid
somewhere near by, an’ had rid in from Phoenix. That wasn’t so. I
knowed that Jared Scott had been helpin’ one of these here fliers as
gives exhibitions at fairs. Reckon as how he just run away with the
old gas-bag, an’ had her hid in the hills awaitin’ his chance to get
away with our treasure.”
“How did you find out that he had a balloon?” asked Frank.
“Why,” explained Reddy, with a sickly grin; “after he piled the three
sacks of gold aboard he had to drop off all his bags of ballast, and
we seen ’em there in the open place. There was other evidences too,
that made us mad. But what could we do? No use tryin’ to chase a
balloon, son. And by that time we reckoned that Mr. Riley’d be on the
hunt. So we picks up our hosses, and runs. The rest ye knows.”
It was all very plain to Frank now; and to Bob as well. The latter
had not been able to say a word while this interesting conversation
was going on between his chum and the leader of the gold thieves.
But now that the story had all been told, Bob began to “get back to
earth” again.
“Well, if that don’t beat everything!” he exclaimed. “Just to think,
Frank, we actually saved Jared Scott, when his balloon was running
away from him, after something happened to make it unmanageable. But
Frank, I looked in the broken basket, and there wasn’t a single bag
of ballast, or anything else there!”
“No,” said Frank, with a broad smile beginning to cover his boyish
face; “because Mr. Jared Scott had been compelled to heave the three
bags of gold overboard, one at a time, perhaps, to try and lighten
his falling air craft, which was threatening to dump him out on the
ground from loss of gas!”
“Frank, do you really believe that?” cried Bob.
“I certainly do,” answered the other, who knew it could not be
otherwise.
“He dropped the gold ballast to save his life; but, Frank, do you
think a man like Jared Scott would ever want to lose track of such a
prize?” Bob went on.
“Make your mind easy on that score,” broke in Reddy, who had been
listening to this talk. “Jared always had an eye to the main chance;
an’ even if his life was hanging by a thread, he’d never throw a bag
of the real stuff overboard, but what he’d mark the spot where it
fell!”
Bob Archer’s excitement grew stronger than ever. He caught hold of
his chum by the arm, and Frank could see how the Kentucky boy was
trembling.
“Frank, what about that packet he gave you?” he demanded.
“Oh! I’ve got it safe still; and here it is,” replied the other, as
he ran one hand inside his jacket, and produced the envelope into
which Jared Scott had slipped the paper on which he had written
something, at the time he was leaving them to seek the services of a
doctor down the river.
“Frank, we saved his life, he said!” Bob continued.
“Perhaps we did; and again he might have got out of that pickle
without any help from us. It was a toss-up,” Frank replied, smiling
at his chum’s eagerness.
“But just then he was feeling mighty grateful to us, Frank. I saw
how he started, and looked at you, when he heard your name. And I
wouldn’t be one bit surprised if what he wrote down on that paper
turned out to be directions, telling us where to locate the three
stolen bags of gold!”
“It may be you are right, Bob,” Frank said, thoughtfully, as he
looked at the packet in his hand; “but you remember I gave him my
solemn promise that I wouldn’t open this envelope until seven days
had passed; and there’s some time yet before then.”
“Yes, _you_ promised him,” said Bob, “but _I_ didn’t say a word!”
With that he snatched the envelope from the hand of his chum, and
tore the end off, as though he feared that Frank might try and stop
him. But Frank evidently had no such intention just then. Perhaps he
realized how conditions had arisen that changed the complexion of
things very much. Jared Scott, an honest aeronaut, and Jared Scott,
the accomplice of the gold thieves, were two different persons. And
a promise made under such deception might not hold.
Bob was eagerly reading what the man had written. To do this he had
to bend down to the lantern. Frank, and all the others in the room,
watched him intently, eager to know the import of the message.
When Bob finished the short contents of Jared Scott’s mysterious
note, he leaped up, and clutched Frank’s hands.
“It’s all right, Frank!” he exclaimed. “Just what I said, he wanted
us to recover the treasure, because he feared he’d never get over
his injuries. And he’s set it all down here in black and white, just
where he dropped each bag when almost touching the earth. We can’t
help but find ’em, Frank! Whoop! what luck! I feel like I could
screech like a Navajo Indian in the war dance,” and Bob did actually
start to hop around the shack, as though unable to control himself.