ON THE TRAIL OF THE MISSING
"Have the train draw up here and wait for us," Sheriff Ford directed, as
the trainmen were about to return to their train after the bandits had
finally been driven off. "Those ruffians have had enough, and won't come
back. Some of them are wounded, too."
"Aren't you coming with us?" asked a trainman.
"No. I'm going to look for Lieutenant Wingate. He may be on the train,
but, if he is not, have the engineer give us three whistles."
"Hippy wouldn't go back without us," declared Tom Gray with emphasis.
"Go back to your train, men, while we look for our friend," urged
Sheriff Ford.
The train crew lost no time in following Ford's advice, being eager to
get away from that locality. Stacy Brown was sent back with them to put
on his clothes. Stacy was shivering in his pajamas, but the fat boy had
done his duty as steadily as any of his companions, and fully proven his
courage, thus winning the admiration of Sheriff Ford and Tom Gray. The
two other volunteer passengers, one a salesman for a Chicago grocery
house, the other a Colorado ranchman, announced their intention of
remaining with the sheriff to assist him in his search.
Shortly after the departure of the trainmen, three long blasts of the
locomotive whistle told the party that Lieutenant Wingate had not
returned to the train.
"That settles it, men. It is up to us to get to work," declared the
sheriff. Ford divided his forces and sent parties in various directions
to search for the missing Hippy Wingate, hoping, and partly believing,
that the lieutenant had probably met up with the bandits on their
retreat into the mountains after abandoning their attack on the train,
and secreted himself somewhere in the vicinity of the attempted hold-up.
The Overlanders were now in the Sierras, and the country all about them
was wild and uninhabited. After surveying his surroundings with critical
eyes, Ford took to the ravine up which Hippy had gone in attempting to
get back to his companions, and soon found the place where the bandits
had staked down their horses.
Two warning whistles, the engineer's regular signal that the train was
about to start ahead, caused the sheriff to run down the ravine to the
railroad, at the same time firing three shots to recall his companions.
"Get aboard in a hurry!" shouted the conductor, leaning from the engine
cab as the train came back to the scene of the attempted robbery.
"Wait! Has Lieutenant Wingate returned?" demanded Ford.
"No!" shouted Stacy Brown from the platform of the smoking car. "Didn't
you find him?"
"Are you positive, Stacy?" called Tom Gray, running up at this juncture.
"He is not on the train, Tom," answered Grace Harlowe from a vestibule
doorway. "The engineer said he dropped off just as the engine began
backing down. Tom, you must search for Hippy. Nora is nearly wild from
worry over him."
"We are going to find him, little woman," answered Captain Gray.
"Are you folks going to get aboard?" demanded the conductor insistently.
"No. We're not going to leave that man here by a long shot," retorted
Ford.
"All right. Stay if you want to. We're going ahead," snapped the
conductor.
"Stop!" ordered the sheriff. "You hold this train until I give you leave
to move it. I am an officer of the law, and in command here for the
present. Captain Gray, what do you wish to do?"
"Find the lieutenant, Sheriff."
"Then, would it not be a good idea to unload your ponies?" asked Ford.
"We may have to be here until tomorrow, and perhaps make a long journey
into the interior, which we cannot well do on foot."
"Yes. We will unload enough animals to carry your party," answered Tom.
"Pull your train up to the mouth of the ravine and stop," commanded
Ford, clambering aboard the locomotive. "Get aboard there, boys."
The train promptly pulled ahead while the sheriff had his final argument
with the conductor in the locomotive cab. The argument was brief, but
heated, the sheriff laying down the law to the angry conductor, who, by
the time his train had reached the mouth of the ravine, was wholly
subdued.
The Overland Riders stepped off the train to watch the unloading of the
ponies and to get instructions from Tom and Mr. Ford.
"We are about twenty-five miles from Gardner," said the sheriff,
addressing Grace. "You people, I believe, intend to detrain there. Have
someone unload your stock and then wait until we return. You will find a
very fair little hotel at Gardner."
"We will wait," answered Grace composedly.
Ford called upon the train crew to assist in unloading the ponies.
Unloading boards were obtained from the baggage car with which a rather
substantial gangway was constructed, and down it the light-footed
ponies--five of them--were led without the least difficulty. Rifles and
light equipment for the party were unloaded, the rest of the
Overlanders' property and two ponies being left on the train.
While the unloading was in progress Tom Gray went to the dining car and
purchased provisions, consisting of canned goods, pork and beans and a
side of bacon. Stacy Brown, who had gone back to the sleeping car for
something he wanted from his suitcase, dropped in while Tom was
bartering, and helped his companion carry back their purchases. By the
time they reached the head of the train all was in readiness for the
departure.
Ford waved the lantern that he had borrowed from the conductor.
"Go ahead," he called to the conductor. "Mrs. Gray, don't forget to
report to Gardner what has become of us. If we are not back in two days
have them send a posse for us."
"I understand," answered Grace Harlowe.
"I say, you! You might have Emma do a little transmigrating for us while
we're away. I reckon we'll be needing it," called back Stacy.
As the train pulled out, the passengers, including the girls of the
Overland party, were gathered on the platforms cheering. The searching
party now consisted, besides Sheriff Ford, of Tom Gray, Stacy Brown and
the two passengers who had been with them from the first, making five in
all.
"Now, sir, what is your plan?" demanded Tom after they had saddled and
made ready to start.
"I think we will follow up the ravine for a little way," answered the
sheriff. "Your man went this way. I know because the fireman saw him
take to the ravine. One of you lead my horse; I'm going ahead on foot
with the lantern."
"If you have no objection, I will go with you," offered Tom.
Ford nodded, and the two started away, the others, on the ponies,
keeping well to the rear.
The two men in advance finally reached the point in the ravine where
Lieutenant Wingate had been struck down. With lantern held close to the
ground, the sheriff went over it on hands and knees, examining every
foot of the ground.
"Stand where you are until I come back," he directed, addressing Tom
Gray. "Do you recognize this?" he asked, holding up a hat, upon his
return a few moments later.
"It is the lieutenant's hat," answered Tom promptly, and Stacy Brown
agreed with him.
"What's the use of a hat without a head to wear it?" demanded Stacy.
"This!" replied Ford. "I have proved one thing. Our man came this way,
but beyond this point the only trace of him is the hat. Unless I am much
mistaken, he left here on the back of a horse, and he went that way."
The sheriff pointed up the ravine. "It is fair to assume that he did not
go voluntarily. The only inference possible, then, is that he has been
taken."
"Captured by the bandits!" exclaimed Tom.
Ford nodded.
"For what reason?"
"Candidly, I don't know, Captain. We have got to find out, and it is
advisable for us to go in search of the answer to that question as fast
as we can. We will mount and move on."
"I suppose I am the one who will have to furnish the brains for this
party and find the missing man," declared Stacy pompously, but no one
laughed at his sally.
A minute later they were mounted and on their way up the ravine, the
sheriff still carrying the lantern, which he held low, keeping his gaze
constantly on the trail, which still was fairly plain and easy for an
experienced man to follow. Stacy dropped behind a little way and
produced a plum pudding can from his pocket. Opening the can, he calmly
proceeded to eat the pudding.
"What's that you're eating?" demanded one of the two passengers.
"Pudding. A plum one."
"Where did you get it?"
"Oh, back there in the diner," answered Stacy carelessly.
"You stole a pudding, eh?" laughed the questioner.
"Oh, my; no, sir. How could you think such a thing? Don't you know I
wouldn't do anything like that?"
"Oh! You paid for it," nodded the passenger.
"I did not. Captain Gray did. You see it was this way. The captain paid
for six cans of baked beans, but they gave him only five cans. The
colored gentleman in the diner cheated us out of one can, and probably
pocketed the difference, so I sort of helped myself to a pudding to even
things up."
"Humph! You are a young man of unusual ability. You should have been a
lawyer."
"I know it," admitted Chunky.
An exclamation from Ford interrupted the conversation. The sheriff had
picked up a handkerchief which Tom thought belonged to Hippy Wingate.
They believed that the lieutenant had dropped it purposely, knowing full
well that pursuit would follow promptly when his friends discovered that
he was missing.
"We are on the trail all right," cried the sheriff. "Look sharp and
don't make much noise about it, either."
Daybreak found the outfit still in the saddle. Now that they could see,
Ford threw away the lantern, and, after watering their ponies at a
mountain spring, they pressed on with all speed. The men ate a cold
breakfast in the saddle, there being no time to waste in halting to cook
breakfast. Further, the smoke from a camp-fire would be a danger signal
to the men for whom they were searching.
About nine o'clock in the morning the sheriff and Tom found a
split-trail. The two trails led up a steep incline to a small plateau.
There they discovered the remains of a camp-fire. Ford dismounted and
ran his fingers through the ashes.
"There has been a fire here within a few hours," he announced.
"And the trail has gone to pieces," added Stacy Brown who had got down
from his pony and begun nosing about.
"The bandits have taken different directions from here, haven't they?"
questioned the sheriff, glancing up.
"Yes. I'll tell you what let's do. Let's shut our eyes and let the
ponies decide which trail to take," suggested Chunky gravely. "My
Bismarck can follow the trail of a squirrel."
"This is not a squirrel trail," answered Ford briefly. "There are five
of us men here. Four will take separate trails while one remains here.
Let each man follow his trail for, say, three hours, then, whether or
not he has discovered anything, he will return to this point. We can
then decide upon further action."
"I have an idea that the bandits discovered that they were being
followed," suggested one of the two passengers. "Otherwise, why should
they split up and take different trails?"
"Yes. I agree with you," nodded the sheriff. Mr. Ford decided that one
of the passenger volunteers should remain behind, then assigned the
other passenger and Tom, Stacy and himself to follow the bandits'
trails, Ford selecting what seemed to be the most promising trail for
himself.
Full understanding of what each one was to do was had, then the four
rode away, leaving their guard where he could see, yet remain hidden.
The four trails led on for five miles without a break. Stacy, full of
importance because of the duty assigned to him, was watching his trail
closely, and, had he been less observant, he might have missed the point
where the trail again split. Discovering this, he halted and sat
regarding the two trails with solemn eyes.
"Sharp trick," he nodded. "It doesn't fool Stacy Brown, though." He
decided that the left-hand trail swung over towards the one that Tom
Gray was riding, perhaps joining it a short distance from the junction
where Stacy was at that moment. Having come to this conclusion, the fat
boy had a bright idea. He would take a short cut across country. He knew
that this was a risky thing to do, but he had several mountain peaks for
landmarks and did not believe that he could go astray, so he started
full of confidence, leaving both trails behind him.
An hour-and-a-half passed. Stacy still had thirty minutes to ride before
it would be time for him to turn back towards the starting point, as he
learned by consulting his watch, and he decided to make the most of
those thirty minutes.
"There! Didn't I tell you?" he cried as he rode out into an open space
and instantly discovered the hoof-prints of several horses on the soft
ground. "I was positive that I couldn't be wrong. My time is up, but I
have found the spot where the rascals got together. Now I'll just turn
about and follow it home. This is the trail we must follow to find Uncle
Hip. Yes, I'll go back and report."
Stacy Brown's intentions were good, and, well satisfied with what he had
accomplished, he rode along humming softly to himself, now and then
confiding his opinions to his pony. The little animal wiggled its ears
as if it understood.
"Hulloa! There goes the sun. Seven o'clock! Who would have thought it?
According to my watch I've been back at the forks for a quarter of an
hour. I wonder if I really have?" Stacy regarded his surroundings
narrowly. "No. I never saw any of you mountain-peak fellows before. I
must have made a mistake in my reckonings, but I've got a biscuit in my
pocket, and we'll be able to go quite a distance on one biscuit,
especially on this kind of a biscuit. Some biscuits go a great deal
farther than others. This is one of the farther kind," finished Chunky,
performing a series of contortions as he tried to break off a piece of
biscuit with his teeth.
The pony was laboring up a steep incline, the stirrup straps creaking in
rhythm with the animal's quick, short steps, Stacy's body, from the belt
up, bobbing upwards and backwards with monotonous regularity. The reins
lay over the saddle pommel, thus giving the pony's head full play and
enabling it to snatch a mouthful of greens here and there.
Suddenly the little animal threw its head up and snorted. Stacy Brown
ceased munching and sat staring wide-eyed.
"Suffering cats! You're IT, Stacy Brown!" he gasped.
Jerking his rifle from the saddle-boot he fired three quick shots over
the head of his pony.