OVER THE CLIFF
“Well, fellows, what do you think of dad’s new car?” asked Bob of his
chums, when they had finished the ride and were sitting idly in the
machine before dispersing to their several homes.
“Great!” declared Ned. “I wouldn’t mind owning it myself.”
“You got something off your chest that time,” chuckled Jerry. “Those
brakes are a whole lot better than I imagined they could be.”
“They’re all right when you get used to ’em,” agreed Bob, as he felt in
one pocket after another.
“What you looking for?” asked Ned. “Lose something?”
“I thought I had another doughnut left,” answered the stout lad, with a
sigh. “But I guess we ate ’em all up. Never mind.”
“You guess _we_ ate ’em all up!” cried Jerry. “You mean _you_ did!”
For a moment neither of the others spoke, and then Jerry continued:
“I think we ought to take up with Tinny’s offer, if it looks at all
encouraging when we get an answer to our telegram. We may not get to
be millionaires out of the gold mine, but at least it will give us
something to do. And I just can’t settle down to work so soon after the
big fight.”
“That’s the way I feel about it,” added Ned. “I had a little talk with
dad, and while he wants me to come in the store and learn the business,
I’m sure he’ll let me have this summer off. We really need it after
what we’ve gone through.”
“Sure we do!” asserted Bob. “I guess dad will listen to reason when I
tell him I’ve lost about ten pounds.”
“Yes, you have!” scoffed Jerry with a laugh.
“Sure I have!” declared Chunky. “Anyhow, let’s see if we can’t plan it
to get a Western trip.”
“Suits me,” said Ned. “I wonder if, by any chance, we could have a shot
looking for that lost treasure chest of Blue Rock?” he went on.
“Maybe,” said Jerry. “But it’s a pretty long chance, seems to me. If
what Bill Cromley says is true there isn’t much hope in trying to
locate it after all these years, when so many have failed.”
“Well, then, let’s hope that Tinny’s mine will pan out better,”
remarked Bob. “What you fellows going to do to-night?” he asked.
“There’s going to be a moon,” said Jerry. “If you want to take us out
in the new car----”
“Nothing doing, _pos-i-tive-ly_!” exclaimed the fat lad. “Dad is going
to take mother out. But there’s a pretty good movie in town. We might
take that in, and then go down to the telegraph office afterward and
see if any word has come from Tinny.”
“Good idea--we’ll do it!” decided Jerry, and the rest agreed.
It was rather hard to get interested in even a very good moving picture
when the minds of the Motor Boys were so filled with visions of what
might happen if they could make the Western trip. Of course nothing was
definitely settled about this as yet. The matter had been broached to
the respective parents soon after Jerry had received the letter from
the Western miner, but at first only indifference was manifested by
Mrs. Hopkins, Mr. Slade and Mr. Baker.
So it was with no little impatience that the young men waited for the
flashing of the last picture on the screen, after which they hurried
down to the telegraph office, where they had telephoned word to hold
any message that might come for them from the West.
“Nothing doing, boys,” were the words the operator greeted them with as
they entered.
“Guess Tinny has cold feet,” remarked Ned.
“Wait a minute; something’s coming in now,” the operator said, holding
up his hand for silence. He listened a moment to the clicking of the
ticker and then in a low voice said: “Yes, this is for you, Jerry. I’ll
have it ready for you shortly.”
The boys sat down to wait, the silence broken only by the click of the
telegraph sounder and the tap of the typewriter keys as the operator
transcribed the message. It was a long one, and when Jerry read it to
his chums they let out whoops of delight.
Not only did Tinny Mallison assert that there was every chance of his
gold mine at Thunder Mountain proving a big winner, but he strongly
urged the boys to hasten out to share in the good prospects. He added
that he would send letters to their parents giving them every assurance
that it would pay the boys financially and in added health to come out
to Montana.
“This settles it!” declared Jerry. “We’ll go!”
“You said it!” chorused Ned and Bob.
A few days later, following the receipt of other telegrams from
Mallison, the consent of the parents was won and the Motor Boys began
preparations to leave for Thunder Mountain.
“I wish we could go all the way by auto,” said Jerry, when he and
his chums were at his house one afternoon, talking over plans, “but
I reckon it’s too much. My old boat wouldn’t stand the strain. But
we can go part way by car--I’m going to sell mine, anyhow--and take a
train the rest of the way.”
It being out of the question to use Mr. Baker’s new machine for
the trip, a compromise had to be made, and Jerry’s old, but still
serviceable, auto had been selected. As he said, they could sell it
when reaching Chicago, or wherever they decided to take the train.
The matter of what they would carry with them was easily settled, as
it was not the first trip the lads had made across country, and their
experience in France was standing them in good stead.
Letters had been sent to Tinny, in answer to some received by him, and
it only remained now to make the last preparations and then start for
Thunder Mountain.
“And I hope we find it solid gold!” murmured Bob.
“You don’t want much!” laughed Jerry. “What’s up--see something?” he
asked Ned, who had suddenly risen from his chair and was gazing from
the window.
“Yes, I see something, or, rather, somebody,” murmured the department
storekeeper’s son. “I wonder if I’m seeing right, though. Come here,
fellows, and see if you see the same thing I do!”
He pointed toward the figure of a small man hurrying along past Jerry’s
house.
“Isn’t that Professor Snodgrass?” demanded Ned.
“It sure is!” cried Jerry.
“What in the world is he doing here?” Bob wanted to know.
“What does he ever do but chase bugs?” inquired Jerry. “That’s probably
what he’s doing now, and he’s so interested that he forgot to stop
here. Very likely he started out to pay me a visit and it has slipped
his mind.”
“We’d better go after him,” suggested Ned, “or he’ll keep on traveling
until he wears his shoes out. Come on!”
The lads hurried out of Jerry’s house, and started after the odd,
little scientist who had been their instructor at Boxwood Hall. But
Professor Snodgrass made such good time that he was around the corner
and in a side lane before the boys were within hailing distance.
“There he goes!” cried Bob.
“And on the run, too!” added Ned. “He must be after a six cylinder June
bug.”
Indeed, Professor Snodgrass was fairly running now, and it could not
be doubted, from what the boys knew of him, that he was after some
creature to add to his collection of strange bugs.
Suddenly the little man, as if in pursuit of a flying object, turned
quickly to the left, and, as he did so, Ned cried:
“He’d better watch out! That path leads to the edge of the cliff where
they’ve been taking out gravel above Limestone Creek. There’s a sharp
fall there, and there was a slide there last week. It’s dangerous!”
“We’d better call to him,” suggested Jerry. “Hi, there, Professor
Snodgrass!” he shouted, making a megaphone of his hands. “Come back!
Don’t go any farther!”
The boys redoubled their speed after Ned’s warning and, making a turn
in the path, came in view of the little man. All unconscious of his
danger, he was running straight ahead, his hat held out as though to
catch a butterfly.
“Come back! Come back!” cried the Motor Boys.
But the professor, unheeding, ran on, and an instant later had fallen,
disappearing over the edge of a cliff.
“He’s gone!” gasped Bob.
“Come on! Maybe we can save him!” shouted Jerry.