BAD NEWS
"Say it sure is lonesome; isn't it?"
"No mistake about it. If this isn't the jumping-off place, it's next
door to it."
"I'd hate to be caught here without water or a means of getting away."
Thus, in turn, Dick, Paul and Innis expressed themselves as they sat in
the big car, panting and uncomfortable from the heat of a summer day,
making a pretense of eating. It was almost too warm for that, however.
"Well, there's one consolation, we can leave whenever we like," remarked
Dick. "I'll start whenever you fellows say so."
"Well, let's get a move on," suggested Paul. "There's a little breeze
when we're in motion, but there isn't any now."
They put away the remains of the meal and were soon moving over the
great salt desert of Utah, it being their second day on it. They had
been delayed by a slight accident or they would have made better time
across it.
However, they did not regret the time spent, for it was a new and
wonderful experience for them, and one they would long remember.
The big car, aside from the slight break which Dick and his chums had
been able to mend themselves, was behaving to perfection. In it they
could cross with ease and comparative comfort this terrible stretch of
country, where many of the early settlers had given up their lives.
Dick had taken the precaution to put on, over the big cushion tires, a
sort of steel-studded leather shoe, which gave a larger surface, so that
the wheels would not sink down so far in the sand, for the _Last Word_
was of no light weight.
In addition, strips of canvas were carried so that when they came to a
particularly sandy place these strips could be laid down, like boards
across a mud puddle, and the auto sent over them, turn and turn about.
Of course that would be slow progress, but it was better than stalling.
They saw little of other travelers. Occasionally a mule team would be
observed, and now and then they came in sight of the railroad, and
watched a train dash along it. But, in the main, they picked out their
own route, having learned in Salt Lake City of the one most available
for autos.
At no time were they very far from the railroad line, but they did not
follow it too closely. For, as Dick said, "What was the use of coming
out on a tour if you kept in touch with civilization all the while?"
So they broke their own trail as far as was practicable, and enjoyed the
experience. Water--for themselves and the car--was their main worry,
but they had a goodly supply with them. To drink Dick had provided
several large vacuum bottles of ice-cold lemonade, and, though of course
the frigid temperature could not be retained indefinitely, the liquid
was still quite cool and refreshing after several hours of bottling.
"Well, this sure has been a great experience for us," declared Paul, as
the big car moved off over the desert.
"I should say yes," agreed Dick. "I wouldn't have missed it for a farm."
"Not even with all the trouble Uncle Ezra made?" asked Innis.
"No, even with that. But he hasn't bothered us lately," said our hero,
patting Grit, who sat on the seat beside him, Paul driving the car for a
change.
"I guess he's lost track of us," suggested Innis. "We haven't had a
sight of any of his pesky men since that encounter in the dark."
"No," assented Dick, "but you never can tell where he will crop up. He
may be laying low for us. Though I don't expect there'll be any more
fighting until it comes time to file those papers. Then he may try to
block me in a legal way."
"What can you do?" asked Paul.
"I don't know, until the time comes. Dad told me to wire him in case of
trouble, and ask his advice. Maybe I'll have to depend somewhat on Mr.
Ainslie, the California lawyer."
"Say, it seems to me you're going to a lot of trouble to save a fortune
for a fellow you don't know very well, and who doesn't seem to take much
interest in it himself," observed Innis.
"Who, Wardell?" asked Dick.
"Sure. That's who I mean."
"You don't understand," said the young millionaire, softly. "In the
first place, Mr. Wardell would make the biggest kind of a fight for
himself, if he were here. But I think he's doing the right thing, to try
to start life over again, for there's nothing sure about saving his
fortune for him. The courts may decide against him at the last minute.
But there's a chance in his favor, and I'm taking it for him.
"Some day Mr. Wardell is going to know that it's my uncle who played him
this trick, but if he knows that I did my best to offset it, why, that's
going to square it; isn't it?"
"I suppose so," agreed Innis.
"And Wardell is a mighty fine chap," went on Dick. "Of course that day
when Paul and I saw him on the railroad bank he had sort of lost his
nerve. You can't blame him for that. I'm not a bit sorry over what I'm
trying to do for him."
"Oh, no, of course not. Only it's a lot of trouble for a stranger."
"Well, I'm not doing it altogether for him," said Dick. "I'm thinking
of the honor of our family. I wouldn't want it said that any of my
relatives ruined a man, even if it was legal."
"Good for you!" cried Paul. "Say, the trail is leading us back toward
the railroad, I think."
"Yes, it does come near the line about here," agreed Dick, as he
consulted a map. "So much the better. We may strike a water tank. Our
supply isn't any too large."
The big car slowly made its way over the desert. They were not trying
for any speed, since the clinging sand made progress difficult, and they
did not want to put too much of a strain on the wheels and motor.
It seemed to get hotter as they proceeded, though the breeze of the
electric fan in the car was grateful. But even the air in motion seemed
to come out of some oven, laden with the smell of baking earth.
"Whew!" exclaimed Paul, when they had gone on about a mile further, and
had come in sight of the railroad. "Take her a while, Innis. My hands
are tired from trying to hold the wheel steady. She wabbles a lot."
"I'll guide," said Dick.
"No, let me," urged his other chum, so he was given charge.
The _Last Word_ ran along well, and they were beginning to think of
looking for a good location to spend the night, since it was evident
that they would need another day to cross the desert.
Suddenly Dick, who had been looking ahead, uttered an exclamation, and
made a grab for the gasoline lever.
"Stop her!" he cried to Innis. But it was too late. The car sank down
several inches into a particularly soft and yielding stretch of sand.
"Wow!" cried Innis, as he saw into what he had steered.
"Never mind," consoled Dick. "It couldn't be helped. I didn't see it in
time. I guess we'll have to use the canvas strips to cross this stretch.
It's as wide as all get-out, and we might get into something worse if we
tried to go around it. Come on, fellows; get busy!"
They leaped out, taking light wooden shovels from the back of the auto,
where they had been fastened on purpose to be used on the desert sand.
Then the canvas strips were brought into use, Paul and Innis stretching
them in front of the wheels, while Dick drove the car over them.
The broad surface of the sail cloth, coupled with the wide tires, served
to keep the machine from settling much, but their progress was slow, and
after an hour or so of it Dick announced:
"Let's give up until morning. I'm dead tired, and it's too hot to work
any more. We'll just camp here, have grub, and go to sleep. There's
going to be a moon, and when it comes up we can work in the cool of the
night."
"That's the ticket!" exclaimed Innis. "Though don't stop on my
account," he urged. "I got you into this hole, and I'll help to get you
out."
"You didn't get us in at all," declared Dick. "I'd have run into this
soft stretch as soon as you. Knock off and we'll eat."
The rest was welcome. As the sun began to set they looked over toward
the distant railroad, the rails of which could be seen glittering in the
fading light. Something not far off stirred in a faint breeze.
"What's that?" asked Paul.
"Part of a newspaper," said Dick, as he caught sight of it. "Probably
some passenger tossed it out of a car window. I'm going to have a look
at it. Maybe it isn't more than a month old, and there'll be something
in it to read. The next time I come touring I'm going to bring along
part of a library."
He strolled toward the fragment of paper, which was held down by a
little mound of shifting sand. Paul and Innis were getting the meal
ready. Suddenly they were startled by a cry from Dick. He was staring at
the paper.
"What's the matter?" asked Paul.
"Matter, fellows! Look here! If this isn't bad news I don't know what
is."
"Somebody dead you know?" inquired Innis.
"No, but this paper is only two days old. It must have been tossed away
to-day. And it's got something in it about that railroad in which
Wardell's fortune is tied up."
"What is it?" demanded Paul.
"Why, it says that a new turn has been given the fight for the control
of the stock. Instead of waiting until September to settle the case,
it's going to be forced to a settlement now. New information has been
given that puts an entirely different light on matters, and certain
Eastern interests are said to be going to gobble up the whole outfit.
"Fellows, I can see Uncle Ezra's hand in this. He's found out he can't
get those papers away from me, and he's going to make them of no use by
hurrying this game to a finish before I have time to get to 'Frisco!"
"How's that?" asked Paul.
"Why, the whole thing, according to this paper, is scheduled to be
settled a week from to-day."
"You can get to 'Frisco before then!" exclaimed Innis.
"Yes, I know I can, but what good will it do me? I can't file these
papers before the date set. You see they've stolen a march on us. Uncle
Ezra has had his lawyers act and they've brought matters to a head
sooner than was expected.
"These legal papers I have are useless after all our work in saving
them, and Wardell's fortune will be lost! Hang it all! Did you ever see
such bad luck?" and Dick vigorously shook the newspaper he had picked up
on the desert.