ON TO 'FRISCO
The young millionaire started for the auto that was stalled in the sand.
He intended to get from it the bundle of legal papers and prove to Mr.
Cameron the statement just made about misrepresentation. But before he
reached the _Last Word_ he heard the sound of some one coming toward the
fire. And out of the desert darkness a voice hailed, saying:
"Hello there, Mr. Cameron! We were looking all over for you."
"I'm here," said the young man, quickly. "Enjoying myself. Won't you
come up and meet my new friends?" Then to Paul, who sat near him, he
said in low tones:
"My guards--as I call them! Say nothing of this, and warn young
Hamilton. I will see you to-morrow."
"Wait a minute, Dick!" called Paul, as he glided off in the gloom toward
the car which Dick was approaching.
"We thought you were lost," went on one of the two men who had come up.
"Lost in the desert, Mr. Cameron."
"Oh, no," he answered, lightly. "I was just strolling along, and I came
to the concert."
"Concert!" exclaimed the other man. "Is that another of your jokes?"
from which it would appear that Mr. Cameron was in the habit of
indulging in persiflage.
"Not at all," was the answer. "Boys, will you start up the phonograph
again for my friends?"
"Phonograph--out here in this desert!" exclaimed one of the two
newcomers. "Say, that sounds like 'Frisco. Can you give us some
ragtime?"
"We haven't a very choice selection of records," spoke Innis, Paul and
Dick being engaged in a whispered conversation near the car. "I'll play
what we've got," and he started toward the car. "I'll have to get
another record from the the machine," he added.
"Machine!" exclaimed one of the men. "Have you an auto here, too?"
"A big car," said Mr. Cameron. "It could swallow our modest
six-cylinder, from the looks of it."
"Oh, then you also came in an auto?" asked Dick of the engineer, who,
with Paul, had come back to the fire.
"Yes, I believe I forgot to mention that," said Mr. Cameron. "We escaped
into the desert in a gasoline chariot, unlike the Children of Israel,
who walked."
"Mr. Cameron!" exclaimed one of the men, "I--ahem--I hope you'll excuse
me mentioning it, but you know you promised not to do too much talking.
It was the agreement----"
"There are agreements--and agreements," said the young engineer, with
peculiar emphasis. "You need have no fear of me, Sam Martin. And, while
I am about it, let me present to you my new friends. Boys, these are Sam
Martin and Bill Wickford, my--er--my camp-mates," and he named the three
chums in turn.
"Pleased to see you," said Sam, with a jerky bow. "Mr. Cameron is
camping out here for--er--for his health. Bill and I are running things
for him. It's no fun to be in the desert alone."
"That's right," chimed in Bill. "Have you got any ragtime?" he asked, as
Innis came back with a record.
Then the phonograph was played again, sounding strangely in that lonely
desert. Mr. Cameron seemed at his ease, but the two men were plainly
nervous, and Dick was much excited, though he tried not to show it. He
had heard what Paul said, and refrained from bringing out any of the
papers.
"That's fine!" exclaimed Bill Wickford, as the tune came to an end. "I
wish we had one of those at our camp."
"It might interfere with the seven-up tournament," observed Mr. Cameron,
drily.
"Oh, we'd have time for that," said Sam. "But I guess we'd better be
getting back. It's late."
"Don't be in a hurry," urged Dick, hospitably.
"Well, we may be over to see you again. We didn't know we had any
neighbors so close by."
"You might come over and see us," added Bill, somewhat awkwardly. "We
can't offer you much in the way of entertainment, but we'll do our
best."
"Thanks," answered Dick. "We may come, but we're going to pull out of
this to-morrow, I hope. As soon as we can get out of this sand bog we'll
travel."
"We struck one of those places," volunteered Sam, "and we had quite a
time of it. Well, so-long," and he and his companion seemed to hover
around Mr. Cameron as though they were afraid he would let out something
of the secret that had already been told, had they only known it.
Good-nights were said, and the three disappeared in the darkness. The
chums stood for a moment silent about their dying camp fire.
"Well, what do you know about that?" asked Paul.
"It's a queer go," assented Innis.
"Those men are just like guards," said Dick. "Uncle Ezra, or his agents,
must be afraid Mr. Cameron will go back on his promise."
"If it was a promise given under misrepresentation then he is released
from it--that holds in law," said Paul.
"I believe it does," agreed our hero. "I hope I get a chance to speak to
him to-morrow. The idea of hiding him away out in this desert to prevent
him from going to court. It's outrageous."
"Do you think he'll testify for Mr. Wardell if you show him the facts?"
asked Paul.
"I sure do. Well, let's turn in. To-morrow will be another day. There's
a lot of hard work ahead of us."
They were up early the next morning, the night having passed without
incident, though Grit growled several times as though intruders--human
or otherwise--were about the camp. But he gave no decided alarm, and the
boys did not pay much attention.
Soon after breakfast they resumed work on getting the auto out of the
clinging sand, by using the canvas strips. While they were engaged on
this, Mr. Cameron and his two guards came up.
"We came to see if we could help you any," he said, with a wink. "At the
same time I'd like to get a look at your car." He passed close to Dick,
and found a chance to whisper: "Where are the papers?"
"In the old envelope, back of the mirror," replied Dick in the same low
voice. Then, in louder tones, he added: "We'd be glad of some help.
It's hard work."
"Sam, and Bill, don't you want to get busy?" went on the young engineer.
"Sure!" said Sam. In fact, he and his companion seemed anxious to get
the three boys away from the vicinity. The men helped spread and fasten
down the canvas strips, and as Dick got in the car to drive it forward,
he saw Mr. Cameron looking over the legal papers that proved how he had
been deceived.
"By Jove, Hamilton!" he exclaimed, "you were right. They have put up a
great game on me."
"Then will you turn them down?"
"I certainly will. I'm on your side from now on. I didn't understand it.
These papers make it plain." He and Dick could talk without being
regarded suspiciously, since the two men were working with Paul and
Innis, spreading the strips of canvas.
Once or twice the two men looked at the car, as though wondering why Mr.
Cameron was riding in it. He guessed their thoughts, and, putting back
the papers, said to Dick:
"You may not need these, with my testimony. Still, keep them safe. Now
I'd better leave you. Those fellows are paid to watch me as a cat does a
mouse. How can I get away and reach 'Frisco?"
"We'll take you," said Dick, promptly. "We've accommodations for four
in this car. Can you manage to escape?"
"Yes, and it had better be to-night. There is a gully about a mile from
here, near a dried water hole. You'll get to it if you keep straight on.
Can you wait for me there?"
"Yes," said Dick, quickly.
"Then I won't say any more. Here comes Sam. I guess he's getting
suspicious." Mr. Cameron left the car, which Dick had stopped to allow
him to alight, the engineer added in louder tones: "You certainly have a
fine machine there, Mr. Hamilton. I envy you. Now I'll give you a hand
in getting under way again. Perhaps I may see you some day in 'Frisco."
The canvas strips proved just the thing needed, and after about an
hour's work the _Last Word_ was on firmer ground. Then, bidding their
new acquaintances good-bye, during which farewells Dick winked at Mr.
Cameron, to indicate that the arrangements made would be carried out,
the big car was sent on over the desert. The two men seemed much
relieved as it went off.
Dick easily found the gully Mr. Cameron had referred to. Driving several
miles past it, to throw off suspicion in case they were followed, the
young millionaire came to a halt.
"We'll wait here until night," he said, making his chums acquainted with
the plan to be followed.
The boys thought night would never come, but it did finally, and
carefully they ran their car back nearly to the dry gully. Then,
stopping at a safe distance, Dick went back to hold the rendezvous with
Mr. Cameron.
An hour passed, and Dick was beginning to think that perhaps the plan
had failed, when he heard a cautious whistle. It was a strain from "My
Old Kentucky Home." He answered in like manner, and then a voice called:
"Here I am. But we'd better be quick. They may follow me as they did
last night."
"Come on," urged Dick. They went back toward the car on the run. It was
the work of but a moment to start it, and with four passengers now,
instead of three, the _Last Word_ shot over the desert in the darkness,
no lights being set aglow, as they wanted to remain concealed for some
time yet. They were on their way to 'Frisco, and with a better chance of
saving Mr. Wardell's fortune than Dick had imagined could be had,
following the revelation in that stray newspaper.