OFF FOR THE MINING DISTRICT
While Jack Wumble was off attending to his private business the
three Rover boys took a stroll through Denver.
The city was different from any they had visited, and their walk
was full of interest.
Coming to a store in the window of which were exhibited a number of
Indian curiosities, the boys halted to examine the objects, when
Tom uttered a sudden cry.
"Look, Dick! There is Bradner inside!"
"Yes, and Dan Baxter is with him!" returned the elder brother
quickly. "Here's luck, surely!"
"Will you have them locked up?" asked Sam.
"To be sure--if we can."
The boys looked around for a policeman, but none happened to be in
sight.
"Run and see if you can find one," said Dick to Sam. "Tom and I
can watch the pair."
At once Sam made off. But policemen were not numerous, and it took
quite some time to locate one and explain what was wanted.
In the meantime Dan Baxter had caught sight of Tom and told
Bradner of his discovery.
Boy and man came out of the store in a great hurry. They were
about to run off when Dick caught Bradner by the arm, while his
brother halted the former bully of Putnam Hall.
"Let go of me!" hissed Bradner, and as Dick paid no attention he
aimed a blow for the youth's head. But Dick "had been there
before," and dodged, and the force of his effort nearly took the
rascal off his feet. Before he could recover Dick had him down on
his back and was sitting on his chest.
Tom was having a lively time with Dan Baxter. The bully hit the
boy in the shoulder, and Tom retaliated with a sharp crack that
landed straight on Baxter's nose and drew blood.
"A fight! a fight!" yelled a passing newsboy, and as if by magic a
crowd began to collect.
Again Baxter struck out, but his blow fell short, and now Tom gave
him one in the ear that spun him half around. By this time the
bully felt that he had had enough of the encounter, and breaking
through the crowd he set off on a mad run down the street and
around the nearest comer.
Feeling it would be useless to try to catch Dan Baxter just then,
Tom turned his attention to Dick and Henry Bradner. Bradner was
struggling hard to get up, but Dick was master of the situation, so
Tom had little to do.
"What's the meaning of this?" demanded the policeman, as soon as he
came upon the scene.
"I want this man arrested," answered Dick, as he got up, but still
kept close to Bradner.
"What has he done?"
"He is a sharper of the worst kind."
"You are sure of this?"
"I am--"
"You will have to go to the station house with us if I take the man
in," continued the policeman.
"I am willing," answered Dick quietly.
Muttering angrily to himself, Henry Bradner arose. He wanted to
run away, but got no chance to do so. Soon the station house was
reached, and here Dick and his brothers told their story.
"The assault happened in another State," said the officer at the
desk. "The most we can do is to hold him until the Illinois
authorities send for him."
"Why, that's Harry the Crook, from Gunnison!" put in an officer who
had just come in. "He is wanted here on half a dozen charges."
At these words Bradner turned deadly pale.
"This is a--a mistake," he faltered. "I know nothing of the man
you mention."
"Too thin, Harry; I know you well," replied the officer. "Captain,
he is a bad one," he continued to his superior.
An investigation into the records was made, and a picture in the
Rogues' Gallery proved that Bradner and Harry the Crook were one
and the same beyond a doubt.
"In that case we'll hold him right here," said the police captain.
The matter was talked over with Dick, and the youth decided to let
his own charge against the crook drop, as he did not wish to waste
time in Denver on the case. An hour later the three Rovers
departed, leaving Henry Bradner to a fate he richly deserved.
"That is one of our enemies disposed of," observed Dick, as they
walked back to the hotel. "I wish we could do up the Baxters just
as easily."
The following day found them on the way to Gunnison. Nothing more
had been seen or heard of Dan Baxter, nor had anything turned up
concerning Arnold Baxter and Roebuck, the man who was with him and
who hid helped him to escape from prison.
The country was now mountainous in the extreme, with here and there
a wild, weird canyon thousands of feet deep. Some of the awful
pitfalls made Sam fairly hold his breath.
"Gosh!" he murmured. "This beats Africa, doesn't it? Who ever saw
such lofty peaks before--and such rivers cut out of the solid
rock!"
The boys found Gunnison a small mining city containing perhaps six
thousand souls. A few of the buildings were quite up to date, but
the majority were little better than shanties. But Gunnison was a
center for the trade of many miles around, and business was brisk.
At Gunnison the entire party procured horses from a dealer Jack
Wumble knew, beasts that were strong and used to mountain
traveling.
"We might go on for twenty miles or so by rail, but this is the
best place for fitting out," said the old miner. "We can strike a
putty fair trail from here, leading directly, to Larkspur Creek."
"And how far is that mining district from here?" asked Tom.
"As the birds fly about sixty-five miles. But the trail makes it a
good hundred miles, and some putty stiff climbin' at that. I'm
glad ye are used to roughin' it, for this traveling don't go well
with a tenderfoot."
The day was clear and the air bracing, and the boys started off
with their friend in the best of spirits. Soon the city was left
behind, and then began a journey along the foothills which seemed
to have no end.
"If Arnold Baxter is watching us he is taking precious good care to
keep out of sight," said Tom, as they rode along in single file,
with Jack Wumble in the lead.
"No doubt Dan has joined his father and told him of Bradner's
fate," returned Dick. "But we have got to keep our eyes wide open.
We all know what a wretch Arnold Baxter is, and out in this wild
country almost anything is liable to happen."
On and on they went, first over a stubble of thin grass and then
through a forest of tall pine trees. Rocks were everywhere, and
the trail wound in and out, with an occasional watercourse to be
forded.
"These watercourses are all right now," observed Jack Wumble. "But
in the early spring, when the snow on the mountains begins to melt,
they become raging torrents, and getting across 'em is out of the
question."
"How far are yonder peaks from here?" asked Sam, pointing ahead.
"About twenty miles."
"Gracious, as far as that! I didn't know one could see so clearly
for such a long distance. They look to me to be only about three
miles."
"The air is very pure and clear out here, lad. No better air in
this wide world than that of Colorady."
At noon they came to a halt in a little hollow, protected alike
from the breeze and the direct rays of the overhead sun. Their
saddle bags were filled with provisions, and Tom and Sam began to
prepare their first meal in the open, with Dick and the old miner
assisting.
After the meal Jack Wumble took a smoke and a ten minutes' nap, and
during that time the three boys strolled off in various directions,
Sam going ahead on the trail.
Presently the youngest Rover had his eye arrested by a post set up
in the middle of the trail. To the top of the post was tacked a
sheet of white paper.
"This is queer," thought Sam, and drew closer to inspect the sheet.
On it were written the words, in pencil:
"To the Rovers and their friend:
"If you want to keep out of trouble you will return to Gunnison at
once. If you dare to push on to Larkspur Creek it may cost you
your lives. We are watching you, and are fully armed, and you had
better be warned in time.
"THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS OF THE MINE"
CHAPTER XXI
LOST IN THE MOUNTAINS
"Dick! Tom! Jack! Come here and see what I have found!"
Sam's cry was a loud one, and soon the others came up on a run,
Jack Wumble pistol in hand, for his life in the open had taught him
to be forever prepared for danger.
"Wot is it, lad?" asked the old miner anxiously.
"It's a quit notice for us," answered Sam soberly. "I can tell
you, the Baxters mean to carry matters with a high hand."
All of the others read the notice in silence. Then Dick thrust his
hands into his pockets coolly.
"I'll see them hanged before I'll go back," he said.
"I am with you," added Tom. "But we must be cautious after this,
or the Baxters will be firing at us from an ambush."
"If only we could catch sight of them," put in Sam. "They ought to
be shot on sight!"
The boys looked at Jack Wumble, who had remained silent.
"Do you advise us to go back?" asked Dick hastily.
"I can't say as I do, lads," was the slow response. "Yet it might be
better to do that nor to be shot down and have yer body thrown into a
canyon," added Wumble, speaking in his old time vernacular. "Perhaps
your father would rather have ye back."
"I don't believe it," burst out Tom. "Father never wanted cowards
for sons."
Dick caught the paper, tore it down and ripped it in two, throwing
it to the wind.
"I say I'm going ahead."
"So am I," came from both of his brothers. "But you need not go
Jack." went on Dick. "We don't wish you to run into danger, and--"
"Hold up, Dick, I said I would see ye through, and I will," cried
the old miner. "But I want ye to realize what ye are doing, that's
all. If you are shot down it will be yer own fault, so to speak."
"But we don't intend to be shot down," interrupted Tom. "We have
run up against the Baxters before, so we know how to be careful."
"It aint like as if they were in a city in the East," went on
the old miner. "Here some men are mighty free with their
shootin'-irons. And they could take a shot at ye from a long
distance, with a good rifle."
Thus talking the entire party walked back to their camp and sat
down to discuss the situation in detail.
"Perhaps we had better not advance until dark," said Dick. "If we
advance now we will simply be making targets of ourselves," and he
shivered in spite of himself.
"We won't advance at all," put in Jack Wumble briefly. "We would
be wuss nor fools if we did--with them human wildcats a--watchin'
of us," and he began to puff vigorously at his short stump of a
briarroot pipe.
"But you said--" began Tom, when the old miner waved him to
silence.
"Let me think it out, lads, and then I'll tell ye my plan. We'll
trick 'em--that's best," and he began to smoke again.
Satisfied that Jack Wumble knew the ground to be covered better
than they did, the boys decided to let him have his own way, so
long as the object of the expedition should be advanced. They sat
down in the shade to rest, and thus several hours passed, and the
old miner smoked up half 'a dozen pipefuls of his favorite plug
mixture.
"I've got it," he cried at last. "If we kin work the deal we'll
keep 'em guessing." And he laughed softly to himself.
His plan was a simple one. Several miles back on the trail there
was a fork, the second trail running to the northward. His plan
was to ride back to the fork, and then in the darkness of the night
to take to the second trail.
"That don't lead to Larkspur Creek," he said. "But it leads to Go
Lightly Gulch, and from there I know an old Indian trail which
leads to the Larkspur by way of Bender Mountain. It's dangerous
trail to ride, but it's safe, too, so far as our enemies are
concerned, for they can't cover it from any other part of the
mountains. They would either have to be right in front of us or
right behind, and in that case we'd have as much of a show at them
as they would have at us."
"That's a good plan," exclaimed Dick. "Let us adopt it, by all
means."
Slowly the afternoon wore away, until the sun was lost to view
behind the great Rocky Mountains in the west. As soon as the
shadows became long and deep Jack Wumble arose.
"Now I reckon we can begin to ride on the back trail," he said,
with a shrewd smile on his rugged face.
It was an easy matter to saddle the horse again.
The rest had made the animals as fresh as ever and this was a good
thing, as the old miner calculated to ride a long distance between
sunset and sunrise.
"I suppose our enemies are watching every move we make," said Tom.
"But I must say I can't catch a single glance of them."
"I thought I saw a speck or two of something over the hill to the
south," said Dick.
Jack Wumble nodded. "You are right, Dick, I saw the specks too,
and they were men looking in this direction. But they might not
have been our enemies."
"If only we had a good field glass," sighed Sam. "I was going to
bring one along, but I forgot all about it."
They rode on slowly, the old miner not wishing to reach the fork in
the trail until it was quite dark. Fortunately it was clouding up,
so that not even the stars would be left to betray them.
"We are coming to the fork," said Wumble, about eight o'clock.
"Keep your eyes peeled, lads, and if you see anything out of the
ordinary, let me know at once."
There was a tiny stream to cross, and then the way led around a
series of sharp rocks.
"Keep to the grass as much as possible," cautioned the old miner in
a voice that was a mere whisper. "And now follow me as fast as you
can!"
Away he bounded in the lead, and the three Rover boys followed
around the rocks through a stretch of pines and over some fallen
firs, and then up and up a rugged trail where the footing was so
insecure that the horses slipped continually. The branches of the
drooping trees bothered them greatly, and had it not been for
Wumble's continual warnings one or another of them would have been
seriously hurt. The horses panted for breath, but still the old
miner kept the pace until the top of the first range of foothills
was gained. Here he called a halt under an overhanging rock
beneath which it was as black as a dungeon.
"So far so good," he muttered, as he leaped to the ground and began
to pat his heaving and perspiring animal. "I don't believe they
know much about where we went to, even if they followed us back to
the fork."
"I don't believe they are following us," said Dick, as he placed
his ear to the ground and listened. All was as silent as the
grave.
They remained under the rock the best part of an hour, allowing
their trusty animals to get back their wind and strength. During
this time Wumble walked back a short distance and Tom climbed up to
the top of the rock, but neither made any discovery of importance.
It was a little after midnight when they moved forward again.
Their pace was now little better than a walk, for the trail was a
dangerous one, and in many spots they had to leap down and lead
their horses. Once they came to a gully six to eight feet wide,
without a bridge, and it took a good deal of urging to get Tom's
horse to make the leap across.
"If a fellow should tumble in there where would he go to?" asked
Sam, with a shudder.
"He'd go out of sight forever," replied Wumble solemnly. "Some of
those cuts are a thousand feet deep."
"What a mighty upheaval of nature there must have been here at one
time," said Dick.
By three o'clock in the morning Tom was completely fagged out and
could scarcely keep his eyes open. Gradually he dragged behind the
others, his eyes closing every few minutes in spite of his efforts
to keep them open.
"I wish I had a cup of strong coffee to keep me awake," he
murmured. "How much further are you going, Jack?"
"A couple of miles or so," answered the old miner. "Want a smoke?
You can have my pipe."
"Thank you, but I don't smoke, and I guess it would only make me
feel worse," answered Tom.
He began to drop further and further behind. The other boys spoke
to him, but they were in reality nearly as much worn out as their
brother, and had all they could do to keep Wumble in sight.
At last Tom's head fell forward on his breast, and on the instant
he went fast asleep. His horse continued to move forward, but
coming to a fork in the trail, took the downward path, that being
the easier to travel. On and on went the beast, until striking a
smooth road he set off on a gallop.
The violent motion aroused Tom, and he stared about him in
bewilderment. "Dick! Sam!" he called out. "Where are you?"
No answer came back, and he sat bolt upright in alarm. Nobody was
in sight, nor could he hear a sound saving the hoof beats of his
own horse. He drew rein instantly.
"Dick!" he called loudly. "Jack Wumble! Where are you?"
Not a sound came in reply--not even the cry of a bird--all was
absolutely silent. Tom gave something of a gasp. He realized his
position only too well.
He was lost in the mountains.
CHAPTER XXIII
TOM MEETS THE ENEMY
"Oh, what a fool I was to fall asleep!"
Thus spoke poor Tom to himself, as he continued to gaze around him
and call out. To one side was the high mountain, to the other a
deep valley filled with giant trees, and on both sides an utter
loneliness which seemed to penetrate his very soul.
Like a flash there came over him the various stories he had heard
of men being lost in these mountains and wandering around for days
and weeks until their very reason forsook them. Was he, too,
doomed to such a horrible fate?
Fervidly he prayed to Heaven that such an ending might not overtake
him. Then with care he turned his horse about, thinking to gain
the point where he had become separated from the rest, and feeling
that they must, sooner or later, turn back to look for him.
Once he imagined that he heard somebody calling him. But the sound
was so far away he was not sure, and the echo was such that he
could not determine from what direction the call emanated. Yet he
yelled in return, nearly splitting his throat in his endeavor to
make himself heard. For the time being the enemy was completely
forgotten.
Tom's turning back, as he thought he was doing, only made matters
worse, for the horse branched off on another trail--but so slender
that it soon gave out altogether and left him on the trackless
mountain side, and several miles from the fork where his steed had
made the first mistake.
Yet he pressed on, calling again and again, but receiving no
answer. Twice he imagined he heard pistol shots, and this gave him
the idea of firing his own weapon, and he emptied the cylinder, but
with no good to himself. Then he reloaded and came to a dead stop.
He had never been more lonely in his life.
The balance of the night dragged so slowly that Tom thought it
would never come morning again. With the first streak of light in
the East he arose from the rock upon which he had thrown himself,
and running to a higher point gazed eagerly around him.
He felt as Robinson Crusoe must have done on his deserted island.
On all sides were rocks and hills, mountains and valleys, some bare
and others covered with growths of pines and firs. Here and there
glistened a rushing stream or a lofty waterfall, and on one of the
hills he saw a herd of mule deer and on another a solitary Rocky
Mountain goat. But nowhere was there the first sign of a human
being.
Tom stood there for fully ten minutes, his breast heaving and his
heart sinking within him like a lump of lead. He was alone,
absolutely alone, in that wild and almost trackless region.
What was to be done?
Over and over he asked himself the question, and the answer always
remained a blank. He knew not which way to turn, for going on
might bring him into worse difficulty.
And yet he could not think of remaining still where he was, for the
very thought was maddening. He must try to do something, be the
consequence what it might.
Then he realized that his mouth was dry and that he was hungry.
This made him remember that all of the provisions were loaded on
the horses ridden by Jack Wumble and Dick. His own steed bore only
some mining tools.
"I wish I could swap the tools for something to eat," he mused.
"But there is no use in crying over spilt milk. I'm in a pickle,
and I must do my best to get myself out of it."
At a short distance he saw a small hollow which had become partly
filled by the rain of several days before. He walked to the hollow
and drank his fill and then led his horse thither.
"We're lost, old man," he said, patting the beast on the neck. "We
must find the others. You'll help, won't you?" And the horse
pricked up his ears and looked around wisely as if he understood
every word. At that moment Tom felt that a horse is indeed man's
best friend.
He soon set off, but slowly, trying to locate the trail which had
brought him astray, and trying at the same time, by the rising sun,
to determine the direction in which his brothers and Jack Wumble
had passed. But, as before, his efforts were misleading, and by
the middle of the forenoon he found himself on a barren hilltop
with no chance of leaving it excepting by the way he had come.
It was truly disheartening, and hot, tired, and discouraged he
leaped again to the ground. He was now very hungry, without a
morsel to satisfy the cravings of his stomach. His steed, too,
wanted for something to eat, and gnawed eagerly at the spare
vegetation as soon as permitted.
Tom was wondering what should be his next move when he was startled
by the appearance of a mule deer on the hillside just below him.
As he gazed at the animal he soon saw another, and then another,
until the hillside seemed to be covered with them.
"I suppose men never come here to disturb them," he thought
bitterly. "I wonder if I could bring one down with my pistol?
I've got matches, and cooked deer's meat would be first class."
He crept as close as he could to the deer. Fortunately the breeze
was blowing up the hill toward him, so the animals could not scent
him readily. When he had gotten as near as he thought possible, he
took careful aim and blazed away twice in quick succession.
His first shot was a failure, but his second landed in the deer's
front leg, breaking that member at the knee and pitching the deer
headlong. At once the rest of the herd took alarm, and went off
like the wind, down the hillside into the valley and up another
hill a good mile away. At the same time the wounded beast tried to
rise, but before it could do so Tom ran closer and put three more
balls into it, and then it rolled over, gave a jerk or two, and
remained quiet forever.
The sight of such a feast made Tom's heart much lighter, and he
brought out his pocket-knife and cut out some of the steaks. Then
he moved down the hillside to where some brush promised abundant
firewood and better forage for his horse.
The fire was soon lit and blazing away merrily, and the boy began
to broil his steaks.
"Perhaps Dick and the others will see the smoke," he thought. "I
trust they do, for I don't want to put in a whole night alone."
Tom ate his meal slowly, for he did not know what to do after it
was finished. He wished he knew how far the nearest settlement was
and in what direction.
After he had eaten his fill, he tied the balance of the steaks in a
corner of his blanket, for the food must be kept for future use.
Then he walked up to the top of the hill for another look around.
Suddenly he caught sight of a man riding swiftly toward him--a
heavy-set man, with busky whiskers and a face that was almost black
from constant exposure to the elements.
"Hullo, youngster!" cried the man, when he was within hailing
distance. "All alone here?"
"I am!" cried Tom, and he felt something of joy to see a human
being again.
"What brought you away out here? Hunting?"
"Not exactly, although I did bring down yonder animal," with a jerk
of the thumb toward the deer. "I've lost my way."
"Did you, really? That's bad. It's lucky I ran across you.
What's your handle?"
"Tom Rover," answered the youth boldly. "What is yours?"
"Noxton. So you are all alone?"
"Yes." Tom was trying to think where he had heard that name, but
could not remember.
"Are you alone?"
"Well, hardly." Bill Noxton hesitated for a moment. "I was alone,
but day before yesterday I fell in with a couple of Englishmen who
are out here to see the sights, and they hired me to show 'em
around. Our camp is just below here. Will you come down an' be
introduced to the beef-eaters?"
"I suppose I might as well," answered Tom, never suspecting any
trick. "I certainly don't want to remain alone any longer."
"Then come on. I told the beef-eaters I would be back inside of
half an hour."
The man waited for Tom to mount, and then led the way down the
hillside and into the valley. There was a patch of forest to pass,
and they came out in a clearing on another hill, overlooking a
mountain stream which flowed a hundred feet below.
"Here we are," cried Bill Noxton, as he suddenly wheeled behind
Tom. "Shall I introduce you, Mr. Rover?"
Tom looked ahead, and his heart dropped.
There around a camp-fire sat Arnold Baxter and his son Dan, and a
man who was a stranger to him. Clearly he was trapped, and in the
hands of the enemy.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE SEARCH FOR THE MISSING BOY
"Tom isn't here!"
It was Dick who uttered the words, as of a sudden he wheeled around
on the dark trail and tried to penetrate the blackness of night
behind them.
"Isn't here?" demanded Jack Wumble, while Sam set up a cry of
dismay.
"No. Tom! Tom!"
Sam joined in the cry, and so did the old miner, but as we already
know, it was useless.
"This is the wust yet!" growled Jack Wumble. "I told ye all to
keep close to me."
"Perhaps he fell asleep-- I know he was dead tired," answered Dick,
hitting the plain truth.
"We'll have to go back for him," said Sam, and turned without
delay, for going ahead without Tom was all out of the question.
"Yes, we'll go back," rejoined the old miner. "But go slow, or you
may make matters wuss. I kin follow a clear trail, even of three
hosses, but I can't follow a trail mixed up backward an' forward."
They rode back slowly until at least half a mile had been covered.
Then they shouted, but only a dismal echo came back. Dick fancied
once that he heard Tom calling, but was not sure.
Daylight found them still searching around, Dick and Sam with more
sober faces than they had worn in many a day. They knew only too
well the danger of becoming lost in those wild mountains.
"Perhaps he has fallen in with Baxter's party," suggested Dick, as
they came to a halt at the edge of a cliff overlooking a rushing
river far below. It was past the breakfast hour, yet none of them
felt like eating.
"Be careful how you expose yourself," observed Jack Wumble, as he
screened himself and his horse behind some brush. "It won't do no
good to Tom to let your enemies see you."
"If only we hadn't lost the trail," sighed Sam. The back trail had
disappeared, on some rocks half an hour before and all efforts to
take it up again had proved unsuccessful.
The Rover boys felt very much disheartened. Without Tom what was
the use of going ahead to locate the missing mine?
"He's worth a dozen mines," said Dick.
"We must find him--we simply must."
But they were "stumped," to use Sam's way of expressing it, and
with nothing better to do, Jack Wumble drew further back into the
bushes, tethered his horse and got out the provisions for a meal.
The boys ate mechanically and were soon done. Then Wumble got out
his pipe and began to smoke more vigorously than ever.
"If we had a field glass we might spot him," he observed. "He
can't be such a terrible distance away."
"I'm going to fire my pistol again," said Dick, and did, so, but no
response came back and he re-loaded as crestfallen as ever.
It was a clear day, but the very sun seemed a mockery as it beamed
down upon them.
"Supposing we separate and renew the hunt?" suggested Sam, but
Wumble slowly shook his head.
"None o' that, lad. It will only be a case of another one lost.
No, we must keep within sight of each other, no matter what we do.
Come, I have an idea of looking into the valley on the other side
of this hill, and then we can try the hill yonder."
Anything was better than sitting still, and once more they rode on.
For the time being the enemy was almost forgotten.
They were going down along the edge of the cliff when, without
warning, Dick's horse began to slip, having stepped on a rock which
was insecure.
"Hi! whoa!" yelled the youth, and tried to hold the horse back.
Then, as he saw the animal could not save himself, he leaped for
the ground. The horse managed to scramble to a place of safety,
but Dick, in trying to avoid a dangerous hoof stroke from the
beast, lost his balance and went crashing down into the bushes
overhanging the cliff!
Down and down, and still down, went the elder Rover, from one bush
to another, his clothing catching here and there, thus partly
staying his progress. But he could not stop himself entirely, and
reaching the stream at last he went in with a loud splash and
disappeared from view!
"Dick's gone!" ejaculated Sam. He tried to look over the edge of
the cliff. "Oh, my! He will be drowned!"
He had heard the splash, as had also Wumble, and now both
dismounted with all speed and crept to the very edge of the bushes.
But the cliff bulged outward just below them and they could see
nothing but a strip of the water on the opposite side.
"Dick! Dick!" sang out the brother. "Are you safe?"
No reply came back, and Sam's face turned white as he looked at
Jack Wumble. "Do you think he has been--been killed?" The question
nearly choked him.
"I can't say, Sam," was the answer. "We must git down an' see."
With extreme care the old miner let himself down from one clump of
brush to another. His experience at prospecting stood him in good
stead, for he had frequently climbed down just such heights to see
if the mountain stream below would "pan out" sufficiently to set up
a claim.
In the meanwhile Dick had gone to the very bottom of the stream,
struck on the sand and rocks, and come up again. In falling down
he had turned over and over, and he was as much dazed by this as he
was by the quantity of cold water which he swallowed. For the
minute after coming up he did not realize his situation. Then he
felt himself borne along swiftly, he knew not to where. The
rushing of the water was deafening, for the stream was approaching
a narrow canyon, and here the water was lashed into a milky foam as
it tumbled and tore over the rocks on its way to a broader spot
quarter of a mile below.
Presently Dick felt his feet touch bottom, but only for an instant.
The stream was calmer now, and to one side of the cut he saw a
narrow strip of band, leading up to a shelving of rocks, with here
and there a tiny brush struggling for existence in a spot which the
sunlight never touched. He began to strive with might and main to
reach the strip of sand, and finally succeeded. Then he threw
himself down, too exhausted to make another move.
"I'm in for it now," he thought, when he somewhat recovered. "How
in the world am I ever to get back to that trail again?"
He looked above him. The mountain was high here, and there was
nothing resembling a path leading upward. To climb from one scant
footing to another would prove perilous, if not impossible.
"We are making a mess of this expedition," he groaned. "First Tom
must get lost, or worse, and now I am down here like a rat in a
trap. Perhaps we would have been better off if we had never
started out."
When Dick felt able he walked from one end of the sand strip to the
other. This gave him no satisfaction, and he began to inspect the
stream again. Below him was a curve, and what was beyond there was
no telling.
"If I enter the water again it may carry me along for miles before
I have another chance to get out," he reasoned. "And then I will
be just that much further away from Sam and Wumble."
If he had had his pistol he would have fired it to let them know
that he was safe, and in the hope that they would come for him.
But the weapon had been lost in the tumble down the cliff.
With much hesitation he began to climb up the side of the canyon,
making sure that one footing was perfectly safe before he tried
another. In this manner he at length reached the height of a
hundred feet. He did not dare to look back for fear of tumbling.
And yet the path to safety was still a long way off.
"If I can't gain the top and can't go back, what then?" he asked
himself, and the cold perspiration stood out on his forehead in
beads. There was a bush in front of him, and he squeezed into this,
so that he might sit down to consider the situation. Pushed back,
the bush suddenly gave way altogether, and to his astonishment Dick
fell into the opening of a large cave.
CHAPTER XXV
A CAVE AND A BEAR
"Hullo, here's something new!" thought Dick, as he gathered himself
up. Bush and boy had rolled downward for a distance of a dozen
feet. He found himself on a rocky floor that was almost level.
The cave was ten to twenty feet wide, and so high that in the gloom
he could not see the ceiling.
Luckily the boys had with them the waterproof match safes which had
proved so handy in Africa, and now Dick brought out the one he
carried and lit a match. The bush that had given way was dry, and
soon he made of it quite a respectable torch. Satisfied that the
cave had no side branches in which he might become lost, he
resolved to push into it, in the hope that another opening might
present itself, leading to the cliff where the accident had
occurred.
The cave was dry and dusty, not a particle of water being anywhere
visible. As he walked along he came across some dead leaves and
then some small tree branches. These gave him much encouragement,
for how could they have gotten into the place if there was no
entrance from the mountain side?
Dick had advanced a distance of several hundred yards when he came
to a turn to the right, and from this point the bottom of the cave
sloped gradually upward. He also made out a glimmer of light, but
it was so far off that nothing was to be seen distinctly.
Much encouraged, he pushed on faster than ever, until a line of
rocks barred his further progress. He was about to climb the rocks
when a growl from a distance caused him to pause.
What was it? With bated breath Dick listened until the growl was
repeated. The walls of the cave took it up, and it was repeated
over and over again until lost in the distance.
"A bear--or something just as bad!" thought the youth. "Now what's
to do?"
He crouched down on the rocks and sat as still as death for fully
five minutes. But no further growl reached him, and then he
plucked up courage enough to scramble up the rocks, which led to a
flooring considerably higher than that over which he had been
traveling.
Hurrah! It was the light of day ahead, and Dick could scarcely
suppress a shout of joy. But the growl still hung in his mind, and
though he went forward it was as silently as a cat and with eyes
strained first in one direction and then in another. He was glad
he still had the torch, for he remembered that the majority of wild
beasts are afraid of a light. It had burned rather low, but by
swinging it around he soon started up the blaze.
And now he could see the cave entrance distinctly, less than two
hundred feet off. It was low and wide, and there were several
bushes growing around it. He started on a run, and as he did so
the growl sounded out again, this time almost directly beside him.
He turned swiftly and beheld two glaring eyeballs bent upon him,
from the gloom of a hollow on one side of the cave. Whether or not
the bear was preparing to leap upon him he could not say, but he
jumped like lightning and then tore on as if the demon of the
bottomless pit was after him.
The bear was following! Dick knew this without looking behind. The
animal was heavy and clumsy, yet it covered the ground with an
agility that was surprising. It was hungry, not having tasted meat
for several days, and now thought it saw the prospect of a fine
meal ahead.
"Back!" yelled Dick, but the animal paid no attention. The boy was
running as never before, yet the bear kept drawing closer, until
Dick almost felt its hot breath on his neck. He trailed the torch
behind him and the beast fell back several paces.
The opening was now gained, and the youth ran out on the mountain
side, which was covered with stubble and rocks. Glancing hastily
around, Dick saw one rock that was both small and rather high and
scrambled to the top of this.
The bear gained the mouth of the cave and looked out suspiciously.
Then, as it discovered the boy on the rock, it let out another
growl, more terrifying than any which had gone before. Slowly it
trotted toward Dick, and then began a circle of the rock, as if to
determine whether or not the ground was clear for an attack.
The boy still held the torch, but it was burnt nearly to the end
and was in danger of going out every minute. Besides, in the
sunshine it did not look half as formidable as it had in the gloomy
cave.
Suddenly the bear reared itself up on its hind legs and advanced
straight for the rock. At this movement Dick's heart seemed to
stop beating. Yet he managed to let out one long scream for help.
Then as the bear came still nearer, he thrust the torch end
directly into the brute's face.
Of course the animal fell back, and down went the torch on the
rocks below, and Dick was now utterly defenseless. The bear
appeared to know this, and let out a growl of satisfaction, as
though it had its next meal already within its grizzly grasp.
Bang! It was the report of a gun not over a hundred yards away,
and the bear dropped to all fours and shook its head wildly. Bang!
came another report, and now the bear screamed with pain and fell
over on its side. Dick looked behind him in amazement and beheld a
stranger on horseback. The stranger had just emptied his
double-barreled rifle, and now he came riding up with his pistol in
his hand. The bear tried to rise up to meet him, but was too
seriously wounded already, and a shot at close range finished the
brute's misery.
"Well, young fellow, reckon you was in a putty tight fix?" remarked
the stranger, after he had made certain that the animal was dead.
"I was in a tight fix," answered Dick, with a shiver. "You came in
the nick of time, and I owe you a good deal for it."
"That's all right--I never go back on a bar if I git a chance at
him. But how in thunder came you in such a fix in the fust place?"
went on the horseman, who was at least six feet four in height--and
about as thin a man as Dick had ever seen.
"It's a long story, sir," was the cautious response. "May I ask
who it is that has saved me?"
"Wall, my right handle are James Carson," was the answer. "But
them as knows me well callers calls me Slim Jim, and it's good
enough fer the likes o' a shadder like me, too, I calkerlate. An'
who might you be?"
"I am Dick Rover. I was with my two brothers and an old miner named
Jack Wumble when I slipped off my horse into the river over there
and nearly lost my life. But I managed to crawl out, and in
climbing up the mountain side found yonder cave and came through to
this end. In the cave I found the bear and he followed me to here.
You know the rest."
"Wall! wall! You have had a narrow escape, youngster, an' no
disputin' the p'int. Ef I hadn't a-come as I did, thet air bar
would have chawed ye up in no time."
"I know it, Mr. Carson. Your kind--"
"Whoopee, Rover, don't go fer to mister me, or I'll be sorry I
killed the bar for ye. I'm plain Slim Jim to all as knows me--Slim
Jim the hunter an' trapper. I've spent forty year on these
mountains, an' like ez not I'll spend forty more, ef the good Lord
allows me to live thet long. An' whar do ye calkerlate your
brothers and Jack Wumble air now?"
"I'm sure I don't know. One of my brothers, Tom, got lost and I
and Sam and Wumble were looking for him when I had the mishap. Do
you know Jack Wumble?"
"Fer sartin I do--knowned him when he war mining up on the ole
Bumble Bee Creek, ez he called it."
"Indeed!" cried Dick. "Then perhaps you knew my father, Anderson
Rover? He used to be in partnership with a man named Kennedy."
"Knew him--o' course I knew him, lad! An' so you air his son, hey?
Wall! wall! shake!" And Slim Jim, as he preferred to be called,
thrust forth a hand that was as hard as a piece of horn. But he
had a soft heart, and Dick soon learned that he was as much to be
trusted as was Jack Wumble.
"I'll do my best to set ye right, lad," said the old hunter, after
he had listened to the details of Dick's story. "I think I know
about the spot whar ye took the tumble."
Before leaving the vicinity Slim Jim set to work and cut the pelt
off the bear and hung it up. He also cut away some of the choicest
of the meat.
"It's a pity to leave any o' it behind," he observed. "Some poor
folks a-starvin' to deth in the city, an' thar's a meal fer a
hundred!"
It was well along in the afternoon when they started, Dick riding
behind the old hunter. He felt that he could tell Slim Jim about
their mission, and he mentioned how the Baxters were watching them
and trying to outwit them.
"I remember thet Baxter, too," said the old hunter. "Wumble kin
tell ye how we come nigh to makin' him do a dance on nuthin' onct.
I'll take your part agin him every time, hear me!" And his
openness showed that he meant what he said.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE BAXTERS TRY TO MAKE TERMS
For the moment after Tom found himself in the presence of the
Baxters he could not speak. Then he turned fiercely upon Bill
Noxton.
"You have fooled me!" he cried hotly.
"That's right," laughed Noxton sarcastically.
"And let me add, ye was fooled putty easy."
"It's Tom Rover!" ejaculated Dan Baxter, as he leaped to his feet,
followed by his parent. "Where did you find him, Noxton; over to
that fire?"
"Yes."
"Were the others of the party with him?" put in Arnold Baxter
quickly.
"No, he was alone. He got lost from the rest last night, when they
gave us the slip in the dark."
"Then you have seen nothing of the others?" said Arnold Baxter, and
it was plain to see that he was keenly disappointed.
"No, but I reckon they can't be far off," replied Noxton.
Seeing that Tom contemplated running away, he made the youth
dismount. "Better make a prisoner of him," he suggested.
"By all means!" cried Dan Baxter, and brought forth a stout lariat.
With this Toni's hands were bound behind him, and his feet were
also secured.
"That's number one, Roebuck," laughed Arnold Baxter, turning to the
man who had thus far remained silent.
"Tom Rover?" asked the man laconically.
"Yes."
"A bright-looking chap."
"Oh, he's bright enough," growled Baxter senior.
"But it won't help him any," put in Dan, bound to say something.
"Is he the oldest of the three?"
"No, Dick is the oldest. Tom comes next."
"Then it is Dick you ought to have collared," said Roebuck, turning
to Noxton.
"I collared the one I happened to see."
"Well, Tom Rover, how do you like your situation?" asked Dan, with
a sickly smile, as the men turned away to discuss the situation
among themselves.
"Don't like it," replied Tom, as lightly as he could.
"I guess you are sorry, now, that you didn't heed our warning and
go back to Gunnison."
"I'm not particularly sorry. I have as much right out here as
anybody."
"Oh, you needn't put on airs to me. I know you are trembling in
your boots."
"Thanks, but if you'll bring your chin out of the air, Baxter,
you'll see that I am wearing shoes."
"Don't you put on airs with me, Tom Rover. You are in our power
and you shall suffer for the way you have treated my father and me
in the past."
"I have no doubt, Baxter, now I am helpless, that you will do your
worst. You were always ready to take an unfair advantage of
another."
This answer made Dan Baxter boil with rage, and he stepped closer
and shook his fist in Tom's face.
"You be careful or I'll--I'll crack you one," he blustered.
"You're a cheerful brute, Dan, I must say. Why don't you try to
fight fair for once? It would be such a delightful change."
"I do fight fair. You and your brothers have no right to poke your
noses in my affairs, and my father's."
"This affair out here is our own, not yours. The Eclipse Mine is
my father's property."
"And I say it belongs to me and dad," answered Dan, with more force
than elegance. "But I won't argue with you. You are in our power
and have got to take the consequence."
"What do you intend to do with me?" asked Tom.
"You'll find out soon enough."
"Don't you know that my brothers are in this neighborhood, and that
they have the law on their side?"
"Yes, I know your brothers are here--and we'll have them prisoners,
too, before long," returned Dan Baxter, and then cut the
conversation short by walking away.
Tom had managed to speak bravely enough, yet his heart was by no
means light. He realized that the Baxters had not forgotten the
past, and that here, in this wild country, they were more inclined
than ever to take the law in their own hands.
He was left alone for the best part of an hour, only Noxton seeing
to it that he did not run away. Then he was ordered to mount
again, his legs being liberated for that purpose.
Feeling it would be foolhardy to refuse, with three men and a boy
against him, Tom mounted, and the whole party moved along the
mountain to a spot which was evidently well-known to Noxton. Here,
at a certain point, was what had once been an overland hotel, but
the building was now dilapidated and deserted.
"We'll stop here for the present," said Arnold Baxter grimly. "Get
down, Rover," and Tom obeyed.
Inside of the place, two of the rooms were found in fair condition
and in one of these Tom was tied fast to a cupboard door. Then the
men went out for another parley.
The youth could not hear all that was said, but learned enough to
convince him that Al Roebuck, as he was called, was the party who
had forged the pardon which had obtained for Arnold Baxter his
liberty. For this work Roebuck had been promised a half share in
the Eclipse Mine, and of some money which Baxter the elder was
hoping to obtain.
At last Arnold Baxter and Dan came in once more and faced Tom.
"Rover, we are now ready to come to terms," began the man.
"Are you ready to release me?"
"Yes--under certain conditions."
"You've got to sign off all rights to that mine," broke in Dan.
"Dan, keep quiet," interposed his father. "I can do this better
alone."
"I know him better than you do, dad," returned his graceless son.
"Perhaps, but I am fully capable of making terms with him."
"All right, fire away, I don't care. Only don't let him off too
easy."
"I am anxious to settle this matter quietly," went on Arnold Baxter
to Tom. "I don't want any more trouble."
"Well, go ahead, I'm listening," came from Tom.
"You are out here to locate a certain mine."
"I don't deny it. The mine belongs to my father."
"It belongs to me--and I am bound to have it."
"You are a jailbird, Mr. Baxter. How can you hold such a property
now?"
The criminal winced and clenched his fists.
"Don't be quite so plain-spoken, Rover, it doesn't set well. I say
the claim is mine."
"Well?"
"You are in my power."
"Granted."
"Isn't your life worth something to you? To be sure it is. Then
why not try to make terms to save it?"
"You are fooling with me. You cannot be it earnest, Arnold
Baxter."
"You'll soon see if dad aint in earnest," burst out Dan.
"I am not fooling, Rover, I mean every word of what I say. If you
want to save your life you must make terms with me."
"What sort of terms?"
"You must write a letter to your brothers and the man who was with
you and get them to return without delay to the East."
"And after that?"
"After they have returned to the East we will set you free,
providing you swear to follow them and all of you swear to keep out
of Colorado in the future."
"And if I refuse?"
"If you refuse your life shall pay the forfeit," answered Arnold
Baxter. "Come now, which do you choose?"
CHAPTER XXVII
DASH FOR LIBERTY
For the minute after Arnold Baxter spoke Tom had nothing to say.
The man had offered terms, and if he did not accept them his very
life would be in danger.
Now, had Tom been the hero of some dime novel he would have shouted
at once, "I refuse your offer--do your worse, base villain that you
are!" But being an everyday American boy, with a proper regard for
his own life, he revolved the situation in his mind with great
care.
"Well, what do you say?" demanded Arnold Baxter impatiently.
"You had better accept dad's offer," broke in Dan.
"I don't know what to say," was the slow answer. "This, you must
remember, is brand new to me."
"My offer is a very fair one, Rover. You have gotten yourself in a
bad fix, and you can consider yourself lucky if you get out of it
with a whole skin."
"If I write the letter, how are you going to deliver it to my two
brothers and Jack Wumble?"
"We will find a way."
"And supposing they refuse to go back, what then? I won't be to
blame for that."
"They won't refuse--not when they realize that such a refusal means
death to you."
"They may. Dick is quite headstrong at times. I don't want to do
what I can for you and then suffer anyway."
"Well, if you do your best I will remember it when it comes to a
final settlement," responded Arnold Baxter, with more grace than
Tom had anticipated.
"Let me think it over for a few hours, and I will give you an
answer," said the boy, and though they coaxed and threatened,
neither of the Baxters could get any more out of him. At last they
left him in disgust, first, however, seeing to it that his bonds
were as tight as ever.
As soon as Tom was left alone he looked around for some means by
which he might escape from his tormentors. The room was square,
with a small window at one side and a broad fireplace at the other.
At one end was the door and at the other the cupboard to which he
had been fastened.
In his schooldays Tom had been a great hand at doing rope tricks,
and when his hands had been tied he had taken care to make his
enemies adjust the lariat as loosely as possible. Now, with a
dexterous twist or two he cleared his hands, although the effort
drew blood on one of his wrists. But, under the circumstances,
Tom counted this as nothing.
As soon as he was free the boy tiptoed his way to the window and
looked out. He saw Noxton and Roebuck sitting on a fallen tree
talking earnestly. Close to the door of the house stood the
Baxters, and Arnold Baxter was laying down the law to his son,
although what it was all about Tom could not determine.
"I can't go by the window," he mused. "And if I try the door--"
He stopped short, for just then Dan Baxter started to come into the
building. But his father stopped him.
"Let the boy alone," cried the elder Baxter. "He'll come around
all right, never fear."
"Oh, you're too soft with him," returned the son. "I'd give him a
cowhiding." Nevertheless, he walked away, and then all became as
silent as before.
Tom realized that whatever was to be done must be done quickly, and
walking back he surveyed the broad chimney. It was wide open to
the sky, and at one corner of the opening he saw the waving green
branch of a tree.
"If I could only get up into the tree," he thought, and no sooner
thought than tried. The chimney was dirty, and he was soon covered
with soot from head to foot. But being rough the chimney afforded
easy footings, and he reached the top without great effort. The
tree branch was scarcely two feet from the top.
With great caution the boy peered from the chimney. Noxton and
Roebuck were still talking earnestly and both had their backs
partly turned in his direction. The Baxters were out of sight.
As quickly as it could be accomplished, Tom stood upon the top of
the chimney, caught the tree limb and pulled himself up. The
branch swayed violently with his weight, but did not break, and
soon he was close to the trunk and out of sight.
"So far so good!" he murmured. "But what shall I do next?"
This question was soon decided. There was another tree close at
band, but further from the house than the first, and into this he
leaped, and made his way across it to where a drooping branch fell
directly over a heavy clump of bushes. Down this branch went Tom
and dropped into the bushes as silently as a cat.
It must be confessed that the boy's heart was now thumping like a
steam engine. What if he was discovered? He was afraid that his
enemies would kill him on the spot.
He looked around and saw the horses tethered among the bushes a
hundred feet further on. If only he could gain the animals he felt
that escape would be almost secured.
He crawled along the ground like a snake. Once he had to go around
a big rock and actually tear his way among the thorns, which
scratched him in a dozen places. But behind the rock the shelter
was greater, and unable to stand the suspense any longer he set off
on a run for his horse.
The animal saw him coming and set up a low whinny of recognition.
Then all of the horses swayed around in a bunch, for they were
tethered close together.
This gave Tom another idea, and he not only untied his own horse
but likewise all of the others. He kept hold of the other lariats
as he mounted his steed.
"Get up!" he said sharply but in a low tone, and touched on the
flank the horse set off on a gallop, followed by the other animals.
"Hullo, something is wrong with the hosses!" he beard Bill Noxton
cry. Then came a rush through the bushes. At the sound Tom bent
as low in the saddle as possible and urged his horse to do his
best.
"They are stampeding!" came from Arnold Baxter. "Whoa there! whoa!
How did they manage to get loose?"
"The prisoner!" shouted Roebuck. "He is on the leading horse! He
has escaped us!"
"Impossible!" gasped the elder Baxter. "Why, I have been watching
the house--"
"No matter, it's Tom Rover!" interrupt Dan Baxter. "See, there he
goes--and he taking all of our horses with him!"
At this Arnold Baxter drew his pistol and the others also brought
forth their firearms. But Tom's steed was not a large one, and
while he crouched low in the saddle the horses behind kept his
enemies from getting more than an occasional glimpse of him.
On and on went the boy, the horses' hoofs clattering loudly over
the rocky trail. The men shouted loudly for him to halt, and
several pistol shots rang out, but no damage was done. Soon the
enemy was left in the distance.
As soon as he felt that he was safe for the time being, Tom brought
his horse down to a walk, in order that he might consider the
situation.
Where were the others? That was the all important question. He
had escaped from the men who wished him harm, but he was now no
better off than when he had fallen in with them.
"But they are a good deal worse off," he thought grimly. "I don't
believe they'll want to travel around very far on foot."
It was now sunset, and the youth felt that night would soon be upon
him. He did not know which way to turn, although of one thing he
was certain--that he wished to keep as far away as possible from
those who had held him a prisoner.
Presently he gained the entrance to a small wood, and as it was now
too dark to go on he determined to rest for the night. He tied up
all of the horses and tried to make himself comfortable at the foot
of a large tree. For a long time he could not sleep, but at last
he dozed off. His sleep was full of horrible dreams, and his
awakening was a rude one.
CHAPTER XXVIII
BILL NOXTON COMES TO GRIEF
"We've found him, boys! Here's the hoss thief, with five o' the
hosses with him!"
"Git up thar, young feller, an' give an account o'yerself!"
Tom did not hear these words, but he felt a sharp kick in the ribs
and gave a gasp of pain and surprise.
"Let up, Sam," he murmured. "Can't you keep your feet out of my--"
He broke off short and stared around him. "Wha--what does this
mean?" he stammered.
Three men stood around him-rough-bearded men, each heavily armed.
"It means thet we have collared ye!" answered one of the men
sharply. "Git up!" And he kicked Tom again.
"See here, keep your toe to yourself!" cried Tom hotly. "If you
are Arnold Baxter's tools you can treat me half decently, anyway,"
and he leaped up and faced the crowd.
"Who is Arnold Baxter?" questioned the leader of the men quickly.
"I guess you know well enough."
"Oh, all right if you don't want to talk. But let me say, young
feller, thet you have got yerself in a fine mess. Don't yer know
ez how they hang hoss thieves in these parts?"
"A horse thief! What do you mean? I am no horse thief, if that's
what you are driving at."
Tom's straightforward manner appeared to impress all three men.
But the leader shrugged his shoulders.
"Ef ye aint no hoss thief, how is it ye hev got all these critters
with ye?" he questioned triumphantly.
"I can explain that easily enough. That horse is my own, purchased
in Gunnison from Ralph Verbeck the dealer there. Those horses
belong to a set of rascals who captured me and made me their
prisoner. I got away from them, and to prevent them from following
me I took their horses with me."
"Hurmph! Thet's a slick story!"
"It's the plain truth. Do I look like a horse thief?"
"Not persackly, youngster. But two o' them hosses I know well, an'
they war stolen. My pards hyer kin prove it."
"Well, I know nothing about that. I have told you the plain truth.
You don't claim the horse I said was mine, do you?"
"No. But wot's this tale ye tell of bein' captured?"
Anxious to set himself straight with these men, who appeared to be
of upright character, Tom told the larger part of his story, to
which the crowd listened patiently. Then they asked him a number
of questions.
"I reckon you are O.K.," said the leader at last. "I know Jack
Wumble, and I know he wouldn't be attached to a gang that wasn't on
the level."
"I don't care what becomes of those horses," went on Tom. "Only I
want my own."
"You shall have it, lad. But you must put us on the trail o' them
thieves. It runs in my mind thet I know this Bill Noxton, 'though
perhaps not by thet handle. Thar used ter be a hoss thief down
hyer called Slinky Bill, with a scar on his cheek an' one tooth
missin' in front--"
"That's your man. The tooth is still missing and the scar is there
as plain as day."
"Then he's the gent as we wants to be introduced to," put in one of
the other men.
"I calkerlated he had left these diggin's fer good," added the
third newcomer.
"I can try to lead you back to their camp," said Tom, "although I
am not altogether sure of the trail. They were stopping at a long,
low deserted house, having a wide chimney, and with several big
trees growing close by."
"Dillwell's old overland hotel, I'll bet a hoss," cried the leader
of the men.
"It must be about ten miles from here," went on Tom.
"Jest about, youngster. Come, we want ye to go with us."
"I will do that willingly, if you'll promise to protect me from the
rascals. I suppose they are mad enough to shoot me down on sight."
"We'll see ye through--ef everything is straight," answered Hank
Yates, for such was the name of the leading spirit of the party.
The men had their own horses close at hand, and soon all were in
the saddle, with the extra horses bringing up the rear, as before.
The men had rations with them, and offered Tom some crackers and a
bit of meat as they progressed.
They were not a bad crowd, although very rough and stern, and it
developed presently that Hank Yates had known the Kennedy who had
been Anderson Rover's partner in mining operations.
"He war a good man," said Yates. "A banrup, whole-souled critter.
It's a pity he had to turn up his toes, with wuss men hangin' on an
never dyin', at all."
Half of the distance to the old hotel had been covered, when on
coming out on a little hill one of the men called attention to a
man and a boy riding along the top of a ridge, a short distance
away.
"It's my brother Sam and Jack Wumble!" ejaculated Tom. "Oh, but am
I not glad to see them again!"
He set up a shout and waved his cap, and soon Wumble saw him and
waved his hand in return. Then the old miner and Sam came forward
at top speed.
"Tom!" came from Sam, and he rode up close and almost embraced his
brother. "Where in the world have you been?"
"Been with the enemy," answered Tom. "I can tell you I paid up for
going to sleep on the trait!" he added half comically. The meeting
made his heart ten times lighter than it had been.
"Where is Dick?"
"Thet's the wust on it," answered Wumble. "Dick had a dirty
tumble, and we can't find him nowhar."
Of course the stories on both sides had to be told. Jack Wumble
could not keep from laughing when told that Tom had been mistaken
for a horse thief.
"Not but wot ye run away with them hosses slick enough," he added
slyly.
Dick's disappearance sobered Tom greatly.
"Can it be possible that he has been drowned?" he asked.
"I crawled down to the river, but couldn't find hide nor hair of
him," answered Wumble.
Soon all were on the way to the old hotel. As they drew closer
Yates warned them to be cautious.
"Perhaps we can do a bit o' surprisin'," he explained.
"Here comes Noxton!" exclaimed Tom.
"Slinky Bill, sure enough," returned Yates, and one of his
companions nodded.
Noxton was still fifty feet away when he saw them, and gave a shout
of consternation. Then he turned and tried to run away.
"Stop!" called Hank Yates. "Stop, or I'll fire on ye!"
But instead of stopping Noxton ran the faster. Seeing this, the
man of the plains raised his pistol, took steady aim, and fired.
Noxton was hit in the leg and went down in a heap, shrieking with
pain.
CHAPTER XXIX
LOCATING THE LOST MINE
While Yates and another of the men ran toward Noxton to make him a
prisoner, the others turned their attention to the Baxters and Al
Roebuck.
The Baxters were hiding behind a clump of bushes, but now, as soon as
discovered, they took to their heels, making sure that the bushes and
trees should keep them screened, so that there would be no danger from
a fire such as had brought down their unlucky companion.
"They're on us, dad!" groaned Dan Baxter, "Oh, why did we ever come
out here!"
"Silence, Dan," whispered Arnold Baxter. "If we don't keep still
they may shoot us down in cold blood." And then Dan became as mum
as an oyster, although his teeth chattered with terror.
On went father and son, down a hill and into a deep valley where
the rocks were numerous and the growth thick. Several shots flew
over their heads, causing Dan to almost drop from heart failure.
"I--I can't ru--run much further!" he panted.
"Come, here is an opening between the rocks," whispered Arnold
Baxter. "In you go, before it is too late. If they follow us, we
can sell our lives as dearly as possible."
Dan gave a groan at this, and slipped into the hollow. He did not
wish to sell his life at any price.
"Let us put out a--a flag of truce," he whined. "Give them
everything, father, but don't let them shoot us!" Every ounce of
courage had oozed away from him, for he had seen Noxton brought
down, and thought the rascal was dead.
"Shut up, you softy!" answered his parent in a rage. "Shut up, and
we will be safe. I'll never give in to a Rover," he added
vehemently.
Tom and Sam had gone after the Baxters, with Jack Wumble behind
them while the last man of the party turned to collar Roebuck. But
Roebuck was game, and fired at his assailant, who fired in return,
and each man was slightly wounded in the shoulder. Then Roebuck
disappeared in the woods back of the old hotel, and that was the
last seen of him for the time being.
The hunt for the Baxters was kept up until nearly nightfall. But
they remained in hiding, and although Tom and Sam passed within
fifty feet of the hollow, they were not discovered.
"They have given us the slip," said Tom, "It's too bad! I thought
we had them, sure!"
As soon as the search was over it was discovered that two of the
horses were missing. The several pistol shots had frightened them
away, and in the gathering darkness they could not be located.
The entire party camped that night in the old hotel, and Tom showed
where he had been a prisoner, and how he had escaped up the
chimney. Noxton was not dangerously wounded, and the men did what
they could to allay the pain he was suffering. Yet they had little
sympathy for him, for, as stated before, horse stealing in that
locality was considered one of the worst of crimes.
"But we'll take ye back to the county seat," said Yates. "And ye
shall have a fair trial."
"Take all I have, but let me go!" pleaded Noxton, but to this the
men with Yates would not listen. Early in the morning the party
under Yates set off, taking Noxton along, although the criminal
protested that he was too weak to ride. It may be as well to add
here that, later on, Noxton, alias Slinky Bill, was tried in court
and given a sentence of five years for his misdeeds.
Jack Wumble and Sam had brought along Dick's horse, and they now
took good care that the animal should not get away from them.
Where to look for Dick, however, was a poser.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Tom declared, "I'm not going on to
Larkspur Creek until he is found."
"Or until we have found out what has become of him," added Sam.
"He may be dead, you know."
"I reckon we had best go back to where he took his tumble," said
Wumble. "If he escaped he'll come back thar himself, more'n
likely."
This appeared to be good advice, and an hour after the departure of
Yates and the others they mounted and set off.
Less than half a mile had been covered when, of a sudden, there
came a shot, and a bullet cut through the brush beside them.
"Hullo! this won't do!" cried the old miner. "Come out of sight,
an' be putty quick about it, too!"
They rode into a patch of wood and halted. But no more shots came,
nor could they locate that which had been fired.
"One thing is certain, at least one of yer enemies is a-watching of
us," was the old miner's comment. "We'll keep behind shelter after
this." And they did.
It was hard traveling, and poor Sam was utterly worn out by the
time the trail along the watercourse was again reached.
"I've got to let up a bit," he murmured. "I can't sit up in the
saddle any more!"
"I shouldn't have pushed ye so hard," answered Wumble
sympathetically. "If ye--" he stopped short. "Who's that?"
He dodged behind a rock, and the others did the same. Somebody was
stirring below them, in the timber. All drew their pistols.
"If it's an enemy we'll give them as good as they send," said Tom,
and he meant it.
But it was not the enemy; it was Dick, and he soon appeared and
called to them. They were overjoyed, and ran out to meet him and
Slim Jim, his companion. There was hearty handshaking all around.
Then as they rested each told his tale. It was such a happy
gathering as is not easily forgotten.
"You couldn't have fallen in with a better man nor Slim Jim," said
Jack Wumble to Dick. "He's got the warmest heart in all Colorady,
he has!"
It was decided to wait until the morrow before setting out again
for Larkspur Creek. Slim Jim agreed to accompany them, for to the
hunter and trapper one spot in the mountains was about as good as
another.
"An' I'll help ye keep an eye open for them Baxters," said the old
hunter.
A good night's rest did wonders for all hands, and they were
stirring bright and early. Slim Jim knew every foot of the way,
and he told Wumble of a short cut to the creek which was even
better to travel than the short trail the old miner had selected.
For two days the party went on, over hills and mountains and across
marvelous canyons and valleys, thick with pines and firs. The boys
had never seen such scenery, and for the time being their enemies
were forgotten.
Late in the afternoon of the second day they came out on the side
of a low mountain which overlooked Larkspur Creek.
"Here we are at the Larkspur at last," cried Jack Wumble.
"And how far still to Kennedy's claim, do you think?" asked Dick
eagerly.
"Not more than two or three miles. We'll have to hunt up the
landmarks," answered the old miner, but hunting landmarks had to be
deferred to the next day. Then they set about it in earnest, and
by noon they were on the same ground which Anderson Rover's mining
partner had traveled so many years before.
They were trying to put down the first of their stakes when a
pistol shot rang out, and Dick received a slight wound in the hand.
Looking up the mountain side they saw Arnold Baxter's savage face
gazing down at them. Behind the father was his son Dan, and close
by stood Roebuck. Evidently their enemies meant to fight for the
possession of the mine to the bitter end.
CHAPTER XXX
THE LANDSLIDE--CONCLUSION
"Dick, are you badly hurt?" cried Tom.
"No--it's only a scratch. But it was a close call."
"To cover!" came from Jack Wumble. "Quick, all of you!"
There was no need to call out, for all realized that they were in a
dangerous position. It was Arnold Baxter who fired on Dick. Now
Tom fired in return, and so true was his aim that the elder Baxter
was hit in the left shoulder.
As soon as our friends were under cover they held a council of war.
"We ought to round 'em up," muttered Jack Wumble. "Don't you think
so, Jim?"
"I am with ye on it," answered the old trapper. "We air five to
three, although one o' the crowd is wounded."
"It's not much--only a scratch," said Dick, as he showed the wound.
"Yes, let us surround them if we can. Anyway, it will be better if
we get on the high ground above them. It's useless to think of
staking off the claim while they are in the vicinity. They'll pull
up our stakes, and shoot us in the bargain."
Their talk was interrupted by a crashing of the bushes, and looking
up they saw that their enemies were beginning to roll rocks down
toward them. One rock, weighing several tons, tumbled within two
yards of them.
"All right, we'll try some o' that when we're on top," said Slim
Jim.
It had threatened rain, and now the drops began to come down, at
first scatteringly, and then in a steady downpour. In this rain
they moved off through the brush, leading their horses and
following the old hunter, who knew more of the old Indian trails
than did even Jack Wumble.
It was necessary to make a long detour, for the rocks at one point
were so steep that mounting them was all out of the question. This
took them an eighth of a mile to the northward of the claim.
It was now raining so hard that the water seemed to come down in
sheets, and they felt compelled to seek temporary shelter. It had
also begun to lightning, and the thunder roared and rumbled among
the mountains in a manner that was deafening.
"This is about as bad as that tornado we encountered in Africa,"
observed Sam, as he crouched close to his brothers. "Don't you
remember it and how the lightning struck that baobab tree?"
Yes, both remembered it well. "It was awful," said Tom. "I hope
the lightning doesn't come near us here."
If anything, the rain now came down heavier than before, until Jack
Wumble declared it to be the greatest downpour he had ever
witnessed in that section of the country. The water leaped over
the rocks in tiny waterfalls, and soon Larkspur Creek became a
raging torrent. The sky was inky black, and they could not see a
dozen paces in any direction.
Suddenly a strange rumble reached their ears, a rumble that made
both Wumble and Slim Jim turn pale and look at each other with
faces full of fear. The rumble rose and fell, shaking the earth
beneath them, and mingling with a grinding and crashing and ripping
that seemed to strike each one to the very heart.
"What is it? The end of the world?" gasped Sam.
"A landslide," answered Wumble. "Please God, it doesn't come this
way!"
They waited, and the next half-minute seemed an eternity. The
ground continued to tremble beneath them, and the rumble kept
coming closer and closer. "We are doomed!" wailed Tom, but then
the rumble and crashing passed them by and was slowly lost in the
distance, until with one last crash it came to a sudden end.
"It's over!" said Slim Jim. "Thank Heaven, we escaped it!"
"You are sure it was a landslide?" asked Dick, when he felt able to
speak.
"Yes, my lad, and a putty big one, too. Somewhar along this
mountain side you will find a furrow cut down to the creek, an'
find thet tons an' tons o' stone and dirt have slid down fer
quarter o' a mile or more. Perhaps the slide has filled up the
creek entirely."
The rain continued to come down, now drowning out every other
sound. But wet as it was, Wumble urged that they go still higher
up the mountain, to escape any other landslide that might be
imminent.
So up they toiled until a large table rock was gained. At this
point a second rock gave them shelter, and here they remained
throughout the whole of one of the most disagreeable nights the
Rover boys had ever encountered.
The storm and the landslide had driven away all thoughts of
surrounding the Baxters and Roebuck, but with the coming of morning
the skies cleared, and they felt as if they must do as originally
planned.
"Unless the landslide paid 'em off," said Jack Wumble.
"Do you think they were caught in it?" asked Dick.
"No tellin', lad, until we locate the slide."
To locate the landslide was not difficult, since it had passed to
their right. They soon made out its trail, which moved down to the
creek in a zigzag fashion. Sure enough the creek was partly filled
with the debris, and here the opposite bank was overflowed to the
extent of several acres.
"We may find some rich deposits down thar," said Wumble. "A
landslide sometimes provides a harvest for prospectors."
They moved on cautiously until they came to the spot where the
Baxters and Roebuck had been seen last. Here the landslide had
been at its worst, and rocks and trees had been torn up and cast
down as by a giant's hand. Not a trace of the enemy was to be
discovered, until Jack Wumble at last made out a part of a man's
coat lying a hundred feet away. They ran to the spot, and soon
uncovered the lifeless form of Roebuck. The man had been literally
mauled to death by the fury of the elements.
"Poor fellow!" murmured Tom, as he gazed at the remains. "It was a
dreadful death to die!"
"Yes, and he probably wasn't prepared for it," said Dick soberly.
"I wonder if the Baxters were caught, too?"
"More'n likely," put in Wumble. "Look, here is a man's hat."
"Arnold Baxter's hat," cried Tom. "I noted it particularly when I
was their prisoner. Where can the man be?"
"There are tons an' tons o' loose dirt just be low here," said Slim
Jim. "Ye see the ground turned over and over as it rolled.
Probably both o' the Baxters are under that dirt, mebbe twenty or
thirty foot down."
At this all of the Rover boys shuddered. Very likely the old
hunter spoke the truth. What a terrible fate for their old
enemies!
"Let us go away," whispered Sam. "I can't stand this any longer!"
And he rushed off with the tears standing in his eyes. The others
were also affected, and glad enough to leave the place, once and
forever. Wumble and Slim Jim threw Roebuck's body into a hollow
and placed some dirt over it, and then built up a little mound of
stones to mark the spot.
It was not until the next day that the party returned to the creek and
began to look up the Eclipse Mine once more. The landslide had cut
across this, and it was not long before both Wumble and Slim Jim
declared the ground to be full of good paying "dirt," to use their own
term. The claim was staked out to the boys' satisfaction, and then
Wumble staked out a claim just above Discovery, as it is called in
mining laws, while Slim Jim staked out one for himself just below
Discovery. All three claims ran to both sides of the creek, so that
no one would suffer for water when mining operations should begin.
"And those claims will yield us thousands of dollars!" said Jack
Wumble. "Boys, we will all be rich."
"Hurrah!" shouted Tom. "I'm glad I came West, after all."
"And so am I," said Sam. "Dick, what do you say?"
"I say hurrah for the Eclipse Mine, and all the gold it will bring
us," answered Dick. "Won't father be pleased when he learns the
news?"
Here let us bring to a close the story of the Rover boys' trip out
West. They had faced many grave perils, but one after another
these perils had been surmounted, and now, when success had finally
crowned their efforts, all the hardships were forgotten.
In due course of time the title to the Eclipse Mine was
established in law, and later on Anderson Rover sent out a body of
skilled miners to work the claim for all it was worth. It proved
to be as valuable as anticipated, and the Rovers were, of course,
correspondingly happy.
The claims staked out by Jack Wumble and by Slim Jim proved also to
be good payers from the start.
When the boys got home they found that the story of the Baxters'
fate had preceded them. Many folks were inclined to think that the
wrongdoers deserved the catastrophe which had overtaken them. As
nothing was heard of either father or son for a long while, it was
presumed that both were dead beyond a doubt.
But they were not dead, although terribly bruised and unable to do
much for themselves for a long while. The landslide threw both
into the creek, and when they came to their senses they were fully
a mile from the scene of the disaster. Here they fell in with a
body of miners from Canada, and these men took them to a settlement
still further West, where Arnold Baxter hovered between life and
death for many weeks. Dan recovered more quickly.
"It's the Rovers' fault," growled Dan Baxter, when he was able to
sit up. "I'll fix them yet."
He had still many plans for the future, and what some of them were
will be told in the next volume of the series, to be entitled "The
Rover Boys on the Great Lakes; or, The Secret of the Island Cave."
In this volume we will meet all of our old friends again, and also
learn what was done by the Rover boys to outwit their old enemy.
Yet all went well for the present. Randolph Rover had quite
recovered, so the boys' Aunt Martha was happy. Anderson Rover
could now walk around again as well as ever.
"Never saw such boys in my life!" declared Martha Rover. "No
matter what scrape they get into, they always come out with colors
flying. God bless 'em every one!"
And to this, kind reader, let us say Amen, and bid each other
good-by.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Rover Boys out West, by Arthur M. Winfield