ROBERT DELIVERS THE PRECIOUS MAP.
"There aint no train now, boss," said the hack driver, after receiving
his directions from Robert.
"I don't want to catch a train; I want to catch a couple of thieves who
want to make off with my valise," answered our hero.
"Did you forget the valise?"
"No, they have stolen my baggage check."
"Oh, that's it! Well, I'll get you to the depot in short order."
Away went the hack at a rate of speed which was far from agreeable so
far as riding was concerned.
But, disagreeable as it was, it pleased Robert, and soon the railroad
station came in sight.
"There are the fellows who are after my bag!" cried our hero, as the
hack came to a halt. He had espied Hammerditch and Le Fevre making
their way to the baggage room.
"You are certain they are after the valise? Perhaps you may be
mistaken," went on the driver, who was a rather elderly man and
cautious.
"I'll watch them and make sure," said Robert.
Taking his station behind the baggage room door, our hero saw the
Englishman and the French Canadian approach the baggage master.
"I am after my valise," said the Englishman, producing Robert's check.
"My son left it here a few hours ago. I have concluded to remain in
Muskegon over night."
"All right, sir," answered the baggage master, taking the check. He
glanced at the piles of baggage which littered the room. "What kind of
a looking bag was it?"
For the minute Hammerditch was nonplussed, as he did not remember
Robert's bag very well.
"It was--er--a tan-colored bag, not very large," he stammered. "I just
bought it, so I don't remember it--er--very well."
"I reckon this is it," said the baggage master, after a short hunt.
"Check 432,--that's right."
Hammerditch was about to take the valise when Robert came up and seized
it.
"No, you don't, you thief!" he exclaimed. "Your little game is nipped
in the bud."
The Englishman turned and his face fell, and Le Fevre was also
discomfited.
"What's the trouble?" asked the baggage master, in astonishment.
"This rascal was about to steal my bag."
"Your bag?"
"Yes, my bag. Don't you remember my leaving it here a couple of hours
ago?"
"I do."
"He got a tough to steal my check, and he would have had the bag if I
hadn't got here just in time."
"He said you were his son."
"I wouldn't have him for a relative," cried Robert. "Mr. Hammerditch,
you are a thorough-paced scoundrel," he went on, facing the Englishman.
"What, this to me!" gasped the schemer.
"Yes, that to you. You are a would-be thief, and I reckon your
companion is little better."
"Boy, boy! I vill haf ze law on you!" howled the French Canadian.
"And I will have the law on you," retorted Robert. "You wanted to steal
that map. You need not deny it."
"The bag is mine," said Hammerditch boldly. "This is a plot to get me
into trouble."
"I reckon I can prove my property," said Robert. "Have you the key that
will unlock the bag?"
"Never mind about that."
"I have the key," went on our hero. He produced it and opened the bag.
"I wish you to bear witness that this bag contains my wearing apparel,"
he said to the baggage master.
"Yes, that must be your stuff," was the answer.
"Here are my initials, R.F. My name is Robert Frost, while his name is
Oscar Hammerditch. There isn't a single thing here that belongs to him,
or that would fit him."
"What did you say about a map?" went on the baggage man.
"I have a map that he wants to steal, in order to lay claim to certain
lumber lands located near Timberville."
"But I see no map."
"The map is in my pocket, here," and Robert produced the document.
If ever Hammerditch had looked sheepish it was now. He realized that
even if he had obtained the valise he would have been outwitted.
Plainly this American lad was too smart for him.
"I'll see you about this later," he howled, and started to back out.
"Wait a minute, I want to give you a bit of advice," said Robert,
catching him by the arm. "If I wanted to I could have you arrested on
the spot. But I am not going to take that trouble. But this baggage man
is a witness to the fact that you tried to steal my valise, and if you
or that Frenchman ever bother me again, I'll have you locked up on the
charge, and I'll see that you go to prison for it. Now you can clear
out."
For the moment Hammerditch was speechless. He wanted to flare up, but
the words would not come. He grated his teeth, turned on his heel and
almost ran from the baggage room. With him went Jean Le Fevre; and it
may be added right here that that was the last Robert ever saw of the
dishonest pair.
After the pair were gone Robert gave the baggage man the particulars of
what had occurred, so that he might remember, in case the affair came
up later.
"I thought it was queer he couldn't remember how his bag looked," said
the baggage master. "I reckon, however, they won't bother you again in
a hurry."
It was now nearly train time, and Robert remained in the depot.
Presently the train came in and he got on board, and the journey to
Timberville was continued.
"I'll not forget my stop-off at Muskegon," he mused, as he sped on his
way.
The remainder of the journey passed without special incident.
Hammerditch and Le Fevre had expected to take this same train, but
could not screw up the necessary courage to do so.
Timberville was reached about three o'clock, and our hero alighted at
the depot, which was little better than a shed. As Mr. Porter had said
the village was small and looked almost deserted.
"I wish to get to Mr. Felix Amberton's place," he said to the station
master. "How can I best reach it?"
"It's several miles from here," was the reply. "Guess Joe Bandy will
take you along in his rig."
Joe Bandy proved to be the mail carrier, who drove a two horse wagon
through the lumber region of the vicinity. He agreed to take Robert
along for the usual fare, thirty-five cents. Soon they were on the way.
"Come out to try your luck?" questioned the mail carrier, with a grin.
"No, I came out on business."
"Say, you can't be the lawyer Mr. Marden is expectin'," went on the
mail carrier, with a look at the valise.
"No, I'm no lawyer," laughed Robert. "But I am a friend to Mr. Marden.
How is Mr. Amberton?"
"Doin' poorly. Those land sharks are worrying him to death. They want
to take his timber from him," answered Bandy.
They passed over several hills and through a heavy forest, and then
made a sharp turn to the left. Presently a well-built cabin came into
sight.
"There is Amberton's hang-out," said the driver, and drew up.
"Hullo, Robert!" came a voice from behind some trees, and Dick Marden
rushed forth. His face wore a broad smile and he almost broke the
bones of Robert's fingers, so hearty was his hand shake. "How are you,
lad--well? And did you get that map?"
"Yes, I'm well, and the map is safe in my pocket," answered Robert, and
then they walked to the cabin, while the mail carrier proceeded on his
way.
Once inside of the place Robert was introduced to Dick Marden's uncle,
who sat in an old-fashioned easy chair by one of the little windows of
which the cabin boasted. Mr. Amberton seemed weak and careworn.
"Dick has been telling me about you," he said, in a low voice. "He felt
sure you would manage to get the map."
There was of course nothing for Robert to do but to tell his story from
beginning to end, and this he did without delay, Dick Marden in the
meantime ordering the negro servant to cook a good dinner for the youth.
"Well, you outwitted Hammerditch and Le Fevre nicely," cried the miner.
"I would like to have seen them at the railroad station. They must have
felt cheap and no mistake."
"They are rascals, and I always knew it," said Felix Amberton. "But now
we have a hold upon them, for through Robert we can show up their true
characters, if it becomes necessary."
The map was examined with care, and Dick Marden announced that it was
just what was wanted.
"They can't go behind this," he said. "Robert, I think you have saved
the estate for my uncle."
"I think so myself," came from Felix Amberton. "But I am afraid I am in
for a long lawsuit, nevertheless."
Inside of an hour a hot dinner awaited our hero, to which he, as was
usual with him, did full justice.
The balance of the day passed quietly, and on the day following Dick
Marden took the boy over the timber lands.
"Would you like it out here?" asked the miner.
"I don't believe I would," answered Robert promptly. "I much prefer
city life."
"Honestly spoken," cried Marden. "Now with me it is just the opposite.
I can remain in the city a couple of weeks, or possibly a month, and
then I feel that I must get somewhere where there is lots of elbow
room."
Two days later a lawyer arrived--the one sent for by Marden and Felix
Amberton.
"The claim is all right," said the legal gentleman. "This map is good
proof, too. If they want to fight let them. You will surely come out on
top."
This was cheering news, and its effect upon Amberton was soon visible.
"When it is settled I shall not forget you," he said to Robert.
"Thank you," replied the boy, "but I am glad to have been of service
to you and Mr. Marden, my best friend. He helped me, you know, when I
actually did not know how to turn myself."
On Monday of the week following Dick Marden announced his intention of
going to Chicago on business, and as there was nothing to keep Robert
in the lumber camp, he decided to accompany his friend back to the
great city by the lakes.