HOLD-UPS ALONG THE WAY
The three men, Mr. Dalken, Mr. Fuzzier and Mr. Alexander, having
been fortunate enough to secure an experienced driver of their car,
now began to notice the scenery along the road to Montezumas Castle.
“I’m sorry we had to run away without the girls. How pleasant it
would have been to hear their exclamations and delight at these
wonderful cliffs,” remarked Mr. Dalken.
“You-all wouldn’t have had much chance to listen to the gals,
because my missus would demand all your attention, onct she knew she
could count on you-all fer beaux,” chuckled Mr. Alexander.
“Well, then, it is our lucky day that we got away as we did,”
retorted the shy bachelor, Mr. Fuzzier.
“I wonder what she will do when she finds out how we escaped?” mused
the lady’s husband.
“Ten to one she will be after us!” laughed Mr. Dalken.
The road was not in good condition, and the three men had not
examined the car before engaging it for this hard trip, therefore
they were not aware that the tires were badly worn. As the road
became rock and rutty, however, Mr. Dalken spoke to his companions.
“Seems to me the tires are not as hard as they might be,” said he.
“The one on my side, rear, feels as though it were flat, or about to
be so,” added Mr. Fuzzier.
Mr. Alexander opened the door to have a backward glance at the
doubtful tire. At the time he opened the door the car was just
running through a mass of gravel-covered road, and the wheels flung
the pebbles up with great force. One exceptionally large stone was
whirled and thrown backwards as from a sling-shot. It struck Mr.
Alexander square between the eyes with such velocity that he
crumpled back in the automobile as though shot. The only sound he
made was a grunt as he fell.
“Great Scott! What’s the matter, Alex.?” cried Mr. Fuzzier, who sat
on that side of the car. But he received no reply. “Not a drop of
anything on hand to revive him!” muttered Mr. Dalken, banging upon
the glass in front to attract the chauffeur’s attention.
The driver turned to see what was wanted of him, and at that moment
the car swerved the fraction of an inch. But that fraction was quite
enough to cause the wheels on one side to run into a deep rut. This
hard jolt sent all three men together in a heap. Poor Mr. Alexander
happened to be underneath, and Mr. Fuzzier on top. Mr. Dalken, being
between both, received no hurt, but Mr. Fuzzier struck his head
against the closed door, and soon a great swelling rose there and
closed his left eye. Mr. Alexander, being unconscious, could not
swear or complain against his tough luck of being the under one.
Mr. Dalken now lost all patience, because of fear of what had
happened to his companion and with this last mishap. He discovered
then, that he had not forgotten how to curse politely, and, once
started, it seemed as though he would never stop. Even Mr. Fuzzier,
with his head aching and throbbing like mad, and deeply concerned as
he was about Mr. Alexander, had to laugh.
The chauffeur sprang from his seat and rushed to that side of the
car which was down in the rut. Instead of coming to the help of his
passengers, he began to look around for a visible means of getting
the wheels up out of the mire.
“You dolt! come here, won’t you?” shouted Mr. Dalken.
“Got anything we could use to help restore consciousness to this
man?” demanded Mr. Fuzzier, shaking a fist at the driver.
Then the chauffeur found that one of his passengers had been
seriously injured, and he immediately feared they might hold him
responsible, because he thought it was due to his accident in
driving. He sprang upon the runningboard and peered in at the
crumpled little man, with fear plainly expressed in his eyes.
“Don’t stand there like a mummy!” called Mr. Dalken, “but open that
door and help us lift the man out of this.”
Thus admonished, the chauffeur did as he was bidden, and, in a few
moments, Mr. Alexander had been taken from the car and carefully
placed upon the bad road.
“I hope, sir, the gentleman hasn’t broken his neck, sir!” whispered
the driver, trembling in fear.
“If he hasn’t, it isn’t because of your careful driving!” snarled
Mr. Fuzzier, the swelling beginning to rise to the size of an egg.
At this moment the man discussed sighed heavily, and in another few
moments he opened his eyes and blinked dazedly at the blinding blue
sky overhead. At the same time, the three men, all anxious to help
their unfortunate companion, started suddenly to stoop over his
prostrate form and offer assistance to him.
What must be the natural result of having two men upon opposite
sides of little Mr. Alexander, unexpectedly bend far over the form
between them? Mr. Dalken and the chauffeur could tell any one after
that just what did happen. But the collision of the two heads seemed
to do more damage to Mr. Dalken’s forehead than to that of the other
man. Perhaps this was due to the fact that the chauffeur was a
hardened young man, while the New Yorker was soft from luxurious
living. Anyway, without going into the cause, it remained plainly
evident that both men, thereafter, bore the marks of the collision.
The driver’s head showed a great bluish lump, and Mr. Dalken’s
eyebrow raised up and caused an enormous swelling above the eye so
that it seemed impossible for the skin to stand more stretching
without a break.
Mr. Alexander now sat up and stared around. He saw two men glaring
at each other as though they would like to strangle each other; and
the third man stood with mouth open, watching the other two. He was
entirely forgotten—or to be exact, he was _overlooked_ in this
interesting scene.
“By the Great Horned Spoon! I got’a turrible smack on the head!”
exclaimed Mr. Alexander, lifting a hand to feel of the injured spot.
“You’ve got more than a smack there, old man,” retorted Mr. Fuzzier,
placing a hand under each arm and helping his friend to scramble to
his feet. “You’ve got a lump about the size of a football, that
will mar your beauty, all right!”
“But, say, Fuzzy!” gasped Mr. Alexander, in amazement, as he stared
at the man addressed, “what struck you, when the gravel flew? You
ain’t such a prize-winner in our beauty contest, either.”
That made Mr. Fuzzier roar with appreciation of the truth, and in
another moment all four men were laughing as though they had just
heard the funniest joke ever told.
“If we needed any disguises to-day, to keep those competitors from
recognizing us, we found them all right!” exclaimed Mr. Dalken,
feeling gently of the awful lump over his eye.
“Had any one told me this yarn—of how four men got swelled heads
over nothin’ more’n a bit of gravel in the road, I’d say, ‘come off
your perch, Mr. Lawyer!’” laughed Mr. Alexander.
“If I look half as fetching as you do, Dalky,” remarked Mr. Fuzzier,
“I’d wear a mask. You’ll frighten away the jack-rabbits, I fear.”
“All right, Fuzzy. Tell the chauffeur to find us four masks—there
is little choice between us, so far as looks go!” was Mr. Dalken’s
reply.
“If you gentlemen expeck to get to that cabin south of Sedona
to-day, we’d better hoist this machine out’n the rut, and get
along,” advised the driver of the car.
“Hoist! What can we hoist with?” demanded Mr. Dalken.
“Reckon we got’a put our shoulders to the wheel,” grinned the man.
“I’ll git under the wust end and jack the car, somewhat.”
Mr. Alexander had recovered sufficiently from the blow of the stone
to help with his hardened muscles. After much puffing and straining
of the four men, the automobile was pushed and pulled out of the
ditch. Then they got in again, and the driver started the engine.
“I was remarking, not so long ago, that I wish the girls might have
been with us,” was Mr. Dalken’s smiling remark. “Now I am thankful
that only four heads were batted in this ball game. If there had
been more of us, there would have been more aching heads.”
“Umph!” grunted Mr. Alexander, “I might’ve said how my blow came as
punishment for my foolin’ the missus. But that wouldn’t account fer
your heads!”
“No, it’s one of those strange freaks of nature—to have four men
traveling together, and each one bearing upon their foreheads the
mark of a misspent life,” laughed Mr. Fuzzier.
“Why not quote Scripture, Fuzzy, and say ‘the mark of the beast,’”
added Mr. Dalken.
“Because I must confess that I’ve forgotten all that I ever knew of
my Bible.” Then, as an afterthought, he added: “But tell me,
Dalky—how is it that you can remember so well, since your Sunday
School days?”
Mr. Dalken returned the quizzical look, and replied: “I may not look
it, but I will admit that I often find time to go to church, and
more times than I will tell you or the world, I find a verse or a
bit of advice in the Bible that does me a lot of good. Men of Big
Business can’t afford to overlook the Science to be had by referring
to the Holy Book.”
“Well! I’ll be doggoned! If you aren’t the last man I ever expected
to hear that from!” exclaimed Mr. Alexander.
Thereafter the subject was suddenly changed, and Mr. Fuzzier spoke
of the prospects of reaching the ranch, whence they were bound, in
time to take advantage of the Copper Company.
No unforeseen accidents occurred until after they passed Montezumas
Castle, though the leaking tires caused many delays in order to have
them pumped full of air. The road was not constructed of
rose-leaves, either, and the jarring and jolting of soft tires over
rocks and ruts made sore heads ache fearfully.
The unfamiliar appearances of the men with the black and blue eyes,
and the unusual excrescences upon the foreheads, caused frequent
roars of laughter from one or the other of the three men. And the
chauffeur came in for not a little of the ridicule because of one
prominent cheek-bone and half-closed eye.
The road from the Cliffs, where the Castle is located, goes westerly
as far as Clarkdale. Sedona, where the three speculators hoped to be
before dark, was located several miles from this road, about half
the distance between Clarkdale and the Cliffs.
The chauffeur, having had a painful lesson about careful driving,
decided it would be wiser to halt long enough at the Cliffs to
change the leaking tire, than to continue on and stop now and then
to pump it full of air. This took time, but the men assisted in
every way possible in order to gain time.
Once more they were traveling along the road which runs to
Clarkdale, and hopes were in the ascendant that Sedona would be
reached by sundown. Very few travelers were met that day, and when,
just before turning off the main road, to reach Sedona, a very fine
automobile was spied, like a tiny dot, coming from the opposite
direction, it attracted general attention.
The two cars turned into the Sedona road with but a few minutes’
difference in time—Mr. Dalken’s car led, however. As the chauffeur
found a good bit of road ahead, he turned and spoke through the tube
at his side.
“I know the driver of that car, sir. He comes from Williams, and has
been down to Flagstaff twice this past ten days. He had a man from
Prescott, who’s been looking out for some men to arrive from
Chicago, but they didn’t show up. I reckon Mr. Dunlap got tired of
waiting around, and is on his way back to the ranch where he hopes
to make a clean-up.”
“Do you know the man called Dunlap?” asked Mr. Dalken, giving his
friends a silencing look, when they would have exclaimed at the
surprising information just heard from their chauffeur.
“Only from hearsay. Jim—that’s the owner of that rear car—says
he’s very flush with his coin, and hired the car for a week. I saw
the man at Flagstaff the last time he waited there for the men he
expected.”
“Did Jim hear who the men were—the ones that didn’t show up?” asked
Mr. Dalken, trying hard to keep the eagerness out of his tones as he
spoke.
“No; but I overheard him ask the agent at the railway station if he
was quite certain that three men did not come from Chicago and get
off at Flagstaff. And the agent said he was sure! He also told
Dunlap that the only men to arrive at Flagstaff in the week, were
three from Ash Fork, but they were not millionaires, because they
were dressed like any other hard-working chaps—not a diamond or
spare penny to be seen.”
“You seem to be an observing young man, chauffeur,” ventured Mr.
Fuzzier.
“It pays to observe sometimes—specially when things are humming
right under one’s nose. Now I observed that you three men came from
Ash Fork, but I should not say you were hard-working men—that is,
with your hands. Your brains might work hard. I’ve done a little
amateur detective work now and then, and I’ve enjoyed it. If I had
to keep my comings and going dark, and should folks keep tabs on my
movements from Chicago on to a certain spot in Arizona, I’d buy a
ticket to Ash Fork and then back-trail to Flagstaff—as you three
men have done this time. Am I right?”
His three passengers laughed outright; then Mr. Dalken replied: “You
have over-stepped the line, young man. We did come from Ash Fork, as
you noticed, but we had no movements to keep dark. In fact, we
traveled with a gay and noisy party of young people, and stopped at
every town along the Sante Fé where there were sights to be seen, or
places to be visited. So, you see, it is merely a coincidence that
there are three of us, and your man Dunlap had been expecting three
men, also. Besides I am from New York, and Mr. Alexander is from
Denver, so there is another count gone wrong.”
“What’s your name, driver?” now asked Mr. Fuzzier, taking a pen and
address book from his pocket.
“I’m Bill Beldon, a native of Gallup, but doin’ business in
Flagstaff. It’s busy there in the summer season.”
“Well, Beldon, I’m going to confide a little secret to you and
surprise my friends here at the same time. If I make it worth your
while to help me out of this fix, and keep your lips sealed about
what you see or hear, will you stand by me?” Mr. Fuzzier winked at
his two companions for silence, and Bill Beldon was instantly
interested in this new development of what he considered a fine case
for a detective.
“All right, Beldon. I’ll take your word, in front of these two
witnesses, to be as good as a bond. Now, gentlemen, prepare for the
surprise: I’m one of those men from Chicago, but the other two did
not come. And I’m the man the agent Dunlap is after, but I do not
wish him to catch up with me. Now, then, if Beldon can step on the
gas and get us to our destination half an hour or so before Jim gets
there, I’ll make it well worth his efforts.”
“By the Great Horned Spoon!” exclaimed Mr. Alexander, winking at a
great rate, as he tried to make his voice sound full of surprise at
what he had just heard.
“You are the closest mouthed man for a friend that I ever had,”
added Mr. Dalken. “You never told me a word of this secret.”
“Why should I? I wouldn’t have told you now, only Beldon has shown
me that it is best to confide in the three of you. Well, Bill,
what’s your answer?” laughed Mr. Fuzzier.
“Oh, I’m your man, all right! I’ll sign my name to a paper if you
can manage to draw it up whiles this car is jogging over the road,”
exclaimed Beldon, eagerly.
“Look behind us, Dalken, and see how far away that other car is?”
advised Mr. Fuzzier. “And, Alex., you get out the box of lunch we
had packed for the girls—I grabbed it up and shoved it under the
seat, when it was decided that we start at once for the ranch.”
Mr. Dalken did as he was requested, but his report quickly drove all
thoughts of lunch from their minds. “That other car has caught up
with us—it is not more than twenty feet behind this one.”
Then Mr. Fuzzier caught the tube and spoke to Beldon: “If you let
that other car pass you, Bill, you don’t get a cent. I’m a fine
friend, but I’m a nasty enemy. Now get busy and keep that friend of
yours in the rear—better still, get speed up and run away from him.
I’d even bail you out of jail if you cracked the tires on that rear
car. Understand how important this thing is?”
“I sure do! And Jim can’t go back and say he made me take his
gasoline smoke!” retorted Beldon, starting off at high speed, the
moment a good bit of road was found.
Between Mr. Dalken and Mr. Fuzzier, the rear car was kept constantly
in sight—now it drew nearer, then Beldon forged ahead; then the
rear car would drop back, because the leading car would gain a long
lap in the race. But the end was not yet, since Dunlap was not the
man to lose out in a speculative deal whereby he had hoped to
profit. He now knew from Algy that the three men he had been
expecting had arrived in Flagstaff, but they had not registered at
the hotel, as he had thought they would do. He cursed himself for
thinking that three millionaires would travel to Arizona to inspect
a mining property, and wear clothes or gems to advertise their
wealth. He should have known better, he thought.
Another thing that Dunlap had done, which had been a brilliant idea,
was inviting the insignificant little heir of a fortune to tour with
him. Algy had accepted gladly, but he had no idea of the tortures he
would have to endure while on that trip. He had looked for a
comfortable, enjoyable drive along fine state roads. Instead, he was
compelled to endure jolts and jars that shook his frail little form
as it had not been shaken since his heavy-handed father had died.
Puny Algy did not like this method of traveling, but he had to go
on, because Mr. Dunlap declared he could not turn back, nor was
there any way Algy could reach a house or hamlet until the end of
the journey.
Dunlap had no intention of letting this member of the Dalken party
slip from his grasp, so he stood Algy’s whimperings, and tried to
soothe his plaintive begging to be sent back to dear Mrs. Alexander!