“This,” the boy heard Sergeant Wilcox saying, directly, “is Mr. Richard
Miller, of Chicago. And this, Mr. Miller, is Mr. Clayton Emmett, also
known as ‘Clay,’ recently from Chicago!”
Clay heard the words dimly. The world seemed turning around upside down.
Here was the man he had been accusing of all sorts of crime, from simple
larceny to murder, on good terms with the chief, in that district, of
the mounted police! It was enough to turn the lad’s head.
“I thought—”
Then Clay decided not to say what he had been thinking, and the three
set out for the boat, passing DeYoung and the surgeon on the way. They
both regarded the officer with scowls and threatening gestures.
At the boat the boy lifted on his bunk when Mr. Miller approached and
extended his arms. The man dropped down at his side.
“Daddy! Daddy!” they hear Gran saying.
“I’m going out somewhere and have another dream!” Alex said. “I’m afraid
I’ll never wake up out of this one. That is the man who stole our boat
and the man who cut our anchor chain!”
“Not exactly!” said Miller. “I’m going to tell you about that, after I
return something I have of yours.”
He reached into a pocket and brought forth a packet of films and
developed pictures. The pictures showed campfire scenes, and back of the
faces before the blaze was the face of a tall man, looking out in
wonder.
“Where did you get them developed?” asked Alex. “Where did you get them,
anyway? We always thought Gran took them.”
“I did,” admitted the boy, with a smile, “and gave them to Daddy, and he
had them developed at Donald and sent copies to the police at Chicago.
See that face back of the others? That’s Daddy.”
“Then he’s one of the train robbers!” declared Case.
“But he was with them, and the officers have his description, as well as
that of Gran,” Alex insisted when the officer shook his head.
“Yes, he was with them,” the Sergeant said, “and so was Gran, up to that
night. They did not know what the three men were there for, and when
they discovered that they were there to rob a train they left them, the
boy making friends with you boys and going on the _Rambler_, and the
father getting on the train and being chased off.”
“But why didn’t they both come to us and tell us?” asked Clay. “We would
have taken them both in.”
“But there was a charge of murder against Mr. Miller,” replied the
officer, “and he did not know, you boys so well then as he has learned
to know you since that night. He couldn’t make up his mind to trust
you.”
“We know what the charge is,” Alex said. “We found the newspaper which
the robbers left in their camp.”
“Richard Miller was in Wells street the night Stiven was shot,” the
Sergeant went on, “but he did not do the shooting. That was done by
Blinn, Carr, and Snow, the three men you saw in the hills, the three men
who held up the train.
“When the shots which killed Stiven were fired, Mr. Miller got out of
the way, naturally. He saw the faces of the three men, and started to
the Chicago avenue police station to inform the officers as to their
identity. On the way there he heard a conversation between officers
which informed him that he was suspected, and that the three men were to
testify against him.
“All he could do, under the circumstances, was to hide, unless he wanted
to be held without bail pending trial. He made it his business that
night, with the aid of a Pinkerton man, to locate the three murderers,
and from that day on he followed them, hoping that in some way they
would finally betray the truth.
“He followed them to many cities, and finally, when they came to the
Rocky mountains he sent for his son, Gran, to join him. Together they
joined the robbers and sought information which would clear the father
of the crime.
“The chance to prove his innocence never came to the father until the
night these pictures were taken. They located the robbers on the ground
where the robbery took place. When he left them that night, after Gran
had gone to the _Rambler_, he knew that the train was to be held up, as
a previous attempt had been made on the freight.
“He knew, too, that the pictures taken by Alex would prove sufficient to
convict them, as their portraits are in the rogue’s gallery at Chicago.
He tried to warn the conductor of the train that took the boat away that
a hold-up was in the air, but the conductor wouldn’t listen, and caused
him to be chased from the train—as he thought.
“However, Mr. Miller rode on the train, wounded by the bullet, to
Donald, saw Gran there for a minute, and arranged to have the films
taken so that he might have them developed. It was also arranged that he
was to purchase a rowboat and follow the _Rambler_ until the films were
delivered to him. Then he was to go away and have them developed.
“Father and son had many meetings which you never knew about, and when,
at last, the films were delivered to the father, he was afraid to go out
with them, as the officers were looking for him on advices from Chicago.
So he took Gran away with him, and, after the pictures had been made and
Chicago communicated with, the boy returned over the mountains, though
his father tried to get him to wait and meet you here.
“Then I came into the game. Mr. Miller came to me here with the story
and the pictures. He also told me where the boat was and how soon it
would be here. Then he went up to Calgary to shave and dress up like a
gentleman.
“But he did not know that the robbers had followed you boys into the
mountains in the hope of getting the boat, of capturing Gran, and
closing his lips forever, for they had suspicions that he had gone out
to betray them. They cut the anchor chain, hoping that you would all be
drowned in the rapids. But it was Mr. Miller who caught the rowboat and
used it until he left for this point. It was wrecked after he left it.
Anything else?” asked the Sergeant, as he concluded.
“Why didn’t they tell us all about it?” asked Case. “What was the use of
being so sly about it?”
“If they had understood you all then as well as they do now,” the
officer replied, “they would doubtless have done so.”
“Why did he chase me when I was getting away with the pictures?” asked
Alex pointing to Mr. Miller.
“Because I wanted the films,” laughed the other, “and I got them, in
time, as you all know!”
“I wonder why the robbers didn’t kill us while we slept, if they wanted
us out of the way, instead of cutting the anchor chain,” Case puzzled.
“I should think they would have made a sure thing of it.”
“I wondered at that,” the Sergeant said, “but I think now that they were
afraid that the murder would be discovered and that they would be
suspected. Anyway such a crime as that, when the river gave up the
bodies, would have filled this district with police officers, and they
would have made it very uncomfortable for the robbers. They doubtless
thought, too, that the rapids would do the work satisfactorily.”
“And the robbers built the signal fire?” asked Clay.
“Yes,” answered the officer. “At least that is what Mr. Miller thinks.
They must have separated, and wanted to get together again.”
“When are you going out after them?” asked Clay.
“I have a company of men forming now,” was the reply. “You boys remain
here a few days and you’ll see them brought in. Of course the boys who
saw them in the mountains and reported it will get the $5,000 reward
offered for locating the robbers. That will help some, eh?” he added,
with a smile.
“We can get along without it,” Gran broke in. “I guess Daddy has enough
money for us all. He’s spent $10,000 on this man-hunt, but he had to do
it, or forever live under the suspicion that he killed the man Stiven
and bought himself clear. The only thing for him to do was to follow the
murderers and keep with them until he knew that he could convict them.
They will never confess. We can introduce in the trial THE CONFESSION OF
A PHOTOGRAPH!”
There were many little details which the boys had wondered over set to
rights that day, and father and son told many amusing stories of their
trip out with the films. Until they had confided the whole story to the
Sergeant, they were in danger of arrest.
The Sergeant went out with a dozen men that night, and in two days was
back with the prisoners, who confessed to the robbery as soon as they
saw their pictures in the group by the campfire. Their “mugs” were
already well known to the police, and they knew that the pictures
showing them on the scene of the robbery just before it took place would
be sufficient to convict them.
“You will have no trouble in getting the $5,000 reward,” the Sergeant
said to the boys, as they were getting ready to move on down the
Columbia river. “By the time you reach Portland it will be waiting for
you.”
It may be as well to state that the money was awaiting them at Portland,
and that they at once planned another trip, this one to the Colorado
river.
Mr. Miller went back to Chicago with the robbers, and Gran, although his
leg was still useless, decided to go on with the boys. The father was to
meet them in Portland later. He was a very rich man. Gran always
declared that only for that he would have been hanged for the murder of
Stiven!
There was sincere regret at parting with Sergeant Wilcox, for he had
greatly assisted in straightening Out the tangle. He promised to meet
the boys later on, but under what strange circumstances they were to
meet again they had no premonition at that time!
And so, once more, the boys were afloat on the Columbia! With minds free
from mystery and financial worry, they spent the long summer, up to the
first of September, making their way to the Pacific.
There were hard days and night, for the river is rough and wild in many
places, but there were also sunny days when the _Rambler_ glided over
the water like a duck in a fountain pond!
And Captain Joe and Teddy, the bear, enjoyed the trip as much as the
boys did. When there were campfires on the shore at night the two had
many a run in the forest. And Teddy always returned, to sleep with his
soft little nose against the dog’s hairy shoulder!
Alex caught fish. Case made bread, and Clay hunted up the history of the
country they were passing through and read it to them in the cabin after
the amusement-filled days were over. It was in every way an ideal trip—a
summer trip over one of the grandest rivers in the world.
“I hope,” Clay said, one night in Portland, after it was all over, “that
we shall have as much fun on the Colorado.”
“It was pretty serious sometimes on the Columbia,” Gran said.
“Oh, yes, but we enjoyed it, except the time a bear wanted me to come
out of my tree!” laughed Alex. “The Colorado offers chances for just as
much excitement. Don’t you ever think we are going to a pink tea party
when we sail down the Colorado, through the canyons and over the
rapids.”
Whether or not the trip down the Colorado was a “pink tea party” will be
told in the next volume of this series: “The Motor Boat Boys on the
Colorado; or, the Clue in the Rocks.”
And Captain Joe and Teddy? They were as happy at the finish of the
Columbia river trip as the others, and as ready to go over to the
Colorado and do it all over again!
THE END.