THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGE.
Frank was leading the way to the town corral, bent on getting his horse,
Borak. Blunt, who had leave of absence from the Bar Z Ranch, was
likewise keeping his cowpony at the corral. When clear of the main
street, Frank turned, to find Clancy and Ballard trotting along behind
him. He stopped.
“I say, Clan,” said he, “you and Pink are not in this.”
“If not, why not?” demanded Ballard. “This party isn’t so blamed
exclusive that Red and I can’t go along, is it?”
“You’ve nicked it, old man. The orders are for two, and no more.”
“Who sent the orders?”
“Give it up. They come through Dolliver.”
“Oh, Dolliver! Think it has anything to do with the robbery?”
“I hope not,” said Frank. “My biggest wish just now is that it has
something to do with Lenning.”
“Don’t you know that, Chip?” queried Clancy.
“I don’t know a thing about why we’re going out there. It’s a hurry-up
call, and no more than two are to come.”
“Then that settles it,” said Ballard. “Two are to go, and you’ve chosen
Blunt. Take your ride, Chip, but if you don’t get back in a reasonable
time, Red and I will get a couple of horses and follow you.”
“No,” Frank answered hastily, “don’t do that. I wasn’t to tell anybody
but the chap who came with me where we were going. You fellows just stay
here, keep mum, and wait till we get back--if it isn’t until next week.
Understand?”
“That’s a big order, Chip,” said Clancy, “but I guess we can fill it.”
“We’re going to Dolliver’s now,” Frank went on. “I haven’t a notion
where we’ll go from Dolliver’s, or what we’re to do. So long, fellows!”
Rather gloomily Clancy and Ballard bade Chip and Barzy good-by, and
wished them luck. The uncertainty in which Clancy and Ballard were left
was not at all soothing to their nerves.
Blunt proceeded silently with Merriwell to the corral. It was not until
they were mounted, and galloping stirrup to stirrup toward the Ophir
Mine on their way to Dolliver’s that Blunt allowed himself to talk.
“It was Dolliver that got you on the wire, Chip?”
“Yes,” Frank nodded.
“What sort of a powwow did he give you?”
“I told Clan and Pink practically all of it, Barzy. Dolliver said that
some one was just at his ranch and wanted him to telephone to me. It was
noon, and this person who wanted the message sent told Dolliver he
thought I could be caught at the Ophir House without any trouble; but,
if I wasn’t there, then Dolliver was to try and get you.”
“Dolliver didn’t say who the fellow was that wanted one or t’other of
us?”
“I asked him that, but he wouldn’t answer. He said I was to come to his
place as quick as I could, was to bring just one person with me, and
wasn’t to tell anybody but my companion about the message nor where I
was going.”
“Suffering cats!” Blunt exclaimed. “This has got me worked up a-plenty,
Chip. It’s a whale of a mystery, eh?”
“That’s what it is.”
By then, the boys were galloping past the mine, and the roar of the
stamp mill was loud in their ears. Their course carried them on beyond
the mine, and, as they got farther and farther away from it, the song of
the stamps died by degrees into silence.
Dolliver’s ranch was fifteen miles from Ophir. Frank and his chums knew
the place well, for they had made free use of Dolliver’s telephone,
several weeks before, when the Ophir football squad was in camp at
Tinaja Wells, in Mohave Cañon.
Dolliver’s home was entirely surrounded by a wild, unsettled country.
Close to the pioneer’s adobe, the bridle path through the cañon began
its course, separating from the road that was used by wagons freighting
for the Fiddleback outfit.
“You don’t think this can be any sort of trap, do you, pard?” asked
Blunt suddenly, while they were pounding along.
“Trap?” Frank laughed. “What sort of a trap, Barzy?”
“Give it up. If somebody wanted to get us into trouble, I reckon this
would be a good way to do it.”
“I don’t know of anybody who’d want to get us into trouble. Anyhow,
Dolliver wouldn’t. He’s a pretty good sort of a chap, that Dolliver.”
“You can bet your spurs on that!” declared the cowboy heartily. “I’ve
known Dolliver ever since I was knee-high, and he’s sure the clear
quill. You’re positive it was Dolliver talking at t’other end, of the
line?”
“When you’ve heard Dolliver’s voice once,” said Frank, “you couldn’t
mistake it for anybody else’s. Sure it was Dolliver talking.”
“The whole thing is so blamed queer that it sort of set me to
wondering.”
“We’re winding up our stay in Arizona with a lot of blue fire and
tremelo trimmings,” went on Frank. “If it’s going to do anybody any
good, though, I don’t see how I can have any kick coming.”
“You’d like a heap to see Lenning and the colonel on good terms before
you leave, wouldn’t you?”
“Nothing would suit me better, Barzy.”
“What luck did you have with the colonel at the golf grounds?”
“None at all. He’s bitter against Lenning.”
“Reckon I told you we’d have our trouble for our pains if we tried to
put in a good word for Lenning, didn’t I? Hawtrey is a crabbed old
proposition, and when he fastens himself to an idea you can’t pry him
loose with a crowbar. It may be a fool idea, too, but that don’t count.”
“He said he’d like to oblige me by being friends with Lenning, but that
I was asking him to break through a principle--which was something he
wouldn’t do for anybody.”
“The colonel doesn’t take any stock in Lenning’s trying to act square
with everybody. He’d rather watch a game of baseball than eat, but he’d
never let himself get carried away to the extent that he’d overlook a
grouch or forget an injury. He’s a pretty fine old fellow, too, if you
come at him on the right side.”
Talking occasionally, but more often pounding along the trail in
silence, the boys at last came to Dolliver’s lonely little cabin. They
had hardly drawn rein before the rancher stepped through his front door.
“Put up yore critters, boys,” said he, “an’ then come into the house.
It won’t take me long to tell ye what I left out in palavering over the
phone.”
With that, Dolliver stepped back through his front door.
“Pretty short about it,” remarked Frank.
“He’s worked up about something,” said Blunt. “He hasn’t any time for
the extra frills when he’s bothered like that.”
They rode around the cabin to the corral, stripped the riding gear from
their horses, and turned the animals into the small inclosure. A moment
later, they were inside the house, occupying a couple of chairs and
facing the rancher.
Dolliver had his pipe going, and his eyes were glittering strangely.
“Reckon ye’re some s’prised to be brought out here like this, eh?” he
asked.
“Well, a little,” Frank acknowledged.
“Why’d ye come on such scant information?”
“Mainly because you gave us the information, Dolliver.”
“That’s you!” said Dolliver, with something like a cackle in his hairy
throat. “Merriwell, ye’re plumb queer. I figgered that out some weeks
back, when ye was up to Tinaja Wells, in camp. When a feller does ye
dirt, ye don’t allers hide out in the bresh with a gun and wait fer him
to come trompin’ by. Not you! Ye lay fer him with the glad hand, if
he’ll only give ye half a chance. Blunt knows that,” he added
significantly.
The red leaped into the cowboy’s face, and then slowly faded.
“I was a fool,” the cowboy grunted. “Chip didn’t lay for me with the
glad hand, either--not so you could notice. He licked me good and
proper, right over there in Mohave Cañon. I needed the trimming.”
“Keno! And ye got what ye needed, Barzy. Ever since then ye’ve been
purty sensible.” Again a smothered chuckle sounded in the rancher’s
tanned throat. “Merriwell,” he continued, smoothing down the fire in his
pipe with his thumb, “I hear ye’re purty soon to leave these parts, but
I want to tell ye that ye’ve done a man’s work since ye’ve been in
Ophir.”
“Don’t lay it on too thick, Dolliver,” Frank laughed. “I’ve made a few
friends down this way, I guess, but they had as much to do with that as
I had.”
“Mebbyso, mebbyso,” and the wave the rancher gave his hand signified
that he had some opinions of his own on that matter. “But this palaver
ain’t gittin’ us fur on the road ye’ve got ter travel.”
“Who asked you to send that message to us?” Frank asked.
“Ye ain’t goin’ to know it till ye find it out,” replied Dolliver. “I
reckon that’s plain, ain’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so; but when are we to find it out?”
“Purty quick. I opine ye know Mohave Cañon about as well as the next
one, eh? Anyways, it’s plain to you betwixt here and Tinaja Wells?”
“I’ve gone over it enough so I ought to know it.”
“Correct. Well, I’m powerful glad ye brought Barzy along. Ye’re the two
fellers that chap asked for. ‘If ye can’t git Merriwell,’ says he, ‘git
Blunt.’ Fust choice was you, an’ next was Barzy. Ye’re to leave yer
ridin’ stock with me an’ travel up the cañon afoot. That’s all.”
“Where are we to go?” asked Frank, puzzled.
“Ye’re to keep goin’ till some un stops ye. I couldn’t tell ye a thing
more if I was ter be hung fer it. Better be movin’, boys. I don’t know
whether there’s any time ter waste or not, but I opine not.”
Without delaying further, Merry and Blunt left the cabin, crossed the
main wagon road, and struck into the bridle path that led through the
cañon. So far from clearing the mystery, Dolliver had only deepened it
by his few remarks.
“I’d like to know what we’re up against,” grumbled Blunt, as he and
Merry trudged onward between the high, rugged walls of the defile.
“I guess we’ll find out before we go very far,” Merriwell answered.
In this he was correct. They had hardly put more than a mile between
them and Dolliver’s when a voice hailed them from behind a mass of
bowlders at the foot of the clifflike wall on their left.
They halted, recognizing the voice that had called to them and yet
wondering if their imagination was playing them a prank. But they were
not mistaken. A form appeared around the edge of the pile of bowlders--a
form that they recognized at once.
“Lenning!” Merriwell exclaimed.