WHERE THE GOLDEN TRAIL LED.
Merriwell was not superstitious, and had no patience with any one who
was. He was forced to admit, however, that a strange coincidence had
developed in the matter of Ballard's dream and the discovery that had
just been made.
"Pink dreamed of nuggets as big as washtubs," said the marveling Clancy,
"and they were arranged like stepping-stones, and stretched from the
professor's claim to Gold Hill."
By that time, Merry had got himself in hand. He laughed softly.
"Yes, Clan," said he, "I remember. These pieces of ore are not nuggets,
however, and if the whole golden trail was raked together, I don't
believe it would come anywhere near filling even a small-sized washtub.
And I'll bet the trail doesn't lead from here to Gold Hill."
"In the dream," went on Clancy, "Pink saw a gang of toughs chasing the
prof along the row of nuggets."
"Which is about as consistent as dreams usually are. If Professor
Borrodaile wanted to get away from the toughs, why did he keep on his
yellow stepping-stones? Why didn't he duck aside and hide in the bushes?
All foolishness, Clan. Let's go and eat."
Making their way back to Professor Borrodaile's old lodgings, the boys
ate a hurried breakfast. They were thrilled with the novel idea of
following the trail of ore, and, perhaps, of overtaking the thief.
"The fellow, whoever he is," said Clancy, "may be able to tell us
something about the professor."
"Everybody we run across out here is liable to be mixed up with the
prof's disappearance," answered Merry.
Before starting, the two motor cycles were gone over carefully. Only a
small amount of attention was needed to put them in trim for the
morning's work. At last, with their canteens freshly filled and hung
across their shoulders, and the dwindling bag of rations secured to
Clancy's machine, they got clear of the old ruins and made their start
along the golden trail.
The scattered ore led upward and through the gap, then out on the
farther side and into the foothills. Nor did the trail, after getting
away from the circular valley, point toward Gold Hill. On the contrary,
it bent in the opposite direction.
"Here's where the facts knock another hole in Ballard's dream," said
Frank. "Gold Hill is northwest of us, and the ore takes us southeast."
"We haven't any gasoline to waste, Chip," remarked Clancy, "and if we go
very far in this direction we're liable to get hung up in the desert
with a couple of dead engines."
"The reservoirs were still when we left the mine, Clan, and I guess, if
were careful, we can make the round trip without having to walk part of
the way. If the golden trail promises to lead us too far, we'll hide the
machines somewhere and go over some of it on foot:"
The man with the burro and the leaky ore bag had naturally hunted for
the easiest way through the hills. His devious course bothered the boys
a little in keeping track of the pieces of dropped ore. The pieces lay
on the ground at irregular intervals. Sometimes there would be two
samples within three or four yards of each other, and then perhaps the
boys would have to go three or four hundred feet before they found
another. At such times the hoofmarks of the burro served as a guide.
"That thief is a mighty careless sort of a man," said Clancy. "It's a
wonder he didn't notice what was going on, and stop the leak."
"Strikes me," answered Merry, "that he walked, and led the burro. If
that was the case he wasn't in a position to see that the loot was
getting away from him."
For at least a mile the golden trail zigzagged through the foothills.
Finally it came out on a level stretch of ground, partly covered with a
chaparral of greasewood, ironwood, and paloverde.
Frank had been noticing for several minutes that the single set of burro
tracks had grown into a veritable clutter of hoofprints. A good many of
the prints were large enough to suggest that horses had passed over the
golden trail.
Merry and Clancy were discussing the additional tracks as they wheeled
out upon the flat bit of desert. They could make nothing of them, and
the anxiety they caused was presently lost in another discovery: They
had reached the end of the line of ore!
Try as hard as they could, not another piece of wire-gold ore could they
find. The thief, it appeared, must have discovered the hole in the bag,
at that point, and have repaired it.
Still searching, and hoping against hope, the boys presently came close
to the edge of the chaparral. Then, with stunning abruptness, a voice
shouted from among the bushes.
"Now, then, pards, make a surround!"
It was a familiar voice. Merry as not so startled that he failed to
realize that.
The chaparral shook and rustled with the movements of horsemen. In a
moment four riders plunged into view and drew rein on each side and in
front and rear of Merriwell and Clancy. The surprised lads recognized
the fellows at once.
They were some of the cowboy athletes from the Bar Z Ranch--Blunt, the
Cowboy Wonder, and his particular cronies, Ben Jordan, Bandy Harrison,
and Aaron Lloyd.
"Whoop!" exulted Blunt, his spirited black horse rearing under his firm
grip on the reins. "Look who's here, pard! It's Merriwell, by glory!
Chip Merriwell, the son of his dad! Merriwell, the silk-stocking
athlete! We're diamonds in the rough, pards, but he's cut and polished
until he dazzles the eyes. Well, well! What do you think of this?"
Merry was conscious of one thing, and that was that the present meeting
in the desert was due to chance alone, and not to any plotting on
Blunt's part.
"Whoop!" jubilated Blunt's three companions, put to it somewhat to curb
their restive mounts.
"Hold still, Frank, you crazy fool!" cried the Wonder, slapping his
horse about the ears with his hat. "He's scared of those chug-chug
bikes, same as the rest of the bronks. Whoa, I tell you!"
Blunt was a master horseman, and soon had his plunging steed steadied
down. Clancy looked up into the face of the Cowboy Wonder and scowled.
"You're the limit," he grunted. "I guess Chip will believe you've got a
yellow streak, after this."
A smile, mirthless and ugly, crossed Blunt's bronzed face. Leaning
forward along his horse's neck, he fixed his sloe-black eyes on
Clancy's.
"Yeller streak, eh?" he echoed. "What is there, in this, to make
Merriwell think I've got a thing like that?"
"Of course," flashed Clancy, "you touched up the professor's claim for
the trail of ore we've been following front Happenchance."
"That's a lie," snapped Blunt. "We're cow-punchers, and homemade
athletes, but we're not sneak thieves. We were on our way to a ranch
beyond the Picket Posts after, a bunch of Bar Z strays. We watered, late
yesterday afternoon, at the spring by old Happenchance, and we reached
the range we were bound for at ten o'clock last night: Couldn't find the
cattle we were looking for, and we started back an hour before dawn this
morning. We struck that trail of ore half a mile from here, and turned
back to run it out. Right in this place she petered out. While we were
thinking about continuing on to McGurvin's, we heard you two popping
this way, and took to the brush in order to give you a little surprise.
That's the truth of it, and you can believe it or not?"
"I believe it, Blunt," Merry answered, with a restraining glance in his
chum's direction. "Now that we have met you, possibly you can give us a
little information. We're looking for the professor. He suddenly dropped
out of sight, and we're anxious to locate him and get him back to
Ophir."
"Wow!" exclaimed Ben Jordan. "Do we all know anything about this
perfesser? Well, I reckon. Why, he's--"
"Cork!" shouted Blunt sharply. "You chaps keep still about the
professor. I'll do the talking on that point." He turned in his saddle
to face Merriwell, "We can tell you a whole lot about this professor of
yours," he went on, "but I've an ax to grind, Merriwell, and the
information is going to cost you something."
"I thought that was your stripe," sneered Clancy.
"Oh, you did? Say, if I wasn't so teetotally wrapped up in Merriwell,
I'd give a little attention to you, my buck."
"What is the information going to cost?" asked Frank.
"It's going to cost you a fight--with me. Sabe? If you can put me down
for the count, Merriwell, we'll not only tell, you what we know about
Borrodaile, but we'll turn in, every man jack of us, and help you get
hands on him."
That was Barzy Blunt to a hair. He never allowed a chance for a contest
with young Frank Merriwell to get past him.
"Give him his wish, Chip--or let me," growled Clancy. "He ought to have
a little sense pounded into that head of his, and here's an opening."
"If you're hankerin' fer a go, Redhead," called Ben Jordan, "mebby I
could oblige."
"No," put in Frank. "This little matter is between Blunt and me. We've
got the center of the stage, and were going to keep it. The rest of you
can look on." He turned to the Cowboy Wonder. "Sparring is all right,
Blunt," he continued, "but, if it is all the same to you, why not
settle, the matter catch as catch can? I have already taken one fall
out, of you, but you have always claimed you could have turned the
tables on me if the bout hadn't been interrupted."
"I'm agreeable!" answered Blunt cheerily. "Best two out of three," he
added, slipping out of his saddle and handing his reins to Randy
Harrison. "Hitch, pards, and gather 'round. A diamond in the rough is
going up against this polished article from the East. Watch me juggle
with him." He threw up his head and roared in a kind of chant: "I'm
Barzy Blunt, of the Bar Z Ranch, known to fame as the Cowboy Wonder!
Whoop!"
"Whoop!" howled Blunt's three companions, leading the horses back toward
the chaparral.
Frank had already begun to strip to the gymnasium clothes which he wore
beneath his ordinary apparel as under garments. His sleeveless shirt he
took off as well, thus matching the Wonder who was also stripping to the
buff.
Merry knew that the cowboys would play fair, as they understood the
word. They showed their sportsmanlike spirit by agreeing that Clancy
should act as referee.
"If you're ready," said Clancy, "get busy!"
Warily the two wrestlers faced each other. Again, as in the relay
Marathon, Merry was contesting with Blunt for the benefit of Borrodaile.
And Merry, although the Wonder was a quick and powerful antagonist, was
determined to win, and to do it handily.