MR. JONES BUYS THE OUTFIT.
THE Americans came tumbling out of their tents just as Mr. Bruce, with
his companions, rode into camp.
"No questions, no questions, until we have had something to eat,"
protested the lawyer good-humoredly, as our little party crowded around
him. "We haven't had a bite to eat since yesterday noon. Just fill us
up with something hot and tasty and we'll talk on anything you name.
I am not going to say another word on an empty stomach, except to the
sheriff here, and that only to tell him that I've got an order from the
judge revoking that warrant he's got for all of you fellows, and that
he might as well trot right back to town."
"Not before breakfast," protested the officer vigorously.
"As these boys' counsel, I advise them not to feed either you or your
men," said the lawyer, with twinkling eyes. "They ought to punish you
by sitting you in the corner and letting you watch the rest of us eat."
"That would be inhuman," declared the sheriff. "Um, man, just smell
those fish frying and that coffee steaming."
At this moment Chris announced breakfast and all filed in to where
the little negro had the table filled with fried fish, quail, ham and
eggs, potatoes, hot corn bread and coffee. Silence reigned supreme as
the hungry lawyer and his companions attacked the savory food. When at
last they had satisfied their gnawing appetites the lawyer turned to
the sheriff. "You can run along home now," he said. "Here's that paper
I spoke about to show that everything's all right and proper. You can
leave the boys with me now."
"I'm not sure but that I ought to take charge of their pocketbooks for
them if you are going to remain here," said the sheriff, with a laugh.
"I'll promise that their pockets will be fuller when I leave them than
they are now," said Mr. Bruce.
"All right, I'll go then," agreed the sheriff, with a grin. "So long,
boys, and the best of luck to you."
"That's a true-blue old chap," remarked the lawyer, as the sheriff
departed. "We joke pretty rough with each other sometimes, but I like
him and I think he likes me."
"He is good and kind," Charley agreed. "Do you feel able to talk
business now?"
Mr. Bruce lit a cigar and puffed in dreamy content for a few minutes
before replying.
"You know my friend Mr. Jones here, I believe?" he said, with an airy
wave of the hand toward the little man whose face at that moment
looked as though he had just taken a dose of castor oil.
"We have seen him before," said Charley coldly.
"Mr. Jones is a remarkable man, a very remarkable man," said the
lawyer, and the lad thought he could detect a mocking note in Mr.
Bruce's voice as he continued. "Like many other remarkable men,
however, Mr. Jones has not until the present time been able to gratify
his greatest desire and ambition. Is that not correct, Jones?"
"Go on. You're doing the talking," said the little man grimly.
"That's so, I am," said Mr. Bruce, with the air of one who had just
been informed of a startling fact. "You're a man of unusual observation
and intelligence, Jones. Well, gentlemen, even in childhood Mr. Jones
gave evidence of what was to be his ruling passion in life. Before
he had reached the age of five, he nearly lost a finger in trying to
discover how his mother's clothes-wringer worked. Your mother did have
a clothes-wringer, didn't she, Jones?"
"That was before the clothes-wringers came into use," growled the
little man testily. "Can't you come to the point?"
"Dear me, so it was," agreed the lawyer. "I have got my facts all mixed
some way. Well, at the age of six, Mr. Jones was licked by his father
for taking the family lawn-mower to pieces to discover what made it cut
grass."
"We didn't have any lawn or lawn-mower," declared the little man mildly.
"At the age of seven Mr. Jones used to sit for hours by the railroad
track wondering what made the locomotive's wheels go round. At ten
he ruined a bicycle, a present from an uncle, by taking it to pieces
trying to discover why it would keep upright when moving but would fall
down when stationary."
The boys grinned, and the little man squirmed uneasily in his seat.
"Gentlemen, you have no doubt discovered by now what Mr. Jones' ruling
passion was, and is, namely, an almost overwhelming love of machinery.
I have not sketched out his entire life, but I have not the slightest
doubt that this passion displayed so early in life grew with the
passing years until it became a mania. I believe that, when Mr. Jones
came to own an automobile, the happiest hours of his life were those
spent under the machine with a monkey-wrench in his hand and his
clothes covered with grease."
"Can't you come to the point?" demanded the little man irritably.
"In just a minute, Jones," said the lawyer gently. "Now, gentlemen, I
have related all this to show you how natural it was when Mr. Jones
first laid eyes on your magnificent machine he became possessed of the
desire to own it. His whole heart and every fiber of his being yearned
to possess that marvel of cog-wheels, levers, and power. The desire
grew so upon him that he could not sleep at nights, and at last he came
to me and begged me to see if you would not sell out to him. I warned
him that you loved your work, and that nothing but a very high price
would tempt you to give it up, but that has not diminished his ardor,
and so I brought him out here to see what could be done in the matter."
The lads' hearts beat high with hope. Here was a way out of their
difficulties they had never dreamed of. They managed to keep their
delight out of their faces, however, for they realized that the lawyer
was playing a deep game, which they did not understand.
"I am afraid that you will set an unreasonable price on your outfit,"
said Mr. Bruce, "so I suggest if you will entertain a proposition to
sell, that you let me conduct the negotiations. I would hate to have
Mr. Jones pay more for the machine than it is worth to him."
The little man winced visibly and shifted uneasily in his chair.
"We would sell, if we could get a proper price," Charley said slowly.
"We are willing to leave the matter in your hands."
"Good," said the lawyer. "Now we can get down to business. Let's see;
the machine cost $12,000 laid down at Jupiter, I believe."
"I'll buy it for that," said the little man promptly, while our chums
held their breath.
"Not so fast," said the lawyer. "I'm not setting a price yet. I'm just
figuring up things. Twelve thousand dollars was the price at Jupiter,
but it cost a lot more to set it up and get it on the ground to work;
then, there's the camp outfit, mules, truck, etc. The whole thing
should be worth at least $18,000."
"I'll take it at that," said Mr. Jones quickly.
"Don't be so hasty," reproved the lawyer. "I am not half through my
figuring yet. I believe the lads here have done a lot of work which
they haven't been paid for yet."
"About $2,000 worth," Charley said; "then there is $1,700 coming on
work that Murphy did."
"That makes $3,700," said the lawyer with satisfaction.
"It's highway robbery!" exclaimed the little man excitedly.
"We haven't counted in the good will of the business yet, nor the
mental anguish my clients have suffered from troubles caused by enemies
to this road-building. I think $25,000 would be a fair selling price."
"It's blackmail!" shouted the little man. "It's nothing but pure
blackmail."
"Oh, no," said Mr. Bruce calmly. "You know you don't have to buy unless
you want to. But I haven't finished yet. The buyer would have to keep
on all the present crew, if they wish to stay. The sick ones would
have to be well cared for, and their wages go on just the same as if
they were at work. He would have to rebuild all the bridges destroyed
between here and Jupiter, and, lastly, he would have to pay to Willie
John, the Seminole, whose son was killed while working for the company,
the sum of $5.00 a week for life. That's my proposition for my clients.
Of course, if you do not want to accept it, Mr. Jones, you do not have
to do so."
For a few minutes silence reigned in the tent. Then the little man,
with a groan, pulled out his checkbook. "I give up," he said. "You've
got me where I can't do otherwise."
"Sensible man," approved the lawyer. "Now, gentlemen, will you please
call in your engineers and teamster? I've got some papers I want all
hands to sign." The rest of the Americans were quickly assembled in the
tent, and the paper signed, after which Mr. Jones handed the lawyer a
check for $25,000 and received the papers in exchange.
"Do you know, Mr. Jones," said the lawyer, as he held the check in
his hand, "this road building could have been stopped long ago if its
enemies had been smart enough to do one little thing?"
"What was that?" inquired the little man, with a display of interest.
"Pull up and destroy the surveyors' stakes," said Mr. Bruce, smiling.
Chagrin swept over the little man's face. "I guess I am beginning to
get old and feeble-minded," he said humbly.
"Not too old but to be watched, and carefully, too," said the lawyer.
"Gentlemen, I think Mr. Jones would like to retire and rest up a bit,
after his hard ride. If you could place a tent at his disposal, it
would be a great favor. I would suggest that a few men be placed around
the tent until one of you can ride in and get this check cashed."
"Think I would stop payment on it?" growled Mr. Jones.
"You might, you know," said the lawyer quietly.
So Mr. Jones was escorted to a tent, and a guard of Spaniards placed
around it.
Walter offered to ride in on the little man's pony to get the check
cashed and the money placed to their credit in the bank. Charley would
have liked to have made the trip himself, but his arm was paining him
so intensely that he decided to remain behind. Soon after breakfast
Walter rode away on his errand.
"I am thoroughly bewildered," Charley said to Mr. Bruce. "I don't see
how you forced Jones to buy us out at such an enormous price, and I do
not see any solution of our mystery. It is still a mystery."
"Same here," agreed Captain Westfield. "I must own up, I am as curious
as a woman about it."
"I am willing to explain now," said Mr. Bruce, with a smile. "It's a
very simple affair, after all."