TROUBLE AHEAD
"I remember now, I did write to Nestor, telling him we were about to
start back, and would probably cross the river at this place," spoke the
professor. "I had forgotten all about it."
"Well, here's your letter," said the postmaster. "Now allow me to
welcome you to our city, which I do in the name of the Mayor--which
individual you see in me--and the Common Council, which consists of
Pete Blaston, only he ain't here, in consequent of bein' locked up for
disturbin' th' peace an' quiet of the community by shootin' a Greaser."
"Glad to meet you, I am sure," replied the scientist politely, as he
received the letter from the dual official.
"What is the news from Nestor?" asked Jerry anxiously. "Is the mine all
right?"
"I'll tell you right away," replied Mr. Snodgrass, as, by the light of
the gas lantern on the auto he read the letter.
As he glanced rapidly over the pages his face took on an anxious look.
"Is there anything wrong?" asked Ned.
"There is indeed," replied the professor gravely. "The letter was
written over a week ago, and, among other things Nestor says there is
likely to be trouble over the mine."
"What kind? Is Noddy Nixon trying to get it away from us again?" asked
Jerry.
"No," replied Mr. Snodgrass. "It appears our title is not as good as it
might be. There is one of the former owners of the land where the mine
is located who did not sign the deed. He was missing when the transfer
was made, but Nestor did not know this, so there is a cloud on our
title."
"But I thought we claimed the land from the government, and were the
original owners," put in Ned.
"It seems that a company of men owned the mine before we did, but they
sold out to Nestor and some of his friends. They all signed the deed but
this one man, and now some one has learned of this, and seeks to take
the mine, on the theory that they have as good a claim to the holding as
we have."
"I should say that was trouble," sighed Bob. "To think of losing what
we worked so hard to get!"
"Well, there's no use crossing a bridge until you come to it," Professor
Snodgrass went on. "Nestor and his friends are in possession yet, and
that, you know, is nine of the ten points of the law."
"Then if we can't do anything right away I move we have something to
eat," suggested Bob.
"It's a good suggestion," agreed the scientist.
They had drawn a little to one side from the crowd of townspeople while
talking about the letter from Nestor, but, having decided there was
nothing to be done at present, they moved toward the hotel.
"I reckon I've got some more mail for your outfit, Professor Hayseed--er
I beg yer pardon--Snodgrass," said the postmaster-mayor. "There's
letters fer chaps named Baker, Slade and Hopkins. Nestor sent 'em along
with that other," and the dual official handed over three envelopes.
"They're from home!" cried the boys in a chorus. And in the glare of oil
lamps on the porch of the hotel they read the communications.
The missives contained nothing but good news, to the effect that all the
loved ones were well. Each one inquired anxiously how much longer the
travelers expected to stay away, and urged them to come home as soon as
they could.
"Now for that supper!" exclaimed Bob, as he put his letter away.
If the meal was a rough one, prepared as it was by the Chinese cook, it
was good, and the travelers enjoyed it thoroughly. As they rose from the
table a cowboy entered the dining room and drawled out:
"I say strangers, be you th' owners of that there rip-snortin' specimen
of th' lower regions that runs on four wheels tied 'round with big
sassages?"
"Do you mean the automobile?" asked Jerry.
"I reckon I do, if that's what ye call it."
"Yes, it's our machine," replied Jerry.
"Then if ye have any great love for th' workin' of it in the future, an'
any regard or consideration for it's feelin' ye ought t' see to it."
"Why so?"
"Nothin'," drawled the cowboy as he carefully pared his nails with a big
bowie knife; "nothin' only Bronco Pete is amusin' his self by tryin' t'
see how near he can come to stickin' his scalpin' steel inter th' tires!"
"Great Scott! We must stop that!" exclaimed Jerry, running from the
hotel toward where the auto had been left in the street. The other boys
and the professor followed.
They found the machine surrounded by quite a crowd that seemed to be
much amused at something which was taking place in its midst. Making
their way to the inner circle of spectators the boys beheld an odd sight.
A big cowboy, who, from appearances had indulged too freely in something
stronger than water, was unsteadily trying to stick his big knife into
the rubber tires.
"Here! You mustn't do that," cried Jerry, sharply, laying his hand on
the man's shoulder.
"Look out for him! He's dangerous!" warned some of the bystanders.
"I can't help it if he is," replied Jerry. "We can't let him ruin the
tires."
"This is the time I do it!" cried Bronco Pete, as he made a lunge for
the front wheel. Jerry sprang forward and the crowd held its breath, for
it seemed as if the boy was right in the path of the knife.
But Jerry knew what he was about. With a quick motion he kicked the
cowboy lightly on the wrist, the blow knocking the knife from his hand,
and sending it some distance away.
"Look out now, sonny!" called a man to Jerry. "No one ever hit Pete an'
lived after it."
It seemed that Jerry was in a dangerous position. Pete, enraged at being
foiled of his purpose, uttered a beast-like roar, and reached back to
where his revolver rested at his hip in a belt. Jerry never moved an
inch, but looked the man straight in the eye.
"Here! None of that Pete!" called a voice suddenly, and a big man pushed
his way through the crowd, and grabbed the cowboy's arm before he had
time to draw his gun. "If you don't want to get into trouble move on!"
"All right, Marshall; all right," replied Pete, the desire of shooting
seeming to die out as he looked at the newcomer. "I were only havin' a
little fun with th' tenderfoot."
"You didn't appear to scare him much," remarked the town marshall, who
had seen the whole thing. "You had your nerve with you all right, son,"
he added, to Jerry.
"That's what he had," commented Pete. "There ain't many men would have
done what he did, an' I admire him for it. Put it there, stranger," and
Pete, all the anger gone from him, extended a big hand, which Jerry
grasped heartily.
"Three cheers for the 'tenderfoot,'" called some one, and they were
given with a will for Jerry, as Pete, under the guidance of the
marshall, moved unsteadily away.
"I wouldn't have been in your boots one spell there, for a good bit,"
observed the postmaster as he came up. "Pete's about as bad as they
come."
"I didn't stop to think of the danger, or maybe I wouldn't have done as
I did," said Jerry. "All I thought of was that he would spoil the tire,
and it would take a long while to fix it."
"Yes, and we don't want to delay any longer than we can help," spoke Ned
in a low voice. "I'm anxious to get back to the mine and see what we can
do to perfect our title."