CONCLUSION
“Let’s go to the hotel to the dance to-night,” suggested Nora, after
their supper.
“I’d like nothing better,” replied Grace.
“Some one had better stay behind to put little Chunky to bed,” sniffed
Emma.
“I guess I’m going to that dance!” snorted the fat boy belligerently,
but when the others laughed he grinned a bit too.
In the end they all went except Lieutenant Wingate, who had business
letters to write. He wrote steadily for half an hour, then paused in his
work to consider some question further. As he sat there a sharp whistle
attracted his attention.
“That’s a signal,” he thought.
When the whistle came a second time Hippy answered it in kind, then
crept silently over a rise of ground toward the sound.
“What’s the matter? They watchin’ you?” came a voice so close and
unexpected that Hippy had hard work to suppress an exclamation.
“Yes,” he said after a brief silence, during which he drew back a
little. “How are things?”
“They’re fixed. They—Say, who are you?”
Without waiting for a reply, the man turned and ran, disappearing in the
darkness. Hippy tried to follow, but it was a hopeless chase.
“Something queer there, but, after all, I don’t know that anything is
actually wrong,” reasoned the young man, and went back to his letter
writing.
It was some time later that Jim Badger came into camp, and Hippy looked
up to say:
“Some fellow’s been prowling about here to-night. He gave a peculiar
whistle. Did you hear it?”
“Me? No. Might have been some man from the hotel whistling to his dog.”
“Maybe,” and again Hippy turned to his work.
In a few moments the same whistle came again. The lieutenant put aside
his writing materials quietly and stepped softly out into the darkness.
He soon heard two voices, but pitched so low that he could not
understand what was said. So Hippy tried to draw closer to the speakers.
Just as he reached a spot where he might have overheard what was being
said, he stepped on a stick that broke with a sharp snap. Knowing he
could not now avoid discovery, he called:
“That you, Jim?”
“Yes, it’s me and a feller who says he’s lost his way. Ain’t a word of
truth in that, though. Now you clear out, you tramp, and keep away from
this camp,” the guide went on to his invisible companion. “You’re not
going to rob us!”
The fellow hastened away and Jim returned to the camp with Hippy, who
remarked:
“It doesn’t seem reasonable that a thief would signal his coming by a
whistle, does it, Jim?”
“Thieves ain’t reasonable. But I guess the feller did that to make sure
the way was clear.”
“Are you going to be around the camp, Jim?”
“Yes; unless you want me to do something.”
“I would appreciate it if you would take my letters to the hotel so they
will get off in the early morning.”
Jim took the letters and left the camp, and soon after this Hippy went
himself to the hotel to join the other Overlanders at the dance. The
dance hall was in a building separated from the main hotel, and as Hippy
approached this building from the rear of the hotel he halted sharply.
He then strode on past two men in the shadow of an ell to the main
building. He was sure he knew that voice, even though the words had been
spoken almost in a whisper. He entered the ballroom and was soon
surrounded by friends.
Among them were Colonel Scott and his party who had arrived that evening
by stage. After greeting Hippy warmly the colonel said: “Mrs. Gray tells
me that you are to set out in the morning to go along the canyon. We
expect to take that route, starting right after lunch. Perhaps we shall
overtake you and see you again.”
“I most sincerely hope we may meet,” was the cordial reply.
Shortly after this the Overland Riders left the ballroom for their camp,
there to pack and make ready for an early morning start. They were to go
about eighteen miles further on and pitch their next camp at Mount
Washburn.
On their arrival there the next day they located their camp near a river
on one side and a dense growth of pines on the other. The place was
lonely, and the guide warned them to keep a lookout for wild animals.
Their site was not reached by the Government road generally used by the
coaches, but the wagon road that led to it was in good condition.
They prepared and ate lunch, then spent the afternoon fishing, making a
good catch. This was well, for just before supper time a Concord coach
swung into view, and in a few moments Colonel Scott and his party
alighted and were cordially greeted by the campers.
“I’m glad you came just now to help us eat all these fish,” said Grace.
“Yes, do stay for supper,” urged Elfreda.
“We’re a big party to come in unannounced,” objected the colonel.
“No; you will only ease our consciences, for you know one ought not to
catch more than is needed for food,” observed Nora.
The coaching party stayed. It was late when they finally got up to
resume their journey. It was when they were about to get into the coach
that Jim Badger, a look of surprise and concern on his face, exclaimed:
“Say, you’ve lost a nut off this hind wheel!”
The guide set off down the road the coach had come to look for the nut.
Hippy followed after, taking a lantern as it was growing dark. The
lieutenant had gone but a few yards when he saw the nut lying in plain
sight.
“We are certainly in luck that you found this so soon, Lieutenant
Wingate,” said one of the party, as, the wheel fixed, they were ready to
go on again.
“Yes,” agreed Hippy slowly.
“I’m hungry,” announced Stacy, as soon as the coach was out of sight.
“Hungry!” exclaimed Emma. “Stacy Brown, you ate fish until, in spite of
the amount we had, I was afraid it would not go around.” Before Stacy
could resent this in words a shrill scream of distress came to the ears
of the Overland Eiders. This was followed by a volley of shots.
“That coaching party’s in trouble!” exclaimed Tom. “Come, fellows!
Better stay here, girls.”
Grace and Elfreda did not heed Tom’s advice, and before long the party
of five, all mounted bareback, were off down the road.
“It is the coach,” muttered Hippy a little later. “Hi! Cease firing!” he
yelled.
“Don’t shoot! It’s Wingate!” cried a voice.
“What happened?” demanded Tom, when the campers galloped up to the group
of tourists huddled at the side of the road.
“Matter?” shouted Colonel Scott. “We’ve been held up and robbed!”
It was Grace who discovered the rear wheel of the vehicle lying at the
side of the road.
“Driver, did that nut come off again?”
The driver looked as if he would not answer the girl’s question, but a
glance into Tom’s eyes made him say:
“Yes. The axle broke when the wheel came off,” he added.
Only one masked man had been seen, but the driver insisted that he had
noted rifles and revolvers behind the bushes, covering the party.
“Huh!” snorted Elfreda, at which Hippy grinned.
But it was serious business and Hippy soon sobered.
“Come, Tom, let’s look for traces of the robbers. The rest of you had
better not come. It might confuse the trail.”
The two made a thorough search near the spot of the hold-up and came to
the conclusion that only two men had been engaged in the work. Soon
after this Hippy, peering behind some bushes, picked up something from
the ground.
“Well, any results?” asked Colonel Scott when the searchers were back
near the coach.
“Nothing positive,” answered Hippy. “By the way, Colonel, did you tell
your driver to notify the park guards?”
“Yes.”
“Well, nothing more can be done to-night. Your driver had better start
back at once to the hotel for another coach. Meanwhile, the rest of you
come to our camp for the night.”
This was agreed upon and the large party lay down in some fashion in the
camp of the Overland Riders to get what sleep they could. Only Hippy sat
by the fire, eyes open. Badger tossed restlessly for a long while, then,
glancing at the wakeful lieutenant, turned over and slept.
At dawn the coach came rumbling up and was soon followed by four park
guards.
Colonel Scott gave the guards a brief account of what had taken place.
Meanwhile Hippy went into his tent and returned holding a hat in one
hand and a revolver in the other.
“What do you know about this?” demanded a guard sternly, whirling upon
Hippy.
“Don’t get excited, Buddy; and don’t give me orders,” drawled the
lieutenant. “Look out!” he exclaimed suddenly.
He need not have called out. One of the guards, also seeing Jim Badger
turn and try to get away, grabbed the fellow by the collar and held him.
“This hat belongs to Badger,” said Hippy. “I picked it up last night
near the spot where, I think, you’ll find their loot concealed. Is this
your watch, Colonel?” he continued, now holding out a handsome watch to
the colonel.
“It is! Where did you get it?”
“Same place.” This time Hippy did not call out, but jumped toward
Taggart, who was running toward the forest. He caught up with the
fellow, who stopped, reached out his foot and kicked viciously, landing
in Hippy’s stomach. Wingate went down, but a guard was not far away and
he caught the driver in a vise-like grip.
The guide and the driver were taken back to the settlement, and Taggart
confessed that he and Badger had been robbing the hotel and coaching
parties for a year or two, their work making it fairly easy to do this.
Back in Cinnabar they were met with the news that the car containing
their ponies had been broken into and robbed and that the railroad
detectives had found no trace of the animals.
“I’m sorry,” said Grace. “We’ll ship these animals home, as we’ll never
hear of the missing ponies.”
This attended to, the Overland Riders entrained for home.