The boys talked over the possibility of King having the third paper for
a long time. They could not see how the deputy had been able to secure
it, if he had done so, unless he had discovered it in the cellar, which
seemed to them to be highly improbable.
“That uncle of yours must have been a quaint old chap,” Clay said,
laughingly. “How, for instance, did he know that you would ever find the
bonds in the strong room?”
“I’m sure that he left a paper somewhere which tells about them,” was
the boy’s reply. “Perhaps this third paper will unravel the whole
mystery. Uncle told us about some papers the last time we saw him at the
shack in the Grand Canyon, but he did not tell us where they were. He
said we would find them after he was dead. I believe that all the papers
were left in a letter for us, and that this man Trumbull stole it.”
“How do you account for his having a chance to get them?”
“He was there, in the canyon, living near Uncle, when the latter
died—suddenly and alone, and was the first one there, the others say. It
is said, too, that a letter was left for us, and that it disappeared. I
knew Trumbull to be a thief, because he salted a mine and sold it, so I
naturally suspected him of taking the letter. This is how I came to get
the two papers and the money!”
“How did you come to find Trumbull in Chicago? All this is very
interesting to me. Wasn’t that a long chance—to find him at all?”
“We were in Chicago, earning our own living, when Uncle died. The people
living near the canyon wrote us about Uncle’s death, and about this man
Trumbull being there, and about the disappearance of the letter. I
thought the letter might have contained the promised papers, and so
watched for Trumbull, never expecting to see him there, though!”
“But you did find him! However did it happen?”
“After being in Chicago a short time, I got a position as errand boy in
a bank. I suspected at the time I got the place that the manager took
more than the usual interest in me, and I thought that he might know
Uncle David. That was before Uncle died, you see.
“Well, the manager took me on as errand boy, but after a time he kept me
working for him, and about his own private office in the bank, most of
the time, and often asked me about my uncle’s affairs, of which I could
tell him nothing, of course. I had not been there very long when Josiah
Trumbull came into the private office one day and laid a mining
proposition before the manager.
“I heard some of the talk, and discovered who he was, and also learned
that the mine he proposed developing was in the Grand Canyon of the
Colorado. He said it had been proven that the ore was virtually
inexhaustible, and added that he had come upon papers which showed him
where it was. The location was in the part of the canyon where Uncle had
lived.
“Then I recalled the talk Uncle David had had with me about valuable
documents, every word of it! I recalled, too, that that this man
Trumbull had been suspected of taking the letter! I watched him closely,
you may be sure! Quite like a detective story, eh?”
“It may prove to be one before the end is reached,” Clay said. “Go on!
I’m more interested than I can tell you!”
“Well, one day Trumbull came into the private office with a handbag and
set it down on a desk. He said he had drawn a little money and had
placed the papers he had spoken of with it. He added that he was going
out to the canyon mine to look into the matter.
“I stole that bag. I did not know that it contained a large sum of
money. I knew only that it contained the papers I wanted. By this time,
you see, I was certain that Trumbull had stolen the papers, that the
papers concerned a mine, and that he was about to acquire what belonged
to Tom and myself.
“I escaped, as you know. Just how I’ll not tell you now. I should have
consulted the manager, but ran off without doing so. That same day I
read in the newspapers about you boys and the _Rambler_. You see, I had
no money, save the $50,000, and I would not touch that, so I planned to
get to the Gulf of California and go up the Colorado with you! Tom was
crazy about it, and we started away. You know what wretched objects we
were when we came up with you.”
“But what got the notion into your head that the third paper was in the
wallet in the old cellar?” asked Alex.
“One day Uncle David told me of the old house being empty and in the
last stages of decay. We had visited the place with him, earlier, you
see, and I knew something about the treasure room. He had always told
me, though, that no money or thing of value would be found there. He
said that I must work for all I got of him.
“He said, though, that I might find some good advice in the treasure
room after he was dead. I did go there, with Tom, on my way to Chicago,
after we left him, but discovered nothing. I had even forgotten the
manner of getting into the treasure room. But when I found the two
papers in Trumbull’s bag I at once drew the conclusion that the third
paper must be in an old wallet Uncle had referred to as being in the old
cupboard. I was pretty sure it would be found there, as you know. The
only question in my mind was as to whether I should be able to get into
the treasure room and make a search of it without tearing the house
down. Tom did not know of this difficulty, and I never told him.”
“You’re telling me now!” laughed Tom.
“When we got to Yuma,” Don went on, “we were too busy dodging King to do
much investigating at the old house. Trumbull must have told King about
it, for he watched the place, as you know, and even dug there for
treasure. Tom and I got separated on the way across, and King saw me
while I was waiting for Tom to come up.
“When he did come, I left him there and went on down the river to
connect with you. There was nothing Tom could be arrested for. Now,
that’s how I got the money and the two papers, and also how I didn’t get
the third paper!” the boy laughed, “and so we’ll talk about something
else if you don’t mind.”
“But how are you ever to get this third paper, and how are you to get
the treasure if you don’t?” asked Case.
“With your permission I’ll go on up with you to where Uncle used to live
and search his old shack. The third paper may be there. Of course the
bonds are what Uncle David referred to as ‘good advice’ in the treasure
room. That was just like him, to call bonds ‘good advice.’ If I ever
discover the third paper, I have no doubt it will tell me where to look
for the bonds. He never thought of their being found in the manner Clay
found them!”
“Where did you ever hear anything about a third paper?” asked Clay.
Don took the original papers holding the drawings out of the belt and
held it up to the light.
“Did you see this line at the bottom?” he asked. Alex gave a start of
surprise. He had studied every figure and letter on the paper and had
seen no line at the bottom, yet there it was, plain to see when the
paper was held up to the sun. The line read:
“Worthless without No. 3!”
“There you are,” Don went on. ‘Worthless without No. 3.’ Josiah Trumbull
and King found that line, and they are, or were, hunting for No. 3, just
the same as we are! Now, if you boys think this mystery will spoil your
trip, just put us off and we’ll get to the canyons some other way, but,
still, we’d like to go with you!”
“I’m so seriously interested in the mystery,” smiled Clay, “that I
wouldn’t feel like making the trip, now, without you and the two pieces
of paper. How do you feel about it, boys?”
How did they feel about it? What would two healthy boys naturally say to
a mysterious adventure of the sort proposed? Hunting for the buried gold
of Captain Kidd looked like a summer afternoon game of marbles compared
to this! The Grand Canyon and a mystery! Marks on a rock, perhaps
thousands of feet below the level of the plateau! A missing paper and a
contest as to who should get to it first! Surely, no game could be more
exciting. And the boys said so, and all shook hands on the proposition,
after which they ate dinner and Clay went on shore to see about buying
gasoline, provisions and a small rowboat.
He returned just before nightfall, perspiring with the heat of the
desert sun, and the articles he had bought were soon on board.
“I saw the last of King,” he reported. “At least the last of him for
some days to come, as he took train for Phoenix. He’s a good sort, is
King, but if he thinks his conscience will hurt if he doesn’t know more
about the secrets of the Grand Canyon, he’ll hire a motor boat and
follow us. I imagine he has telegraphed to Trumbull, for I saw him
waiting at the office for a message. I heard him tell the clerk in the
office to query Chicago.”
“Good luck to him!” laughed Don. “He is loyal to that thief of a
Trumbull, all right, for he made us promise not to prosecute him if it
should be discovered that he had committed some crime in connection with
his dealings with Uncle David, also to restore the money to him if it
did not prove to belong to Tom and myself.”
“Some one ought to be in Chicago, watching Trumbull,” suggested Tom.
“Suppose I go? I can get there if the rods hold out! What do you say?”
“It would be a great idea,” Don agreed, “but we have had enough of
riding on the rods, and we have no money.”
“But the bonds!” laughed Alex. “What about them? How much are they
worth, Clay?” he added. “You handled them.”
“Something over one hundred thousand,” was Clay’s reply, “but there is
no proof that they belong to Don and Tom, you know.”
“That’s why I put them in bank,” Don cut in.
“If you think you ought to go back to Chicago, Tom,” Clay said, “I’ll
furnish the money. But what can you do there?”
“He can go to the manager of the bank where I worked,” Don explained,
“and tell him the whole story, and he’ll help. I believe that manager
knows more about this matter than he pretends to!”
“How did you manage to get into that bank in the first place?” asked
Alex. “It ain’t every street boy that gets such a chance.”
“Oh, I met one of the bank’s messengers one day, and he told me I might
get a job there. Odd, wasn’t it?”
Clay broke into a roar of laughter, whereat Don assumed a manner of
wounded dignity and walked away.
“Come back here, you foolish lad!” Clay called. “You may be sure that
manager does know more about this matter than he pretends to know! The
chances are that he had been keeping track of you for a long time, just
to see what kind of a boy you were!”
“Then why didn’t he help me?” asked Don.
“How do you know what your uncle told him to do? I reckon this Uncle
David of yours knew what he was about! He didn’t want you and Tom
spoiled by inheriting a lot of money! He wanted you to dig it up!”
“Yes,” replied Don, mournfully, “and I guess he buried it so deep that
no one will ever be able to dig it up!”
“Anyway, you two boys have shown the proper spirit,” Case said, “and
that ought to count for much. And you have the bonds!”
So it was arranged that Tom should go to Chicago that night and go to
the banker and tell him the part of the story he did not know. The
parting was a grave one, for the brothers were deeply attached to each
other, and there was no knowing what perils would confront either of
them before they met again.
After supper the _Rambler_ was speeded up the river for twenty miles or
more, “to get her out of the odor of trouble,” as Alex expressed it.
“Now,” Clay declared, when they came to anchor below Norton, with
Chimney Peak showing not far away, “we are going to have a night free
from boarders and troubles about money. We are off in good earnest at
last.”
“That’s a pretty tolerable old mountain,” Alex declared, pointing to
Chimney Peak. “I’d like to take a spin over to it.”
“You’ll stay right on this boat,” ordered Clay. “I’m not going to lose
any time hunting you up.”
“I won’t get lost in any cellar!” returned Alex, with one of his
provoking grins.
It was agreed that Case should stand guard that night, and the others
went to their bunks early, with the exception of Captain Joe, who took
his station on the prow and watched the slow-moving water with a
meditative air. Teddy tried for a time to engage him in a boxing
contest, but the dog declined with thanks and continued his inspection
of the river.
It was a beautiful starlit night, and Alex was too full of the old
spirit of adventure to sleep. He tumbled about in his bunk for a time
and then arose and peered out on deck.
Captain Joe was still on sentinel duty, but Case was actually asleep in
his chair! The boy was worn out with the excitement and worry of the
day. Alex did not disturb him, but sat down by his side and looked
longingly off toward Chimney Peak.
“Captain Joe!” he finally whispered.
The dog pricked up his ears and walked sedately up to the boy.
“Will you remain here and watch the boat while I go ashore?” asked Alex,
patting the dog on his head. “Will you, old top?”
Captain Joe looked off toward the mountain summit and made no rash
promises! He was a wise dog, and knew the ways of boys!
“It is just this way, Captain Joe,” Alex went on, talking to the bulldog
as if he understood every word, “it is just this way. Those sleepy heads
in the cabin, and this one out on deck, would sleep in the presence of
the pyramids! You know it, don’t you?”
The dog said that he did in a tongue which Alex understood.
“Well, then we’ll go ashore and see what that hill is made of,” the boy
went on. “We’ll take the rowboat and pay a visit to the Chimney!” It
looks pretty classy from here, eh?”
Captain Joe admitted that it did, and the boy got out the rowboat and
left the _Rambler_, the dog sitting in the prow with an air of being
necessary to the expedition. The boy and the dog saw adventure ahead and
were recklessly, foolishly glad of it!