OFF FOR THE WEST
Eagerly Rick read over again the message that his mother surrendered to
him. At first he could not grasp it all, but gradually the import came
to him.
Uncle Tod had strangely, quickly and mysteriously gone out west, and now
he wanted Rick and Ruddy to follow—that much was clear at all events.
What he wanted Rick to do was still a mystery.
“I guess he wants me to help him, same as he did when he had trouble
with Bucktooth Slither,” suggested Rick, in answer to his mother’s
suggestive glance.
“But I thought that Slither went away,” said Mrs. Dalton.
“He did, so this must be somebody else,” spoke Rick. “Oh, Mother, may
Ruddy and I go?” he pleaded.
“We’ll have to see about it,” was her answer, “and talk it over with
your father. Of course there is no school now, and you always wanted to
see the west. But as for taking Ruddy—”
“Oh, I couldn’t go without _Ruddy_!” cried Rick. “Could I, old boy!” and
he flung his arms around the shaggy head of his beloved dog.
“Well, we’ll see,” was all Mrs. Dalton could say. “Where is this Bitter
Sweet Gulch, anyhow?”
“Out west—that’s all I know,” answered Rick. “Oh, boy! Out west! And
Uncle Tod says for me to bring another fellow!” he added.
“Whom will you take—that is providing you can go?” asked his mother.
“Chot, of course,” was the ready reply. “He and I are better chums than
any of the other fellows, though I like ’em all. But Ruddy will mind
Chot almost as good as he does me. I’m going over and tell Chot to get
ready.”
“No! Not yet!” commanded Mrs. Dalton, catching Rick as he would have
rushed from the house. “Maybe you can’t go, and there’s no use getting
Chot all worked up and then disappointing him.”
“Oh, I hope we can go! I hope we can go!” murmured Rick. “Don’t you want
to go, Ruddy?” he asked his dog. And if the joyous activity of the
setter was any indication, he most certainly did want to go.
“Hum,” was all Mr. Dalton said later, when told of the new turn in
events. “Well, at any rate, Uncle Tod telegraphed as he said he would.
But I’d like to know considerable more of what it’s about.”
“He says he’s going to explain later,” remarked Rick. “But if you let me
and Chot and Ruddy go out there, Dad, we could write back all about it.”
“I’ll see,” was all the satisfaction Rick got from his father.
“But when will you see?” persisted the lad. “Uncle Tod wants us in a
hurry, or he wouldn’t have telegraphed. When will you see, Dad?”
“Oh, I’ll send him a night letter asking for more explanations,” was Mr.
Dalton’s decision. “If it’s all right you can go.”
And in the morning, following the despatch of the night letter to Bitter
Sweet Gulch, there came another telegram from Uncle Tod to Mr. Dalton.
The contents of this message Mr. Dalton did not tell his son, but it
seemed to be satisfactory, for when Rick, with eager voice asked again:
“Can we go?”
The answer was:
“Get ready!”
“Whoop!” yelled Rick. “Now I can tell Chot!” and away he and Ruddy raced
to the home of his chum. “Chot! Chot!” yelled Rick. “We’re going out
west!”
“Who is? You and Ruddy?”
“Yes, and _you_! Oh, boy! It’s too good to be true! Listen!” And Rick
breathlessly told as much of the story as was needful.
Chot clasped his chum firmly by the hand and led him into the presence
of Mrs. Benson.
“Tell her, Rick,” besought Chot, with pathetic eagerness. “And then say
I can go, Momsie! Oh, say I can go!” he pleaded.
“Well, what’s all this about?” asked Chot’s mother with a laugh.
And when she had been told she looked a little serious and said, as Mrs.
Dalton had said: “I’ll see.”
However, not to go into too many details about the discussion of the
questions, pro and con, let it be said that finally permission was given
for Chot to accompany Rick and Ruddy out west.
And then, as you may well imagine, busy times began in both households,
for though, as compared to girls, boys are not difficult subjects to
prepare for a journey, in this case there was Ruddy the dog to be
considered.
“I don’t really see how you are going to take him,” said Mr. Dalton,
when the arrangements had been pretty well settled as to Rick and Chot.
“Ruddy will have to ride in baggage cars, and he ought to be put in a
crate. He’s bound to be miserable and he may get loose and jump out.”
Rick looked serious on hearing this.
“You’d better leave him behind,” suggested Mrs. Dalton.
“Nope!” declared Rick. “If Ruddy can’t go I don’t go—besides, Uncle Tod
asked specially for him.”
“Well,” began Mr. Dalton, “I don’t see—”
And then Mazie interrupted with a joyous cry of:
“Oh, I’ve just thought of something! They could all go out in an auto;
couldn’t they; Rick, Ruddy and Chot?”
“We could if we had a car,” answered Rick, a bit gloomily.
“It would be swell!” declared Chot. “But we can’t drive a car away out
beyond the Rockies. Besides, we haven’t any.”
“No, but Mr. Campbell has,” said Mazie. “He’s going to go out west in
his touring car, and Mabel Campbell was saying to me yesterday her
father wished he had some one to make the trip with him, as none of them
can go and he doesn’t like to travel alone.”
“Is that so?” asked Mr. Dalton, and some of the perplexity faded from
his face. “Well, if Mr. Campbell would take the boys and dog—Oh, but
it’s too much to ask.”
“I think he’d like it,” suggested Mrs. Dalton. “He’s always very
friendly with Rick and Ruddy. Why don’t you call him up and ask him?”
“Please do!” begged Rick.
“All right,” assented his father, rather reluctantly. “But it seems to
me like a pretty large order.”
However Mr. Campbell, who lived a few houses down the street, was soon
talking over the wire to Mr. Dalton, and the upshot of it was that he
readily agreed to take the boys and dog with him in his large touring
car. He was going all the way to San Francisco and Bitter Sweet Gulch
was not much off his trail, he said. He would be glad to leave the boys
and Ruddy there.
“Well, this looks better,” said Mr. Dalton, when he had expressed his
own thanks and those of the boys. “It will be a lot easier going by
auto, especially with the dog. Of course it may take a little longer,
but that can’t be helped. I’ll telegraph Uncle Tod you are coming.”
Rick and Chot did an impromptu war dance about the room, and Ruddy
joined in while Mazie smiled happily, glad that she had been the means
of solving what had been a difficult problem.
Reservations that had been asked for in regard to railroad tickets and
sleeping car berths were cancelled, and the boys began to go over again
the lists of things they were going to take with them. Mr. Dalton went
to call on Mr. Campbell to get the names of the different cities, where
stops would be made, so he could get in touch with Chot and Rick on the
way out.
“Oh, boy! Isn’t this the best ever!” cried Rick to Chot each time they
met in the days that intervened before the start.
“Couldn’t be better!” was the answer.
Mrs. Dalton shook her head and sighed once or twice.
“I’m sure I want you boys to have a good time,” she said, “but it is all
so mysterious. What is Uncle Tod doing out there, and if he was needed
why couldn’t he have been sent for in the regular way, instead of being
summoned by a cabbage leaf and a bullet?”
“That’s the best part of it,” chuckled Rick, “the mystery.”
“You must tell me all about it,” begged Mazie.
“We will,” promised Chot. “When we find it out ourselves.”
At last the preparations were completed, the boys’ bags were packed, Mr.
Campbell had had his car inspected and “tuned-up,” and on a fine, sunny
morning the little party started for the west.
“Good-bye! Good-bye!” was called again, and in the eyes of Mrs. Dalton
and Mrs. Benson were traces of tears.
“Well,” said Mr. Campbell, as he shook hands with Mr. Benson and Mr.
Dalton, “I’ll look after the boys all right—don’t worry.”
“I won’t,” said Mr. Dalton, and Chot’s father nodded in assent.
They had fairly started but stopped as Mrs. Dalton cried:
“Here comes the telegraph boy! Maybe there’s a message from Uncle Tod!
Wait a minute!”
Rick and Chot felt a sinking sensation in the region of their hearts as
they thought perhaps this might be a message telling them not to come.