THE DRY MINE
Sam Rockford turned his head to bring one ear—evidently his best—to bear
on the black, tunnel-like opening in the side of the mountain. His
listening attitude was imitated by the others.
There were a few moments of tense silence, even Ruddy standing at
“attention” in response to a lifted finger on the part of Rick. Then
Uncle Tod remarked:
“I don’t hear anything but the wind.”
“Reckon that’s all it was,” said Sam, gloomily. “I thought, for a
minute, I heard the water coming back through the tunnel,” he went on.
“Is that what’s the trouble?” asked Mr. Campbell, with a more ready
understanding of western matters than that possessed by Rick or Chot.
“That’s it—yes, sir,” answered Uncle Tod, and this time his voice was
almost as gloomy as that of Sam Rockford’s. “We’re up against a dry
mine, and the ore is of such a nature that water is the only thing that
will make it pay. A dry mine—that’s what we’re up against.”
“But why did you tackle a dry mine?” asked Mr. Campbell.
“’Twa’n’t dry when we tackled it,” sadly observed Sam. “It was as good a
prospect as heart could wish when I spent my money and yours in it,
wa’n’t it Uncle Tod?” he appealed.
“It sure was, Sam,” agreed the other.
“And then, all of a sudden, the water petered out,” went on Mr.
Rockford, gloomily shaking his head. “I sent word to Jake Teeter to give
you the message,” he added.
“Yes, and Jake did—in his usual mysterious way,” said Uncle Tod.
“Oh, was that the message wrapped in a cabbage leaf?” asked Rick,
eagerly. “We’ve been wondering about that.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Tod. “There wasn’t any need of letting me know in that
crazy, old-time Indian fashion, but Jake Teeter always was that way—he
never comes right out and says anything straight. If he wanted to let
you know he’d been to the post office and got a letter for you, and you
happened to be in with a crowd of others, what do you reckon Jake’d do?”
asked Uncle Tod.
“I haven’t the least idea,” answered Mr. Campbell, for the question
seemed to be directed at him.
“Well,” went on Uncle Tod, “Jake, instead of coming right out and
handing you the letter, openly, would attract your attention, somehow,
by making signs. Then, when he got you out of the crowd, he’d slip you
the missive as if it was something contraband.”
“Why?” asked Mr. Campbell with a chuckle.
“Oh, it’s just his mysterious way of doing things. He lives on the sign
language—picked it up from the Indians—he camped among ’em a good many
years,” explained Uncle Tod. “Why, you’d hardly believe it, but Jake,
instead of telling you grub was ready, would sneak up to you, and
cautiously show you a knife and fork sticking in an inside pocket,
somewhat like he’d taken it off a hotel table without the waitress
seeing him. Oh, Jake’s the limit when it comes to sending mysterious
messages.”
“And did he send you the stone and the bullet in the cabbage leaf—the
bullet with the word ‘come’ on it?” Rick wanted to know.
“He did,” answered Uncle Tod. “So you puzzled out the ‘come’; did you?
Not easy unless you happen to hit on it, but I happen to know Jake’s
queer ways. He could just as well have rung the bell and told me that
Sam wanted me to hurry out here.”
“What was the stone?” asked Rick.
“Piece of ore from this mine,” answered his uncle.
“Gold?” asked Mr. Campbell quickly.
“Copper,” was the reply, “though we hope to strike the yellow boys later
on.”
“Won’t now—not with the river gone back on us,” declared Gloomy Sam, as
the boys nicknamed him.
“Maybe we can get Lost River to flow again,” said Uncle Tod more
cheerfully. “That’s why I sent for you, Rick. You helped me a lot in my
salt mining,” he added, “and I believe you’re sort of lucky to have
around a digging.”
“I think you’re right, Mr. Belmont,” observed Mr. Campbell. “Rick and
Chot found my lost car,” and, briefly, he explained about the bank
robbers.
“There! What’d I tell you?” cried Uncle Tod to his partner. “I said Rick
was like a lucky penny to have around.”
“Um,” was all the reply Mr. Rockford made.
“But, Uncle Tod,” resumed Rick, “you went off pretty mysteriously
yourself. Why was that?”
“I had good reasons,” came the answer. “There’s something queer about
this mine, and there is a certain crowd of men trying either to get it
away from us or make us give up the fight here and quit. As I didn’t
want them to know of my movements I just sneaked off here quietly to
join Sam, who told his friend Jake Teeter to summon me. It was Jake who
stuck in the mysterious business when he didn’t need to. Though perhaps
I might have left word with your mother that I was going, Rick. But I
was in a hurry, and all worked up by Jake’s bullet summons, and lots of
things slipped my mind.
“You see,” went on Uncle Tod, “after I bought this mine, and laid claim
to it, taking in Sam Rockford as a partner, there were rumors that we’d
be dished out of it. There were threats of claim-jumpers and things like
that, and some talk about taking away our water rights.
“But as nothing like this happened we began to think it wouldn’t, and so
I thought I could leave things in Sam’s hands and go east. I left word
with him, however, to send me word if any rascals out here tried any of
their tricks, though I hardly believed they would. It seems they have,
but I didn’t reckon Sam would send me word in any such theatrical way as
Jake managed it.
“I reckon Jake was going that way anyhow and he offered to let me know.
Sam was glad of this chance, for Sam isn’t much on writing letters and
he’s worse on sending telegrams. So he left it to Jake and Jake just
naturally couldn’t resist trying some of his old Indian sign tricks. I’m
sorry if it worried you.”
“Crickets! I thought it was nifty!” cried Rick.
“So did I!” agreed Chot.
“Well,” went on Uncle Tod, “I’m glad you looked at it that way. I only
hope I didn’t make Schotzie nervous,” he remarked, giving Rick’s mother
a pet nickname he had devised for her in some odd fashion. “You see I
was sort of looking for some word from Sam, and when you boys burst in
on me, when I was asleep in the yard that day, I thought maybe you had
the message.”
“That’s when you said: ‘Has it come?’” remarked Rick.
“That was it,” said Uncle Tod, and he resumed:
“Once I got here and found how matters lay I decided to send for you.
One reason was I wanted to give you a good vacation, and let you have a
taste of the west, since you always said you wanted to come out here.”
“I did,” confessed Rick, “and you can’t know how thankful I am to you
for letting me come.”
“So’m I,” chimed in Chot.
“Well, I just wanted you to come, and I wanted Ruddy, too,” went on
Uncle Tod. “Maybe you can help us.”
“Nobody can!” declared Mr. Rockford, depressingly.
“Oh, dry up!” chided Uncle Tod with a laugh that took the sting out of
the words.
“Um! That’s what Lost River did—dried up,” grunted Sam.
“Well, I guess most of the mysterious business is explained,” said Mr.
Campbell, referring to the cabbage leaf message.
“Yes,” assented Uncle Tod, “I reckon you did puzzle over it for a spell,
but it wasn’t my intentions, or my doings, even though I did sneak off
quietly and, in that way, I may have added to it.”
“You did,” declared Rick. “And mother will be glad when she hears it’s
all right. Mazie was afraid it was the Black Hand, or something like
that after you, Uncle Tod.”
“No, nothing like that!” chuckled the old sailor. “But shucks! Here I go
on talking and you folks probably want grub,” he exclaimed. “My manners
must have gone prospecting with Lost River. Come on in, Mr. Campbell,”
he invited, waving his hand toward the cabin. “We can put you up for the
night, and our grub isn’t the worst in the world.”
“Oh, I’m not fussy, but are you sure you can put me up? I did count on
keeping on, but it’s getting late and I don’t know this locality. I
could push on—”
“No you don’t!” said Mr. Rockford with more enthusiasm than he had shown
any time since the newcomers had met him. “You just bunk here. I’ll get
something to eat,” and he began to bustle about with an energy and show
of cheerfulness that was in strange and pleasant contrast with his
former actions.
“Stay and eat hearty,” whispered Uncle Tod. “Sam loves to cook and get
up a meal. He’s never happier than when he’s doing it, and it will take
his mind off our troubles. Stay, Mr. Campbell. You’re in no great rush;
are you?”
“No, I don’t know’s I am.”
“All right, just run your car under the shed there with my old flivver
and Esmerelda—that’s the mule. I reckon there’s room for all three.
Though as a matter of fact you could leave it in the open—we don’t get
any rain to speak of at this season.”
“Well, I’ll just run it under the shed,” said the owner of the car, and
this he did, after taking out the boys’ valises and his own overnight
bag.
Meanwhile Sam Rockford was in his element, and he actually whistled as
he built a fire and started to get supper, for it was now about time for
that meal.
“How long since Lost River ceased flowing?” asked Mr. Campbell, as he
and the boys sat with Uncle Tod in front of the cabin, while waiting for
“grub.”
“It stopped a few days before Jake, in his crazy fashion, tossed the
bullet and chunk of ore over your back fence, Rick,” answered the miner.
“I didn’t tell your folks, Rick, but what happened was this: After my
salt holdings were established I looked around for something to invest
my money in, and when my former partner, Sam, told me about this claim
out here he and I bought it.
“Then there was a good stream of water flowing out of the hole in the
side of the mountain, and water is the one thing we need here to make
mining in this locality worth while. I came out here, Sam and I
established this camp and things were going fine when I left to pay your
folks another visit, Rick,” said Uncle Tod. “Then, like lightning out of
a clear sky, came the message from Sam and when I got here I found that
Lost River had ceased running. Of course that put our mine up the
flume.”
“Did it ever stop flowing before?” asked Mr. Campbell.
“Not in a good many years. In fact nobody around here ever remembers
when it wasn’t running,” answered Uncle Tod. “But I ought to have
suspicioned something, on account of the name—Lost River.”
“Then you didn’t give it that name?”
“Shucks, no! It’s been called that since the earliest days. I reckon,
maybe, it had a habit of appearing and disappearing,” said Uncle Tod.
“But we didn’t think it would act up this way with us—Sam and I didn’t.
However, it has, and unless we can get some water here our mine won’t
amount to anything. In fact the stuff is so fine—copper and gold—that it
needs water to wash it out of the dirt. And as it is we can barely get
enough water to cook with—and wash—once in a while. We have to haul it
on Esmerelda’s back in casks from a creek three miles away.”
“No fun in that,” said Mr. Campbell.
“You said it!” exclaimed Uncle Tod heartily. “A dry mine, when it ought
to be a wet one is the worst kind. But I’m hoping for the best.”
“No use—grub’s ready,” said Sam, gloomily, and almost in the same
breath. “Might as well pull up stakes and quit,” he added.
“Not now—since Rick and Ruddy have come!” laughed Uncle Tod. “I tell you
they are going to bring good luck! I’m sure of it!”
As they arose to go in the cabin and eat, a noise down the path
attracted their attention, and Rick had a glimpse of a roughly-dressed
man approaching. It appeared that he had tried to come up the trail
unseen and unheard for as Rick and the others looked he seemed to be
ready to dodge behind a tree. But his foot dislodged a bit of rock that
rattled down the hill. Uncle Tod called out:
“Come on out in the open, Zeek! We see you!”