"I—I wouldn't mind it so much if it was not for that Link Merwell—and that old Haskers!" continued the girl. "Oh, Dave, you must be careful!" and she caught him by the arm.
"I'm going to keep my eyes open for them," Dave answered, and, as nobody was looking, he caught her hand and gave it a tight squeeze. "Will you miss me, Jessie, while I am gone?" he continued, in a low tone.
"Terribly!" she whispered.
"I'll miss you, too. But it sha'n't be for long that I'll be away—I promise you that."
"Oh, you must find the mine if you can, Dave. I rather think the Morrs are depending on it. Laura said Roger looked very much worried when he got that letter in St. Paul."
"Yes, matters are not going well with the senator's affairs—I know that, Jessie. If he gets out of politics he'll have to do something else. Finding this lost gold mine would be a big lift for the whole family."
Then Laura came out, in company with Roger, and soon the others followed. It was a perfect day, as clear as could be, and off in the distance could be seen the mountains.
"Going to shoot any bears out there in the Park?" asked Shadow, of Dunston Porter, with a grin.
"Hardly, Shadow, since outsiders are not allowed to carry firearms," replied Dave's uncle. "Only the United States soldiers are armed in the Park."
"Somebody told me the bears were tame enough to eat out of your hand," said Phil.
"Maybe they are, but I shouldn't advise anybody to feed them that way," answered Mr. Porter. "A bear isn't naturally a sociable creature."
It had been decided that Dunston Porter should go into the Park with the ladies and the girls, letting the boys shift for themselves in the search for Abe Blower and the lost Landslide Mine. An hour before the time for parting came Dunston Porter called Dave, Roger, and Phil to him, in a car that was practically vacated at the time.
"Now, I want to caution all of you to be careful," said the old hunter and traveler. "This isn't the East, remember. It's the West, and in some places it is as wild and woolly as can be. But I don't think you'll have any trouble if you mind your own business and keep your eyes open. Don't rely too much on strangers, and I think it will be wise for all of you to keep together as much as possible. Don't show any more cash than you have to. And remember, you can always reach us in the Park, by telegraph or long-distance telephone."
"We'll try to take care of ourselves," said Dave; and then his uncle continued to give the youths advice, on one subject or another, until it was time to get ready to leave the train.
"Livingston!" was the cry presently, and the excursion train rolled into the long depot. It was to stop there for fifteen minutes and then proceed to Gardiner.
"There is Belle!" cried Laura.
"I see her!" put in Phil, and was the first to reach the platform and shake the girl from Star Ranch by the hand. Belle Endicott looked the picture of health, and was glad to greet them all.
"Sorry we can't visit awhile," said Roger.
"We'll do that after we come back," added Phil.
"Well, good-by everybody!" cried Dave, shaking hands with many, an example followed by those who were to go with him.
"Wish I was going on that hunt for the mine with you," said Ben, who had to remain with his folks.
"So do I," added Shadow, who was to stay with Ben.
"Never mind, we'll rely on you to look after the girls," answered Dave.
"Oh, we can do that," said Ben, with a grin.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "No reflection on the girls here," he added, hastily. "Once on a time a young minister paid a visit to some relatives in the country. He got a letter stating they'd be glad to have him come and would he attend a picnic in the woods and help to take care of four girls. He wrote back that he would be delighted. When he arrived and started for the picnic he found the four girls waiting for him—four old maids from thirty to forty years of age!" And at this joke a smile went around, in which the girls joined.
Soon the last of the good-bys had been said. The girls were on the observation end of the last car, and as the train rolled onward towards Yellowstone Park they waved their handkerchiefs and the boys on the platform swung their caps. Then the train slowly disappeared from view.
"Well, here we are," said Phil, with something like a sigh.
"We've got an hour to wait before that train comes along for Butte," said Roger, consulting his watch.
"How far is Butte?" went on the shipowner's son.
"About a hundred miles, as the crow flies," answered Dave. "But I guess it is longer by the railroad, and we'll have some climbing to do—to get into the Rockies."
"Say, supposing we ask the men around here if they saw anything of Merwell and Haskers?" suggested the senator's son.
"It won't do any harm," answered Dave.
Inquiries were made of the baggage-master, a ticket-seller, and half a dozen other men around the depot. But none of them remembered having seen the pair mentioned.
"They probably kept out of sight," was Dave's comment. "They would be afraid we were on their trail, or that we had telegraphed ahead about them."
From the station-master they learned that their train was two hours behind time, and would not reach Butte until late that night. This being so, they left their baggage on check at the depot and took a stroll around, looking at the sights. Then they found a small restaurant and got what they called supper, although it was not a very good meal.
When the train came along it proved to be crowded, for there had been a sale of public and private lands not far away and many of the disappointed would-be buyers were on board.
"We can't take any through passengers," said the conductor, and waved the boys back.
"We only want to go to Butte," answered Roger.
"Oh, all right then. Take the forward car, next to the baggage-car. But I don't think you'll find any seats. We are swamped because of the land sale."
The boys ran forward, after making sure that their baggage was tumbled into a baggage-car. As the conductor had said, the cars were overcrowded, and they had to stand up in the aisle. A number of the men were smoking and they continued to do so, even though it was against the rules.
"Pretty rough-looking crowd," whispered Phil, after the train had started.
"Not all bad," was Dave's comment. "But some of them are certainly the limit," and he nodded towards one crowd that were talking loudly and using language that was anything but choice. In this crowd one fellow in particular, a tall, thin, leathery individual, called by the others Sol Blugg, seemed to be a leading spirit.
About half an hour had passed, and the conductor had just gone through collecting tickets, when the man called Blugg pushed up alongside another man who sat on the arm of a rear seat.
"Say, do you know what Staver jest told me?" he exclaimed.
"No, what?" demanded the other man.
"He says as how he is almost sure Abe Blower put this crimp in our land deal," responded the man called Blugg.
"Abe Blower!" exclaimed the other. "Say, maybe thet's right. Blower ain't got no use fer our crowd. Well, if he did it, he better look out!"
* * *
CHAPTER XIV
IN BUTTE
Dave overheard the conversation between the two rough-looking men in the crowded car, and so did Phil and Roger. All glanced at each other suggestively.
"Do you think they are talking about the Abe Blower we want to find?" asked Roger of Dave, in a whisper.
"More than likely, Roger," was the answer. "It is not likely that there are two Abe Blowers in this part of the country. It's not a common name, like Smith."
"Listen," whispered Phil, for the two men had begun to talk again.
"I lost a lot of money by havin' thet land deal fall through," growled the fellow called Blugg.
"So did I," responded the man on the arm of the car seat. "We all did."
"If Abe Blower knows we are on his trail he'll keep out o' sight."
"Maybe
; although Blower wa'n't never the fellow to take backwater," responded the other, doubtfully.
"We'll git him yet; see if we don't," was the savage response. And then followed some conversation in such a low tone that the boys could not hear what was said.
But it was easy to surmise one thing, which was that these men hated Abe Blower most cordially. And because of this, and because they had heard that Blower was a strictly upright, honest man, the chums concluded that these fellows in the car had been trying in some manner to put through some land deal that was not strictly fair, and that Abe Blower had foiled their designs.
Presently a third man, a fellow named Larry Jaley, joined the others. All were very bitter against Abe Blower, and each vowed that he would "git square" with the old prospector sooner or later. From their talk the boys learned that the men, along with some others of the crowd, were stopping in Butte at the Solid Comfort House, a place that, so they afterwards learned, bore a very shady reputation. Nothing was said about where Abe Blower was stopping, and the youths did not dare to inquire, for fear of making the men suspicious.
"They might think we were friends of Blower sent to spy on them," said Phil. "They must know we have heard some of their talk."
"If Abe Blower is so well known in Butte it ought to be an easy matter to find him," returned Dave. "We can look for him in the directory and the telephone book, and ask for him at the hotels and mining offices."
"And remember, I have one of his old addresses," said Roger. "Maybe the folks at that place know where he has gone."
It was dark when they rolled into the railroad station at Butte, a typical western mining city, with a population of about thirty-five thousand souls.
"No use in trying to do anything to-night," said Roger, who was tired and knew his chums must be the same. "We'll go to some first-class hotel and start on our hunt for Blower in the morning."
"Yes, I'm dead tired," answered Phil, who had been yawning for the last hour.
The boys had the address of a good hotel, and were soon on the way to the place. They saw the man called Sol Blugg start off down a side street with his companions.
"I wish we would run into Link Merwell and Job Haskers," remarked Dave, as they hurried towards the hotel.
"What good would that do?" demanded the senator's son.
"Then I'd know they hadn't left Butte to look for that lost mine."
"Humph! you don't suppose they are going to find it all in a minute, do you, Dave?" asked Phil.
"No, but an idea just struck me."
"What?" asked both of the others.
"Supposing Merwell and Haskers should hunt up Blower and see what he had to say about the lost mine."
"Phew!" cried Roger. "Do you think they'd dare?"
"They might. They have done some pretty bold things lately. Link is real reckless."
Roger came to a halt on the pavement.
"Maybe we had better hunt for Abe Blower right away," he declared.
"Oh, come on, and get to bed," yawned Phil. "Where are you going to look for him this time of night?"
"I don't know, exactly. But we could make some inquiries."
"Let us go to the hotel first," said Dave. "Then, after we have secured rooms, we can hunt around, if we want to."
A little later they found themselves at the hotel, where they secured two rooms with a bath. At the desk they asked the clerk if he knew an old miner and prospector named Abe Blower.
"Seems to me I've heard the name," replied the clerk. "But I can't just place it. You might ask Tom Dillon, over yonder. He knows all the old-timers in Butte," and the clerk pointed to a man who sat in a corner of the hotel lobby, reading a newspaper.
Tom Dillon, round-faced and white-haired, put down his paper and smiled as the boys came up and addressed him. He was an old-time miner, who had "struck it rich," and who had known how to take care of his wealth.
"Sure, I know most of the old-timers!" he exclaimed, genially, in reply to Roger's question. "Who are you looking for?"
"Let me introduce myself first," said Roger. He gave his name and also those of his chums. "I am the nephew of the late Maurice Harrison, of this place."
"You don't tell me! Maurice's nevvy, eh? Then you must be the son o' Senator Morr, o' the East?"
"Yes."
"Glad to know ye! Put her there, young man!" And Tom Dillon shook hands cordially all around. "Yes, I knowed your uncle well—we did a bit of prospectin' together onct. It broke me all up to hear how he died—so many o' the old-timers droppin' off."
"It was a great shock to our family," replied Roger. "Perhaps you know what brought me to Butte," he continued, looking at the old miner, questioningly.
"To settle up the estate, I reckon."
"In a way, yes. I suppose you have heard about that lost mine?"
"What, the Landslide? Sure. An' she's gone fer good, lad; don't bank on ever findin' it ag'in, for if you do, well, I think ye'll be disapp'inted." And Tom Dillon shook his head slowly.
"You really think it can't be found?" asked Dave.
"I ain't sayin' that. But chances are all ag'in it. Whar that mine was located, the big landslide changed the hull face o' nature, an' all kinds o' landmarks have been teetotally lost."
"Well, I am going to do what I can," put in Roger. "And my two chums are going to help me. But I was going to ask you a question. The clerk suggested that we ask you. Do you know an old miner named Abe Blower?"
"Sure."
"Can you tell me where he is now?"
"He lives with an old lady named Carmody, on the other side o' town. She is some kind o' a relative of his, and came on from the South to keep house fer him. But he ain't home much. He spends most of his time prospectin'. Seems like he can't give it up."
"I wish you'd give me his address," said the senator's son, and, having received it, put it down in a note-book.
As late as it was, it was decided to walk across town to where Abe Blower resided, and the three boys set out without delay.
"I'd get a cab, if any was around," said Roger, who saw how tired Phil was.
"Maybe, Phil, you had better go to bed and let Roger and me go to Blower's home," suggested Dave.
"No, if you go, I'll go too," declared the shipowner's son, who never cared to be left behind when anything was going on.
The place where Abe Blower resided was down at the end of a side street, which, at this hour of the night, was dark and deserted. They had some little difficulty in finding the right number. The house stood back from the street, and not a single light shone within it.
"Everybody gone to bed," announced Dave. "It seems like a shame to wake them up."
"I'll wait till morning," announced the senator's son. "Now we know just where the place is, we can come here directly after breakfast." And so it was settled.
At the hotel Phil found himself so tired that he pitched into bed with scant ceremony. After the long trip on the train, Dave felt that he needed a bath and took it, followed by Roger. Then all went sound asleep, not to awaken until daylight. Then Phil took a good "soak," as he called a bath, and all dressed for an early breakfast. In the dining-room they met Mr. Dillon.
"Find Abe last night?" asked the old miner, with a smile.
"We located the house and are going over there right after we eat," answered the senator's son. "And by the way, Mr. Dillon," he continued. "Do you know any men named Blugg, Jaley, and Staver?"
"Do I!" cried Tom Dillon. "Sure I do, an' so do lots of other folks in these diggin's. What do you know about 'em?"
"We met them on the train."
"Don't ye have nothin' to do with that crowd, lads. They ain't the sort you want to train with, nohow."
"We are not going to train with them," said Dave.
"We thought they were pretty hard customers," added Phil.
"They mentioned Abe Blower and one of them said he thought Blower had queered some sort of a land deal they were trying to put through," continued Roger.
&
nbsp; "Is that so! Well, if Abe did that I give him credit for it, I sure do. Those fellers are swindlers, pure an' simple. But they generally work in sech a way that the law can't tech 'em. I ain't got no use for 'em—and I reckon Abe ain't neither," went on the old miner, vigorously. And then he sat down to breakfast with the boys, telling them much about Butte, and the mining country around it, and about what dealings he had had with Roger's uncle.
"A square man he was," he said. "And a great pity the way he dropped off and had his mine lost by a landslide."
The meal over, the three boys lost no time in walking over to the other side of the city, where Abe Blower lived. They found the front windows of the house open and an elderly woman was sweeping off the front stoop with a broom.
"Good-morning," said Roger, politely. "Is this Mrs. Carmody?"
"Yes, I'm Mrs. Carmody," was the reply, and the old lady looked questioningly into Roger's face. "I don't seem to remember you," she went on.
"We never met before, Mrs. Carmody," answered Roger, and introduced himself and his chums. "I came to see Mr. Abe Blower."
The woman looked quite bewildered, so much so that the boys were astonished. She dropped her broom.
"Did you say you was Roger Morr?" she gasped, looking at the senator's son.
"Yes."
"Then what brought you here—lookin' fer Abe?"
It was now Roger's turn to be surprised.
"Why do you ask that?" he questioned. "I came because I want to have a talk with him, and maybe get him to help me look for a lost mine."
"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Carmody, and looked more bewildered than ever.
"Isn't Mr. Blower here?" asked Dave. A sudden idea had sprung into his mind.
"Of course he isn't here. I—I—don't understand this at all—really, I don't."
"Don't understand what?" asked Roger.
"Your bein' here, after the letter Abe sent yesterday afternoon. Didn't you say your name was Roger Morr?"
"Yes."
"Then you went off with Abe, didn't you?"
"Me?" cried Roger. "Why, I have never seen him as yet."
"Never seen him!" gasped Mrs. Carmody. "Well, I never! Of all the queer things! What can it mean?" And she walked to a chair on the stoop and sank down heavily.
Dave Porter in the Gold Fields Page 9