"Your cheek is cut, Dave!" cried Roger. "How did that happen?"
"Oh, it's only a scratch—made by a flying stone," was the answer. "It doesn't amount to anything."
"I didn't dream that this trail would be so dangerous," went on the senator's son. "If I had known it, I wouldn't have asked you fellows to come along."
"Oh, it's not so bad," returned Phil, hastily. "That horse was awkward—he's the worst of the bunch."
"That's right, an' they had no right to hire me such a hoss," put in Tom Dillon. "When we git back I'll give that feller who did it a piece o' my mind. I tole him I wanted critters used to the mountain trails. The hosses we are ridin' are all right, but this one, he's a sure tenderfoot. He ought to be in the city, behind a truck."
Soon the narrow portion of the rocky trail was left behind and then all of the boys breathed easier.
"That trail back thar is bad enough," was Tom Dillon's comment. "But ye ought to see it in the winter time, with ice an' snow on it! Then it's some travelin', believe me!"
"None for mine!" answered Phil. "I want to see the ground when I travel in a spot like that."
As soon as the trail became better they went forward at the best possible speed, for they wished, if they could, to catch up with Abe Blower and those with him.
"You don't suppose Blower would turn off of this trail?" questioned Roger, of the old miner, as they rode along.
"He couldn't turn off until he reached wot we call Talpoll Crossin'," answered Tom Dillon. "And we won't git thar until some time to-morrow."
They were climbing up a steady grade and so had to stop again and again to rest the horses. The trail wound in and out among the hills, and before the party was the big mountain.
"Stop an' I'll show you something!" cried the old miner, presently, and as they halted he pointed toward the mountain with his hand. "See that knob a stickin' out ag'in the sky?" he questioned.
"The one with the yellowish spot on it?" asked Dave.
"Yes. Well, that is where the big landslide took place an' buried the Landslide Mine an' my claim out o' sight."
All of the boys gazed with interest at the spot which, of course, was many miles away. They saw they would have to work their way over two more hills and through several hollows to get to it. Ahead they could occasionally see the trail, but not a soul was in sight.
"Look!" exclaimed Dave, as he turned to gaze below them along the trail they had been pursuing. "I can see something moving!"
"Maybe cattle," suggested Roger, after a long look.
"No, I think it is a crowd on horseback," answered our hero, after another look.
Roger had with him a small pair of field-glasses, and he had brought them forth to gaze at the mountain where the Landslide Mine had been located. Now he turned them on the distant objects Dave had discovered.
"Horsemen true enough," he said, after a look. "Three of them."
"Oh, say, do you think they can be Sol Blugg and his two cronies?" burst out Phil.
"Maybe," answered Roger. "I can't make them out from this distance."
"Let me take a look," suggested Tom Dillon, and adjusted the glasses to his eyes. "You are right—they are three men on horses. But who they are I don't know. Plenty o' miners travel this trail at one time or another."
They looked at the distant horsemen for several minutes. Then the field-glasses were put away and they continued their journey.
Nightfall found them in a district that, to the boys, was desolation itself. Rocks were on every side, with little patches of the coarsest kind of growth, brushwood, stalk-like grass, and cacti. The air was so pure and thin that it fairly made one's nose tingle to breathe it.
All were tired out—indeed the boys were so stiff from the long ride that they could scarcely climb down from their saddles. But not for the world were they going to let Tom Dillon know this. They had told the old miner that they were used to roughing it and they wanted to "make good" in his eyes.
Some brushwood was gathered and a fire started, and the horses were tethered near by. The old miner knew where there was a spring of drinkable water—something occasionally hard to find in a district full of all sorts of minerals—and soon they had some boiling for coffee. Then their outfit was unstrapped, and they prepared supper and got ready to turn in for the night.
"I wonder if we can't see something of the campfire of Abe Blower, if he is ahead," remarked Dave.
"We might have a look for it," answered Roger.
There was a tall rock just behind their camp, and this the two youths climbed, Phil saying he was too tired to stir. It was harder work than Dave and Roger had anticipated, but, once they had started, they hated to give up. Up and up and still up they went, climbing from one elevation to another by means of the rocks themselves and bits of coarse grass and brushwood.
"There, I reckon we are high enough now!" cried the senator's son, after nearly half an hour's climbing. "Anyway, I am going to stop!" And he began to pant for breath.
The two boys looked around them. The sun had sunk to rest behind the mountain in the west, and the hollows between the hills were deep in the gloom of the oncoming night. Far back on the trail they had come they saw a small fire start up.
"That must be the campfire of those three horsemen," said Dave.
"More than likely," responded his chum. "Do you see anything ahead?"
Both looked, but for a long time could see nothing. Then they caught a faint gleam from a point apparently halfway up the mountain, in the direction where the Landslide Mine was supposed to be located.
"Maybe that's Abe Blower's camp!" cried Dave, who was the first to discover the light.
"I'd like to know if Link Merwell and Job Haskers are really with him," said Roger.
"We ought to be able to catch up to them by to-morrow, so Mr. Dillon said."
"Unless Merwell and Haskers fix it so that they throw us off their trail, Roger. You know Mr. Dillon said they could branch off at Talpoll Crossing. That is where a spur of the railroad cuts in, to reach the mines on the other side of the hills—the railroad I suppose the Landslide Mine would have to use in getting out ore."
The boys watched the distant light for a while longer, and then descended to the camping spot. The others listened with interest to what they had to report.
"We'll be after 'em at sun-up," said Tom Dillon. "An' now all o' yer had better turn in an' get what rest you can."
This was sensible advice, and the three youths lost no time in following it. They turned in around the fire, which was kept burning, so as to keep away any possible prowling beasts. Tom Dillon was the last to retire, he looking to it that all of the horses were tethered.
It was just growing daylight when Dave awoke with a start. Something had aroused him—what he could not tell. He sat bolt upright, and at the same moment the old miner, who was beside him, did the same.
"What's up?" asked Tom Dillon, instinctively feeling for the pistol he carried.
"Our horses!" cried Dave. "They are running back on the trail!"
"Somebody is stealin' 'em!" roared Tom Dillon, and was on his feet on the instant.
By this time the noise had awakened Phil and Roger, and all three boys followed the old miner in arising. In the gray light of the morning they could see that their four horses were moving along the back trail on a gallop. A single man seemed to be in charge of them, on a steed of his own.
"Halt!" yelled Tom Dillon. "Halt, or I'll fire on you!" And he raised his pistol.
At this sharp command the man with the horses turned slightly to look back. He crouched low, and wore a sombrero pulled down well over his face. On the instant he rode to the front of the galloping steeds, thus getting out of range of the old miner's weapon.
"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was used for calling the animal he had been riding.
The effect of the whistle was all that could have been des
ired. The horse dropped to a walk and then turned back. And as Tom Dillon continued to whistle, the intelligent steed came closer and closer, until the old miner was able to grasp it by the halter.
But all this had taken valuable time, and meanwhile the other horses continued to gallop on, led by the man in front, who was now riding like the wind. Who he was they could not make out, but they strongly suspected Sol Blugg or one of his cronies.
"I'd shoot if them hosses wasn't in the way!" cried Tom Dillon, wrathfully.
"Can't you go after them?" asked Dave and Roger, in a breath.
"I can and I will!" answered the old miner. "Stay right here till I get back!" And with those words he saddled his horse with all speed, and in less than a minute later was flying down the back trail after the stolen steeds and the rascal who was making off with them.
* * *
CHAPTER XIX
THE NEWSPAPER CLEW
"Do you think he'll catch that fellow?"
It was Phil who asked the question, as he and Dave and Roger watched the old miner disappear around a bend of the back trail.
"I don't know about that," returned Dave. "But if he gets the horses back it will be something."
"I should say yes!" cried the senator's son. "Why, we won't be able to go on unless we get them back!" he added, his face showing his worry.
"Listen!" exclaimed Roger a minute later. "Somebody is shooting!"
It was true—a shot had sounded out on the morning air. Soon it was followed by another, at a greater distance—showing that pursued and pursuer were drawing farther from the boys.
The boys walked slowly back to the campfire and commenced to stir it up, and then they finished their morning toilet. Dave heaved a deep sigh.
"I must say I don't feel much like eating," he observed.
"Oh, we might as well fix breakfast," came from Phil. "It will help to pass the time. It won't do any good to just sit around."
Fortunately their provisions were at hand, so it was an easy matter to prepare the morning meal. Before eating, however, Roger and Dave climbed the tall rock behind the camp and looked for some sign of Tom Dillon and the man he was pursuing.
"I can't see a thing," announced Roger, after a long look through the field-glasses. "Here, you try," and he handed the glasses to our hero.
For several minutes Dave surveyed the distant landscape in vain. Then he uttered a cry.
"I see them, Roger! There they go!" And he pointed excitedly with his finger.
At a distance they could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks. The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.
"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon the slip."
"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"
"Yes—sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go down and wait for him to get back."
"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"
"I hope he isn't, Roger."
They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the adventure from all possible standpoints.
"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave. "Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."
Slowly the morning wore away. When the sun came up it was very hot and the youths were glad enough to draw into the shade of the rocks. Just before noon all three climbed the tall rock again, to look not only for Tom Dillon and the horses, but also for Abe Blower and those with him.
But not a soul was in sight, nor did any horses show themselves. At a distance they made out some mule deer and several goats, but that was all.
"Do you think we ought to walk along the back trail?" asked Roger, when they were getting lunch. "Mr. Dillon may need our services."
"I'll go if you want me to, Roger," answered our hero. "But he was a good distance away when we saw him through the glasses."
"Let us wait awhile—until the awful heat of the midday sun is over," suggested Phil. "The sunshine just now is enough to give one a sun-stroke."
It was a little after three o'clock when the three lads prepared to walk along the back trail, on the lookout for the old miner. But just as they started Dave put up his hand.
"Listen!"
All did so, and from a distance heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on the rocky trail. Then came a cheery call.
"It's Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger, and let out a call in return, and the others did likewise.
Soon the old miner appeared around a bend of the trail. He was seated on his own steed and driving the others in front of him. He looked tired out, and the horses looked the same.
"Are you all right, Mr. Dillon?" sang out Dave, as he ran forward to stop the nearest horse.
"All right, boys!" was the answer. "That is, I will be as soon as I've rested a bit. I've had some ride, believe me!"
Roger and Phil helped Dave to secure the free horses and tether them, and our hero held the old miner's steed while he fairly tumbled to the ground. The horse was in a heavy lather, and Mr. Dillon was covered with dust.
"You weren't shot, were you?" questioned the senator's son, anxiously.
"No, although I come putty nigh to it," was the answer, and the old miner pointed to a hole through the brim of the hat he wore. "The skunk fired twict at me!"
"We heard two shots," said Dave. "We were afraid you might be in trouble. If we had had horses we would have followed you."
"I did better nor he did," went on the old miner, with a satisfied ring in his voice. "I plugged him in the arm."
"You did!" exclaimed Phil. "We heard only two shots!"
"I fired later on, after he left the trail. He was just gittin' ready to aim his gun ag'in when I caught him. His arm went down like lead, an' the gun dropped to the ground; so I know I winged him. He didn't shoot no more, only got into the timber quick as he could. Then I rounded up the hosses an' started back."
"Who was it, do you know?" questioned Dave.
"It was Ham Staver. I suppose Sol Blugg and Larry Jaley sent him ahead to steal the hosses. They thought it would be easy, with us asleep."
"It came pretty near being so," answered Dave, gravely.
Tom Dillon was glad enough to rest, and to partake of the hearty meal the boys prepared for him. The horses were cared for, and the boys were pleased to learn that they had not suffered through the wild run along the rocky trail.
"If that Staver shows himself around Butte I'll settle accounts with him," said the old miner, while eating. "But I reckon he'll stay away for a while."
After an hour's rest the old miner announced that he was ready to go forward once more. The sun was now well in the west, and it was not near so hot as it had been in the middle of the day.
"I wish we could catch up to the Blower party by to-night," said Roger, earnestly. "Mr. Dillon, do you think we can do it?"
"We can try, lad. But you must remember, we'll have to favor the hosses a leetle. They have had a mighty hard run on't."
"I know. Well, don't go any further than you deem wise."
For the distance of half a mile the trail was comparatively good. But then they came to an uneven locality, filled with dangerous holes and pitfalls.
"Careful here, boys!" cried Tom Dillon. "We don't want none o' the hosses to break a leg."
He was in the lead, and under his guidance they advanced slowly. At the top of a short rise of ground he came to a halt.
"Here is where part o' that landslide occurred," he announced, pointing with his hand. "I think myself it was somethin' of an earthquake, although the scientific sharps say not. But if it wasn't an earthquake it was mighty queer that it hit this spot and the other at the same time—both bein' m
iles apart."
"Perhaps the shock of the falling rocks at one place shook the other," suggested Dave.
"Perhaps, lad. It's a mystery—an' I suppose it will remain a mystery. We know some things about Nater, but there's others she keeps putty well hid."
They went down on the other side of the rise, and then commenced to mount an even larger hill—the last but one, so the old miner told the boys. Far in the distance they could make out the railroad tracks, winding along through the mountains. The sun was setting, and the western sky was aflame with varied colors of most gorgeous hues.
"What a beautiful sunset!" murmured Dave.
Soon the gloom of evening commenced to settle about them. All had their eyes ahead, but so far they had seen no trace of the Blower party.
"Wait a minute!" cried Dave, presently. He had seen something white fluttering among the rocks on the side of the trail.
"What do you see?" asked Phil.
"A newspaper."
"Oh, let it go, Dave. We have all the old newspapers we want."
"I want to see how recent it is," was our hero's reply.
He got down, walked to where the paper rested in a crevice, and drew it forth.
"It's a copy of a mining journal," he announced, as he looked the sheet over. "The issue for last week," he added, gazing at the date. "It's full of grease, too,—that's why they threw it away."
"Do you suppose it belonged to Abe Blower?" questioned Roger, coming up.
"It did!" cried Dave. He had turned to the front page of the paper. "See, here is Abe Blower's name and address, stamped on for mailing purposes. He got it through the mail just before he left and took it along to wrap something in."
"Then that proves we are on the right trail!" cried Roger, joyfully. "I wonder how long ago it was when he threw the paper away?"
"I'm not detective enough to tell you that, Roger," answered Dave, with a grin. "But it's something to know we are on the right trail. They might have taken to that cross trail, you know. We'll catch up to them sooner or later."
Once more our friends went forward, this time along the very edge of the new ridge that had shown itself after the great landslide. They had to advance with caution, for loose stones were numerous and so were dangerous holes.
Dave Porter in the Gold Fields Page 12