They immediately asked for further news, but were informed that none had come in. Nor did any word come in all that forenoon.
“This suspense is fierce,” was Dick’s remark, at last. “That conductor is either asleep or has given up the search. I wish I knew of some first-class detective on the other end of the line who could take up the case for us.”
“We’d know somebody if Tom was bound for San Francisco,” returned his brother. “But I don’t know a soul in Seattle—oh, yes, I do!” he suddenly shouted.
“Who, Sam?”
“A fellow named Jim Hendricks. He is a cousin of Stanley Browne, and also a cousin to Larry Colby, who went to Putnam Hall with us. He was at Brill once, for a week, and I got pretty well acquainted with him.”
“Why, yes, I remember him. He and I used to talk about what Larry and I did at Putnam Hall. But is he in Seattle now, and have you his address?”
“I think I have his address. Wait, I’ll look,” end Sam pulled a little notebook out of his pocket. “He asked me to write to him some time, but I never did more than mail him a postal. Yes, here is the address.”
“Do you think he would help us, if he was home?”
“Sure I do. He got acquainted with Tom, and he knew what chums Tom and Larry were at the Hall.”
“Then we might telegraph him. It won’t do any harm anyway.”
A rather long telegram was prepared and sent from the next station at which the train stopped. There the youths hoped for another message from Folsom the conductor, but none came.
Slowly the hours dragged by, the express thundering along in the meanwhile on its journey westward. They stopped at Livingston, and there many passengers got off, bound for a trip through that great natural wonderland, Yellowstone Park. At Helena they heard from Folsom again. This time the message was one full of mystery.
“Cannot find Paul Haverlock anywhere. So far as known, he did not leave train at any station. We are very much crowded, account special excursion, and break down of Number 126. Attached two extra cars. He may be hiding among new passengers. I can do no more.”
“I think I can explain this,” said the conductor of the train, when Dick showed him the telegram. “Number 126, the train just ahead of Number 182, the one your brother is on, broke down. Now, the second train is carrying two cars of the other train, and most likely all of the other train’s passengers. So Folsom is having his hands full with his extra duties. In the meantime your brother has disappeared, probably in the crowd of extra passengers.”
“If he didn’t jump off the train,” sighed Sam.
“Would he do that?” asked the railroad man,
“I don’t know. A fellow who is out of his mind is liable to do anything.”
“That is true.”
The train was now in the midst of the Rocky Mountains, but the Rovers had no heart to look at the scenery.
“Oh, if only we get some sort of encouraging word at Spokane!” sighed Sam.
“We ought to hear from Jim Hendricks,” answered Dick. “That is, if he is home and got our message.” They knew that the Hendricks family were rich and that Jim had a great deal of time to himself.
At Spokane they left the train, for they did not want to go down to Portland, whither it was bound. They asked at the telegraph office for a message and one was handed over to them.
“This is something like it!” cried Dick, as he read it aloud. It ran as follows:
“My sincere sympathy. I remember Tom well and will be on the watch for him. Will meet you on your arrival.
“JAMES V. HENDRICKS.”
“Well, that’s one word of encouragement,” said Sam. “Good for Jim! I thought he’d help us.”
“If he only got the message in time to catch Tom,” returned his brother. “We were rather late in getting it to him, remember.”
“We’ll have to hope for the best.”
While the boys were waiting around Spokane, for the train to take them to Seattle, they fell in with a commercial drummer who said he was waiting for a companion with some sample cases. He was a kindly-looking man and during the course of his conversation let slip the news that he had been on the train Tom had taken.
“Perhaps you can give us some information,” cried Dick. “We are trying to catch a young man who was on that train,” and he gave a few of the particulars.
“Well! well!” cried the commercial drummer. “To be sure I met that fellow. The way I noticed him was because he acted so queer. He didn’t want to sit still, but kept walking up and down the aisle and from one car to another. I saw the conductor talk to him once or twice, too.”
“Where did he go?” questioned Sam.
“Well, you know the train ahead of ours broke down and we hooked fast to some of the cars. When this was done a lot of new passengers got in our cars, and there was something of a mix-up. I saw the fellow go into one of the cars from the other train, and that’s the last I did see of him.”
“And that train went right through to Seattle?” asked Dick.
“Yes. That is, unless they had more trouble on the line. And by the way, did you hear of what happened on the trip from St. Paul? A lady lost her handbag containing jewelry to the value of ten thousand dollars.”
CHAPTER XVI
THE ROVER BOYS IN SEATTLE
Sam and Dick looked at each other in new alarm. They remembered only too well what had occurred at Hiram Duff’s cottage. Was it possible that Tom had seen the lady’s jewels and taken them? In his unbalanced state of mind he was liable to do anything.
“She had the jewels in her handbag?” questioned Dick.
“Yes, a little black affair—so she told the conductor. When she discovered that it was gone she was almost crazy. She said some of the jewelry belonged to her mother, who was with her.”
“Was this in your car?”
“Yes, up at the other end from where I sat, though.” And the commercial drummer grinned. “Oh, I had nothing to do with it,” he added, lightly.
“I didn’t suppose you had,” returned Dick. “But where was this other fellow—the one I think was my brother—at this time?”
“Why, he sat up near the other end, too—about two seats from the lady. He said, the same as did everybody on the car, that he hadn’t seen the bag or the jewels. The conductor and the porter made a long search, but nothing came of it. The lady was wild, and said she would get her husband to sue the company for her loss. She had the conductor worried, I can tell you.”
“And that’s why he lost interest in helping us,” murmured Dick. “He certainly had his hands full, with that train breakdown and the missing jewels, and looking for Tom.”
“Who sat next to the lady?” asked Sam.
“Her mother, a very old woman.”
“And was that young man we mentioned next?”
“Yes.”
“Couldn’t they find any trace of the bag at all?”
“Not a thing. It was mighty queer, and the woman made it worse by being so excited. She could hardly tell when she had seen the bag last, or where. First she said she had had it in her lap and then she said she guessed she had put it on a hook with her coat.”
“What did they do about it?”
“I don’t know, for I got off here, while the lady and her mother went through to Seattle,” answered the drummer.
The commercial man could tell but little more of importance to the Rovers, and presently, when his companion came with the sample cases, he went away.
“Dick, do you think Tom took that lady’s handbag with the jewels?” asked Sam, when the two were by themselves.
“Sam, I don’t know what to think,” was the discouraging reply. “I only know one thing—the quicker we locate Tom and put him in some safe place, the better.”
“Do you—you think his mind is affected for good
—I mean for always?”
“Let us hope not. Why, it would be terrible to have to keep him in an asylum for the rest of his life! It would just about kill father. And think of Nellie.”
“It certainly is the worst thing that ever happened!” muttered Sam. “It’s worse than our trouble with Dan Baxter, Lew Flapp, or with Sobber and those brokers, and old Crabtree.”
“So it is.”
When the train for Seattle finally came in they got abroad. It was so crowded that they had to take seats in a day coach. But this they did not mind. They would have ridden on a freight train, could they have gotten to Seattle faster thereby.
Hour after hour passed slowly. The boys could not settle down to read, and they had little appetite for their meals. They caught a little sleep in their seats, and were ready to leave the train the moment the conductor called out that they were approaching Seattle.
“I see Jim Hendricks!” cried Sam, as he looked out of a window.
“Is Tom with him?” queried his brother.
“No, he is alone.”
In a minute more they were out of the train, suitcases in hand, and shaking hands with the cousin of Stanley and Larry. Jim Hendricks’ usually jolly face showed his deep concern.
“I’ve got bad news for you,” he said. “That train Tom was on got here before I did, and so I didn’t have a chance to stop him. I’ve been making some inquiries though, and I am pretty certain he reached this place. One man who was on the train told me he had met a young fellow who said he was bound for Alaska to find some nuggets of gold. He wanted to know about the ships that sailed for Sitka and Juneau, and the man told him what he knew. He said the young fellow went off in the direction of the shipping offices.”
“Oh, Dick! we must get after him at once!” cried Sam.
“That’s it, Sam.” Dick turned to Jim Hendricks. “Will you show us where they are? We can go in a taxicab.”
“I’ve got our auto outside—we can go in that, and you may as well bring your baggage along,” continued the Seattle young man. “If you have to remain in town, I want you to stay at our house.”
“Thanks, that’s kind of you,” answered Dick.
Jim led the way outside, to where stood a handsome six-cylinder touring car. “I don’t know when the steamers sail, but we can soon find out,” he said, and directed the chauffeur where to go.
They were soon passing through the streets of Seattle, a well-built up city where much business is done. As many of my young readers must know, Seattle is located on Puget Sound, one of the great natural gateways to the Pacific Ocean. Just south of it is Tacoma, also a city of importance.
The ride to the first of the shipping offices did not take long, and going inside Dick made some inquiries of the clerk at the desk.
“Don’t remember any such man,” said the clerk.
“When is your next sailing?”
“Day after tomorrow. Want to book for the passage?”
“Perhaps. I don’t know yet.”
“Better make up your mind pretty quick. We have only a few berths left,” went on the clerk.
“We are looking for a certain young man who was bound for Alaska,” went on Dick, producing Tom’s photograph. “Have you seen anything of him?”
The clerk gave a glance at the photograph and started.
“Well, that’s strange!” tie cried.
“You saw him?” put in Sam, eagerly.
“I sure did. Did you want to meet him?”
“Very much.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t see how you are going to do it. His name was, let me see—Haverlock, I believe.”
“That’s the name he was traveling under,” answered Dick, giving his brother a nudge in the ribs.
“Wasn’t his own then?” and the clerk became interested.
“No, it’s an assumed name. I might as well tell you, the young man isn’t all here,” and Dick touched his forehead.
“I thought that might be it—he acted so queerly. But he got his ticket for the other boat. You see it was this way: He came in here just as I was talking to a man who had purchased a ticket for the other boat and wanted to stay in Seattle another week. The man wanted me to exchange the ticket or give him his money back. While we were discussing the matter, this Haverlock, or whatever his name is, came in. He listened for a minute and then said he’d take the ticket and glad of the chance, for he said he was in a mighty hurry to get some nuggets of gold. So the man transferred the ticket to him, and that was the last I saw of the young fellow.”
“When did that other boat sail?” asked Sam.
“Last night, at nine o’clock.”
“Last night!” cried Dick. “Then he certainly must have rushed matters!” He looked at Jim Hendricks. “What can we do next, do you suppose?”
“You might send a wireless to the steamship,” was the suggestion. “If he’s under the name of Haverlock they ought to be able to hold him. Where did the steamer sail for?” Jim went on, to the clerk.
“For Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, and all the regular ports.”
“She carries a wireless?” asked Sam.
“Certainly. You can send a message from here if you wish. We can telephone it over to the wireless station.”
“Let’s do it!” burst out Sam. “The quicker somebody takes charge of poor Tom the better!”
“You’re right,” answered Dick. He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “What a pity we didn’t get here sooner, or that Tom wasn’t delayed!”
Then he and Sam got a blank and started to write out the wireless message that might put those on board the steamer on the track of Tom.
CHAPTER XVII
OFF FOR ALASKA
“What steamer was that?” questioned Dick and the clerk told him.
“I suppose we had better address the captain,” said Sam. “Now, the question is, What shall we say?”
“We’ll give Tom’s assumed name and a short description of him, and ask that he be held for us at one of the ports,” said Dick. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“I don’t think the captain will hold the young man on your say-so,” said the clerk, on being questioned. “He would be afraid of getting into trouble with the authorities. You had better get the police to make the request.”
“The trouble is, we don’t want to make this too public,” explained Dick. “We’d rather keep it quiet. I’ll risk the personal message to the captain.”
“I’ll sign the message with you,” said Jim Hendricks. “Maybe the captain will know our family, at least by reputation.”
“Who are you, if I may ask?” came from the clerk, curiously.
“I am James Hendricks, and my father is Colonel Wilby Hendricks.”
“Oh, yes, I guess Captain Dwight knows of your father. Your name will carry weight with him,” added the clerk, for he knew that the colonel was well-known and was rich.
After considerable trouble the message was made out and telephoned at once to the wireless station. This accomplished, there was nothing to do but to wait for an answer.
“When is the next sailing for Alaskan ports?” asked Dick.
“Our sailing, as I told you before, is day after tomorrow. But one of the other lines has a sailing tomorrow, at nine P. M.”
“They all seem to sail at nine o’clock at night,” mused Sam.
“Yes, that is the usual hour,” answered the clerk.
“Well, if we have to, we can take that boat at nine o’clock tomorrow night,” remarked Dick.
“Provided you can get accommodations,” said the clerk.
“Oh, we’ll get aboard somehow—if we really have to go.”
Jim Hendricks insisted that the Rovers ride up to his house with him, and away sped the touring car for the most fashionable quarter of Seattle. Here
the Hendricks had a beautiful mansion, and here the newcomers were cordially greeted by Mrs. Hendricks, the colonel being out of the city on business.
“You’ve just got to make yourselves at home,” said Jim. “It won’t do a bit of good to fret so much. You are bound to get hold of poor Tom sooner or later, and I can’t see that this trip to Alaska is going to hurt him any. It may do him good.”
“But he may wander away and we may lose all track of him,” answered Sam. “I’ve heard of persons disappearing like that.”
The Hendricks did all in their power to make the Rovers feel at home. Sam and Dick were utterly worn out and took a brief rest. After that came an elaborate meal, served in the Hendricks’ spacious dining room.
The telephone rang several times, but they were only local messages, of no importance to the Rover boys. But then came another message that filled them with interest, being from the wireless office.
“It’s from Captain Dwight,” explained Jim, who took the message down. “Too bad,” he murmured.
“What does he say?” demanded Sam and Dick, in a breath.
“He can’t find anybody by the name of Paul Haverlock, nor can he find any passenger answering to the description you gave him of Tom. He says, ‘Too many answering your general description,’ which means that he can’t pick Tom out, even if he is on board.”
“Tom must have changed his name again,” said Sam. “Most likely he gives any name that happens to come into his head.”
“But he ought to be on the steamer’s list of passengers.”
“That’s true. I can’t understand it.”
For a long time the Rover boys talked the matter over. Had Tom really gone to Alaska?
“We had better make some inquiries at the dock from which that steamer sailed,” said Dick. “Maybe we’ll meet somebody who will remember Tom.”
The next morning found them at the dock, Jim going with them. All sorts of men and boys were interviewed, and at last they met a taxicab driver who had carried Tom from the railroad station. He recognized the photograph at once.
“Yes, I took him from the depot to the shipping office, and then carried his handbag to the steamer,” said the taxicab driver. “He was a fine young man,” he added.
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