"I am afraid somebody has played Uncle Barnaby foul," cried Allen, his face full of anxiety. "If he had left of his own accord we would have heard from him."
"That's just my idea of it," said Paul. "But the thing of it is, who met him in San Francisco, and what did they do?"
To that question Allen could only shake his head.
"I am too tired to say much about it to-night," he said at last. "I must sleep on it."
Allen wished to retire early, but before he did so Chet told him of Captain Grady's visit.
"We won't stir," said Allen, briefly. "Let him sue Uncle Barnaby. We have nothing to do with it. Our first duty is to find uncle."
And both Paul and Chet agreed with him on this point.
Ike Watson was on his way up the Salmon River to visit a new gold diggings. He refused to stay all night, and set off in the dark, with Allen's thanks ringing in his ears for what he had done.
Despite the excitement through which he had passed, Allen slept "like a log" that night, and did not awaken until long after the others were up and Chet and Paul had the morning chores done.
"Now I feel like myself once more," he said when he came down. "And I am ready for business."
"So am I," laughed Noel Urner. "But the trouble is, I do not know how to turn without horse or conveyance. I am not used to tramping about on foot."
"If we had horses we might lend you one," said Allen. "But two nags for four people are two short," and he laughed.
During the morning Paul went out on horseback, accompanied by Noel, to see if the cattle were safe. While they were gone Allen told Chet of the hidden mine.
"It is worth a million," he said. "But it is Uncle Barnaby's secret, remember."
"I will remember," said Chet, "but we must tell Paul."
"Certainly; tell him after I am gone."
"Gone? Why, Allen, what do you mean?"
"I am going to leave home this afternoon, Chet."
"You are fooling," remarked the younger brother.
"Never more serious in my life, Chet."
"And you are going——" Chet hesitated.
"Direct to San Francisco to hunt up tidings of Uncle Barnaby."
Of course, Chet was taken completely back by Allen's announcement.
"To San Francisco!" he ejaculated.
"Yes, Chet. I feel that it is my duty to discover what has become of uncle, if possible, at once."
"I know, but it's such a journey——"
"I am not afraid to take it. I will ride to the nearest station on the railroad, which is not over a hundred and forty miles, and then take the train. The journey on the cars will not take over a couple of days, all told."
"And the cost——"
"I will have to take what we have saved from the thieves. But surely, Chet, you do not regret taking that for such a purpose?"
"No! no! take it all! I was thinking if it would be enough."
"I will make it do. I will buy a cut-rate ticket from Ogden, if I can."
"And what shall Paul and I do in the meantime?" questioned Chet in some dismay.
"Do nothing but guard the cattle and the place generally. I will be back, or let you hear from me just as soon as I can."
Paul was equally astonished at Allen's sudden determination. It was, however, what Noel Urner had expected.
"Yes, I would go if I were you," said the latter. "And if you want me to, I will go with you," he added. "I must confess I am deeply interested in this strange case."
"I would like you to go with me first rate," returned Allen. "And whether uncle is found or not, I will promise that you shall be well paid for all the trouble you will be put to."
"I want no pay for helping you. I will enjoy the bit of detective work, as one might call it. But how am I to get to the railroad station without a horse?"
"You can take both horses, if necessary," suggested Chet.
"That's so; although we ought to have at least one animal on the ranch," added Paul.
"We can both ride one animal as far as Dottery's ranch," said Allen, "and there we can either borrow or hire another animal."
"How far is Dottery's?"
"Only about twenty-five miles. We ought to reach it by dark, if we start shortly."
"We can start at once, as far as I am concerned," laughed Noel.
So it was decided to lose no time, and Chet at once set to work to prepare dinner and also some food to be carried along.
Less than an hour later Jasper was brought out and Noel Urner sprang into the saddle, with Allen behind him on the blanket.
"Keep a close watch for more thieves while I am gone!" cried Allen.
"We will!" shouted Paul. "And you take care for more doctored bridges!"
A parting wave of the hand and the ranch was left behind, and Allen was off on a journey that was to be filled with adventures and excitement from start to finish.
Chet and Paul watched the horse and his two riders out of sight, and then with rather heavy hearts returned to the house. The place seemed more lonely than ever with both Allen and Noel Urner gone.
"It's going to be a long time waiting for Allen's return," sighed Paul.
"Perhaps not," returned Chet. "He left me with a secret to tell you, Paul."
And Chet lost no time in relating Allen's story of the hidden mine of great wealth.
"And perhaps we can explore the place during his absence," Paul said, after he had expressed his astonishment and asked half a dozen questions.
"I don't know about that, Paul. We may not be able to find the opening Allen mentioned, and then, again, he may not wish us to do so."
"Why should he object?"
"I don't know."
"We'll have ten days or two weeks on our hands, at the very least. We might as well take a look at that wealth as not."
"Supposing somebody followed us and found out the secret? They would locate a claim before we could turn a hand."
"We will make sure that we are not followed," said Paul, who was anxious to see if all Allen had told could really be true.
Chet continued to demur, but after Allen and Noel had been gone the whole of the next day he gave in, and seemed as anxious as Paul to do something which would make it less lonely. Apparently the horse thieves had left the vicinity, so there was nothing to be feared in that direction during an absence that they meant should not last more than one whole day.
Sunday came between, and on Monday morning they arose early and had breakfast ere it was yet daylight. They decided to take Rush, both to ride when on a level and each to take a turn at walking when on the uphill trails.
Allen had left Chet minute directions as to how the opening to the hidden mine could be located, he having fixed the locality well in his mind before leaving it.
It was rather a gloomy day, but this the two boys did not mind.
"It's better than being so raging hot," said Paul. "It makes my head ache to ride when it's so fearfully hot."
"If it only don't rain," returned Chet. "We need it bad enough, goodness knows, but it has held off so long it might as well hold off twenty-four hours longer."
"I doubt if we get rain just yet. It hasn't threatened long enough," replied his brother.
Before the two left the ranch they saw to it that every building was locked up tight, and an alarm, in the shape of a loaded gun, set to the doors and windows.
"That ought to scare would-be thieves away," said Chet. "They'll imagine somebody is firing at them."
The rest for a couple of days had done Rush much good, and he made no work of carrying the two boys along the trail that led to the second foothills.
Long before noon they reached the hills, and here stopped for lunch.
"And now for the wonderful mine!" cried Chet. Then, happening to glance across the plains below, he added: "Gracious, Paul! What is that?"
The attention of both young ranchmen was at once drawn to a round, black cloud on the horizon to the east. It was hardly a yard in diameter, apparently, when first seen, but it increased in size with great rapidity.
It was moving directly toward them, and in less than two minutes from the time Chet uttered his cry it had covered fully a third of the distance.
"From what I have heard I should say that was a cyclone cloud," exclaimed Paul. "And still——"
"Who ever heard of a cyclone up here among the foothills," returned Chet. "I don't believe they ever strike this territory."
"I certainly never heard of their doing so," returned Paul. "But still, you must remember, that cyclones are erratic things at the best."
"It looks as if it were coming directly this way."
"So it does, and I reckon the best thing we can do is to make tracks for some place of safety."
"That is true. Come on!"
Both boys sprang into the saddle and started up the trail. Hardly had a hundred feet of the way been covered than a strange rush and roar of wind filled the air.
"It's coming," shouted Paul. "Quick, Chet, down into that hollow before it strikes us!"
He plunged into the basin he had designated, which was six or eight feet below the level of the trail and not over ten yards in diameter. Chet followed, ducking low as he did so, for already was the air filled with flying branches.
"None too soon!" ejaculated Paul. "Down, Rush!"
Between them they managed to get the horse to lie down close to a wall of dirt and rocks. They lay near, waiting almost breathlessly for that awful time of peril to pass.
No one who has not experienced the dreadful effects of a cyclone can imagine it, be the description of it ever so fine. That strange rush and roar, that density of the air, accompanied by a feeling as if the very breath was about to be drawn from one's lungs, the flying débris, all unite to chill the stoutest heart and make one wonder if the next moment will not be the last.
The cyclone was short and sharp. From the time it first struck the foothills until the time it spent itself in the distance was barely four minutes, yet, what an effect did it leave behind!
On all sides of them many trees were literally torn up by the roots, brush was leveled as if cut by a mowing machine, and dirt and pebbles which had been perhaps carried for miles were deposited here, there, and everywhere. Ranch boys though they were, and accustomed to many things strange and wonderful, Chet and Paul could only gaze at the work of destruction in awe, and silently thank heaven that their lives had been spared.
They had escaped with slight injury. Several sharp sticks and stones had scratched Chet's neck as he lay prostrate, and Paul's arm was greatly lamed by a blow from the branch of a tree which fell directly across the opening, pinning the horse down in such a fashion that he could not rise.
"We must liberate Rush first of all," cried Chet. "Poor fellow! Whoa, Rush, we'll soon help you," he added, and patted the animal on the neck to soothe him.
Evidently Rush understood, for he lay quiet. Then Chet and Paul, using all of their strength, raised up one end of the tree, which, fortunately, was not large. As soon as he felt himself free, Rush scrambled up out of harm's way, and they let the tree fall back again.
"That is the kind of an adventure I never want to experience again," said Paul when he had somewhat recovered his breath. "My, how the wind did tear things!"
"It was a full-fledged cyclone and no mistake," returned his brother. "Had that struck a town it would have razed every building in it."
"That's true, and oh!" went on Paul suddenly, "I wonder if it has destroyed the marks Allen left whereby the mine is to be found?"
Chet stared at him speechless.
"Perhaps!" he gasped at last. "Come, let us go on and see!"
There was considerable difficulty in getting out of the hollow into which they had so unceremoniously thrust themselves. Rush was somewhat frightened still, and instead of riding him, they led him out by a circuitous way which took them nearly a hundred yards out of their path.
They found the trail almost impassable in spots, and more than once were compelled to make a wide detour in order to avoid fallen trees and gathered brush.
"A cyclone like that can do more damage than can be repaired in ten years," observed Chet as they labored along on foot. "I wonder where it started from?"
"Somewhere out on the flat lands near the river, I reckon," returned Paul.
On they went around trees and rocks and brush, until the way grew so bad that both came to an involuntary halt.
"It looks as if the very trail had been swept away," said Paul. "I can't see anything of it ahead."
"Nor I. Whoever would have thought of such a thing when we left home?"
"We can't go on in this direction, that's sure. What's best to be done?"
Both looked around for several minutes and then decided to cross a rocky stretch to the right. They had to do this with great care, as the road was full of sink holes and crevices, and they did not want to break a leg or have the horse injured.
The stretch crossed, they found themselves on a little hill. All about them could be seen the effects of the cyclone, not a tree or bush had escaped its ravages.
"It looks as if the landmarks Allen had mentioned had been swept away," said Paul, as he gazed around hopelessly. "I can't see the first of them."
"It would certainly seem so," rejoined Chet. "If they are, they won't be able to locate the mine again, excepting to sail down the underground river."
"That is so—excepting Uncle Barnaby turns up with another and better way of locating it," replied Paul very seriously.
The desolation on all sides of them and the failure to locate the marks Allen had mentioned caused Paul and Chet to become much downcast. They had had their long and tedious journey from the ranch home for nothing.
"I suppose there isn't anything to do but to go back," remarked Chet dismally, as he thrashed around in the brush with a stick he had picked up. "We are as far away from the mine as we were when we started."
"Let us be in no hurry to return," rejoined Paul. "We'll give Rush a chance to get back his wind."
Leaving the trusty animal to roam about as pleased him, the two boys threw themselves on the grass and gave themselves up to their reflections.
"I'll tell you what I would like to do," remarked Chet. "I would like to find the chap who cleaned us out of that seven hundred dollars."
"I wonder that Allen didn't get Watson to stop the horse thieves and search them," mused Paul. "He must have known they had the money."
"He was too played out to think of much just then, I reckon. It was a good deal to escape with the horses without getting shot."
"The cross we found in the barn belonged to that Saul Mangle beyond a doubt. The initials prove that."
"I believe you."
"We must watch out for that Mangle, and if we can ever get our hands on him, make him give up our money and then have him locked up."
"It is not so easy to lock up a man when you are miles and miles away from a jail."
An hour went by, and the boys thought it time to start on the return. Rush was called back from a thicket into which he had wandered and both mounted, for the trail now lead almost entirely down hill.
After the cyclone the sun had come out strong and hot, and halfway back to the ranch the brothers were glad enough to stop beside the bank of a tiny mountain stream and obtain a drink and water the horse.
They were about to depart when Rush pricked up his ears and gave a peculiar whinny.
"Hush! What does that mean?" Paul asked in quick alarm.
"Draw behind the brush and see," replied Chet, cautiously. "Those horse thieves may be still in the vicinity."
"Oh, they would not remain here," said Paul.
Yet he followed his brother behind the brush. They tried to make Rush come, too, but for once the animal would not obey.
"Come, Rush, come," whispered Chet. "Why he never acted this way before."
"The cyclone upset his mind, I reckon," said Paul, with a faint show of humor. "Make him come."
But the more Chet tried the more obstinate did the animal become. Finally he broke away altogether and ran off, kicking up his heels behind him.
"Well, I never!" gasped Chet.
"Quick, after him! I believe he means to run away!" cried Paul.
"Rush run away!" said Chet reproachfully. It hurt him a good deal to have Paul speak in that fashion of the horse he so loved.
Both boys leaped from the thicket and after Rush, who was now running up the bank of the stream at top speed. A turn was made and the brothers burst out into a loud and joyous shout.
There, not fifty feet away, was Lilly, the faithful mare Allen had fancied was drowned in the Black Rock River. Rush stood beside her, licking her neck affectionately.
"Allen's horse!" cried Chet.
"And as well as ever almost," added Paul, as he rushed up and began an examination.
The mare was evidently glad to see both the boys and her mate. She stood trembling as Chet and Paul examined her.
"A few slight bruises, that is all," said Paul. "Won't Allen be glad when he hears of it?"
"Indeed he will be. He loves Lilly as if she was his best girl. It's a good thing for us, too, Paul," he went on. "Now each can have a mount home."
"Right you are—if Lilly can carry me."
Paul was speedily on the mare's back. She seemed willing enough to carry him; in fact, glad to be in the keeping of a human being she knew.
"If she could only talk what a tale she would have to tell," observed Paul as they rode homeward. "I wonder how she got out of the river?"
"I reckon we'll never know, unless Allen makes her talk. He can make her do most everything," laughed Chet.
On they went over the rocks and the level prairie beyond. The sun was now sinking in the west, and ere long the evening shadows would be upon them.
"Well, we found a horse even if we didn't find a mine, and that's something," said Paul, as they reached the trail beside the river.
"But I hope that the mine isn't lost for good," replied Chet, quickly. "The mine is worth a good deal more than even Lilly."
"Maybe you can't tell that to Allen."
"Oh, yes I can; for he saw the wealth there, you know."
"If only he finds Uncle Barnaby," sighed Paul. "Do you know, the more I think of it, the more I become convinced that something dreadful has happened to him."
"And that is the way I look at it, too, Paul. If we could——"
Chet stopped short and stared ahead. They had come in sight of the semi-stockade around their ranch house.
"Our furniture and trunks!" gasped Paul, following the direction of Chet's stare. "What on earth does it mean?"
There on the grass lay their furniture in a confused mass—tables, chairs, trunks, clothing, one on top of another. And in another heap were the farming implements from the barn.
"Captain Grady's dirty work!" cried Paul. "He has come here and taken possession during our absence."
Paul was right, for at that moment Captain Grady appeared at the stockade gate, gun in hand.
The sarcastic smile on the captain's face told plainly that he rather enjoyed the situation. He gazed at the boys without saying a word.
His left hand was tied up in a bandage, showing that he had not entirely escaped the gun traps which had been set. As a matter of fact, half a dozen bird shot still remained in the fleshy part of his thumb.
"What does this mean?" demanded Paul at length. He spoke as calmly as he could, although tremendously excited.
"Reckon you have eyes an' can see," growled Captain Grady. "I told you that you hadn't seen the end of this, an' that I would have this place in my possession putty quick."
"You had no right to break into our house and fire our things out!" cried Chet.
"I deny as how it's your house, youngster. It belongs to me, as does the whole ranch property. There be your traps, an' the quicker you git them off this ground the better it will suit me."
"We won't move a thing until we put them back into that house," retorted Chet hot-headedly. "This is no way to gain possession, and you know it."
"Halt where you are!" Captain Grady raised his gun and pointed it at Chet, who was in advance. "You'll not come near this gate, mind that!"
"I'm going in, and you won't stop me," retorted Chet.
"Don't be rash, Chet," whispered Paul, riding up and plucking his younger brother by the sleeve.
"You try and cross this gateway and I'll fire on you, sure as fate," went on the captain.
Urged by Paul, Chet brought Rush to a stand. The boys were about thirty feet from where Captain Grady stood on guard.
"Now, the best thing you fellers can do," said the captain, sharply, "is to ride over to Dottery's ranch, an' git a wagon an' tote these traps away. If they are left more 'n a week I'll pitch them into the river, mind you. If you ain't satisfied at the way matters have turned, you can go to law, just as you advised me to do," and again the man smiled sarcastically.
"We certainly will go to law," replied Paul. "Are you alone here?"
"That's not for you to ask."
"I presume you hung around here and saw my brother go off first and then waited for us to go away."
"I ain't standing here as a target for questions," growled Captain Grady.
"You are a sneak and worse, Captain Grady!" burst out Chet. "If there is any law in Idaho you shall have your full dose of it, mark my word!"
"Hi! you young bantam, don't talk to me in that fashion," roared the man in a rage. "Come, I've told you what is best to do. Now clear out. I shall keep watch, an' if you attempt to play any trick in the dark on me you'll find yourself running up against a charge of buckshot."
That Captain Grady was in dead earnest was very evident. He scowled viciously and walked a step forward.
Yet the boys were not daunted. They held their ground, and Paul even took a slight move forward on Lilly's back.
"Supposing we go to Dottery's ranch," said the youth. "If we tell our story, don't you imagine Dottery will turn in and help us bounce you out of here?"
"No, you'll get no help at Dottery's."
"He is our friend, and he will not stand up for your doings, even if you do own the ranch over the river."
"Well, why don't you go an' see Dottery," snapped Captain Grady.
"We will—and some other people, too," cried Chet.
"And in the meantime, if any of our stuff is lost, you'll pay for it," added Paul.
"I won't be responsible for anything. Now clear out an' leave me alone."
The two brothers looked at each other. Neither knew exactly what to do. Paul finally made a sign to withdraw, and they turned and rode down the river trail to the belt of cottonwoods.
Captain Grady remained at the gateway, his baneful eyes on them until the trees hid them from view. Then he shut the heavy gate and walked slowly toward the house, rubbing his grizzled chin reflectively.
"They won't come back to-night, I'm pretty certain of that," he said to himself. "An' by to-morrow I'll be better fixed to hold my own."
"It's a shame, Paul!" ejaculated Chet, almost crying with rage. "We ought to have shot him where he stood."
"I suppose many a man would have done it," returned Paul, somewhat moodily. "But we must get him out."
"He won't go out without a fight."
"I think he will—when we get enough of a crowd against him. I more than half believe he is totally alone, although the furniture and other stuff look as if he had had somebody to help him."
"He's been hanging around watching his chance," went on Chet. "Who knows but what he has been spying on us ever since his last visit."
"Oh, I trust not, Chet!" Paul looked much disturbed. "He may have overheard some of our talk about Uncle Barnaby's mine, you know."
"That's so! What if he did! He is rascal enough to try to locate it and set up a claim, eh?"
"Undoubtedly. Come on; the best we can do is to ride to Dottery's and try to obtain help. It's a long journey by night, but there's nothing else to do."
"I won't mind it—if only Dottery will turn in and help us. He ought to, but he always was a peculiar fellow. He may not want to make an enemy of Captain Grady, seeing as the ranches adjoin. But come on, while daylight lasts."
And off the two brothers struck, along the river trail, and then down the road Allen and Noel Urner had pursued on their way to the far-away railroad station. They realized that in another hour darkness would be upon them.
The boys knew the way well, having traveled it a dozen times in search of stray cattle. They rode on, side by side, urging on the tired horses and discussing the situation in all its various phases.
Slowly the sun faded from view behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows over the foothills and the level stretches beyond. The night birds sang their parting song, and then came the almost utter silence of the night.
"When do you suppose we'll reach Dottery's?" questioned Chet, after several miles had been covered.
"If all goes well, we'll get there by one or two o'clock," returned his brother. "You must remember we have Demon Hollow to cross, and that's no fool of a job in the dark."
"Especially if the Demon is abroad," laughed Chet. He was only joking, and did not believe in the old trappers' stories about the ghost in hiding at the bottom of the rocky pass.
When darkness fell the hoofstrokes of the horses sounded out doubly loud on the semi-stony road. Yet, to the boys, even this was better than that intense stillness, which made one feel, as Chet expressed it, "a hundred miles from nowhere at all."
So tired were the horses that the boys had their hands full making them keep their gait. They would trot a few steps and then drop into a stolid walk.
"I don't blame them much," said Chet, sympathetically. "It's doing two days' work in one. But never mind, they shall have a good rest when it's all over."
By ten o'clock it was pitch dark. To be sure the stars were shining, but they gave forth but a feeble light. The boys had to hold their animals at a tight rein to keep them from stumbling into unexpected holes.
"It will be nearer three o'clock than two before we get there at this rate," grumbled Paul. "Just look ahead and see how dark and forbidding the Hollow looks."
"Not the most cheerful spot in the world truly," rejoined Chet, as he strained his eyes to pierce the heavy shadows. "Let us get past it as soon as we can."
"Afraid, Chet?"
"Oh, no, only I—I would rather be on the level trail beyond the pass."
Paul said no more, having no desire to hurt his younger brother's feelings. To tell the exact truth, he himself felt a bit "off." It was growing toward midnight.
Down and down led the road, between two rocky crags. Soon the last trace of light was left behind, and they had to let the horses pick their own way as best they might.
Suddenly Chet gave a start and a cry.
"O, Paul, what is that?"
"Where?"
"Over to the left."
Paul turned in his saddle. As he did so an object not over two feet in length and of a gray and white color, with some black, swept to one side of them.
"Can it be a pig?" gasped Chet.
"A pig? No, it's a badger, out on the forage. Don't you smell him?"
Chet recovered and unslung his gun. He tried to take aim in the gloom.
"Don't fire!" said Paul. "What is the use? It's only a waste of ammunition. The badger isn't hurting anything, and he's a good distance from the ranch. Let him go."
By the time Chet had listened to all this the badger had disappeared. The animal was not used to being aroused and was more frightened than any one.
They passed on. The very bottom of the Hollow was at hand. The horses proceeded slowly, realizing the peril of the place.
Once Rush went down into a hole nearly throwing Chet over his head. But the youth held on, and Rush arose all right, with nothing but a slight scrape on his left foreleg.
They peered with watchful eyes up and down the silent pass. Not a sign of any life was there. The water flowed on with a muffled murmur and the wind sighed through the deep opening, and that was all. In another five minutes the pass was left behind.
For some reason both boys drew a long breath of relief when the high ground beyond was reached. The strain was gone, and now, by contrast, the road looked as bright to them as if the sun was about to rise.
"Come to think of it, we may as well take it easy," remarked Paul. "It isn't likely that Dottery will care to make a move before daylight."
"Yes; but if we get there sooner, we'll have a chance to rest up a bit, and we need that, and so do the horses."
"I didn't think of that. Well, forward we go."
An hour passed and then another. Soon after Chet gave a joyous cry.
"There are Dottery's outbuildings! We'll soon be there now!"
"Right you are, Chet. I wonder——" Paul stopped short. "Oh, look over there!" he cried.
He pointed to a barn not a great distance back from the road.
The door of the structure was open and within flashed the light of a lantern.
"Dottery must be up, or else——" began Chet.
"Horse thieves!"
Both boys uttered the word simultaneously. Could it be possible that the thieves were raiding their nearest neighbor?
"Wait. Let us dismount and investigate," whispered Paul. "Don't do anything rash," this as Chet started to run toward the barn.
Thus cautioned, the younger boy paused. The horses were tied up behind some brush, and, guns in hand, the pair crept across the road and over a wire fence into the field.
Hardly had they advanced a dozen steps when three men came out of the barn, leading four horses. They made for an opening in the fence not a rod from where the boys flung themselves flat on the grass.
From the description they had received, the lads made up their minds that the men were Saul Mangle, Darry Nodley, and Jeff Jones.
Chet and Paul could hardly suppress their excitement as they saw the horse thieves move toward the opening in the fence. Chet drew up his gun and pointed it at the leader.
"Don't fire! Wait!" cautioned Paul. "There are three of them, remember."
"I wonder where Dottery is?" questioned the younger boy, with his hand still on the trigger.
"Asleep, most likely."
"We ought to arouse him. Run, Paul, while I keep watch."
"I will, but don't do anything rash during my absence," replied Paul Winthrop.
He sneaked along in the tall grass until the outbuildings were left a hundred feet and sped like a deer toward the ranch home, showing dimly in the grim shadows ahead.
Less than sixty seconds passed, and he was pounding vigorously on the front door of the heavy log building. Not content with using his fist he banged away with the toe of his cowhide boot.
"Who's thar?" came from within presently.
"Mr. Dottery!"
"That's me, stranger."
"Come out. It's Paul Winthrop. There are horse thieves at your barn."
"What!" roared Dottery. He was a heavy-built man, with a voice like a giant. "The same chaps ez robbed you?"
He unbarred the door and came out on a run, gun in hand and a long pistol in his belt. He was an old settler, and rarely took the trouble to undress when he went to rest for the night.
"Yes, the same, unless I am very much mistaken. My brother Chet is down there now on the watch."
"I'll fix 'em. Go back and call Jack, my man."
Paul hesitated and then did as directed. It took some time to arouse the cowboy, Jack Blowfen, but once aroused, the man quickly took in the situation, and arming himself, joined the boy in a rush after Dottery.
"The pesky rascals!" he muttered. "Yer brother told us about 'em when he stopped here on his way to the railroad station. It's a pity Ike Watson didn't plug every one of 'em when he had the chance. Next thing yer know they'll be runnin' off with a bunch o' cattle."
"Be careful when you shoot; my brother Chet is there," continued Paul, not wishing Chet to be mistaken for a horse thief in the dark.
"I know the lad, and I also know this Saul Mangle and his crowd," returned Jack Blowfen. "I owe Mangle one for the way he treated me in Deadwood one day."
He ran so swiftly that Paul had hard work to keep up with him. Dottery had already disappeared in the darkness of the night.
Bang! Bang! The shots came from behind the barn, while Paul was some distance away. It was Dottery firing at the thieves. Jack Blowfen was chasing them down by the wire fence.
"Paul! Paul! Hold on!"
It was Chet's voice. As he cried out the lad arose from the grass and caught his brother by the sleeve. Paul had passed so close that he had almost trodden on Chet.
"Come on, Chet."
"I'm coming. But hadn't we better look to our horses?"
"In a minute. Let us find out what that firing means."
Paul led the way in the direction of the barn. There, in the gloom, they saw two men struggling violently. They were Dottery and the negro, Jeff Jones. The other horse thieves and Jack Blowfen were nowhere in sight.
Two horses were running about wildly, alarmed by the shots in the dark. Both were bridled but had no saddles.
"Catch the hosses!" yelled Dottery, as he made out the forms of the boys. "Don't let 'em get out of that break in the fence!"
"Have you that man?" cried Paul.
"I will have in a second."
The brothers ran for the animals as directed. It was no light work to secure them. When it was accomplished they ran the horses into the barn and closed the doors. As they came out panting from their exertions, they heard a gunshot from the brush on the opposite side of the road, and then the voice of Jack Blowfen calling out:
"Let them hosses go, you rascals! Take that, Saul Mangle, fer the trick yer played me in Deadwood!"
"Rush and Lilly!" gasped Chet. He said no more, but started in the direction of the encounter. He was determined his horse should not be taken again. Paul came on his heels. Both boys were now sufficiently aroused to fight even with their firearms. The wire fence was cleared at a single bound and into the brush they dove pell-mell.
That Jack Blowfen was having a fierce hand-to-hand contest with his antagonist was plain. The boys could hear both men thrashing around at a lively rate.
"You've hit me in the leg, and I'll never forgive you for it!" they heard Saul Mangle exclaim. "How do you like that, you milk-and-water cow puncher?"
"I don't like it, and ain't going ter stand it, yer low down hoss thief and gambler," returned Jack Blowfen, and then came the fall of one body over another, just as Paul and Chet leaped into the little opening where the battle was taking place.
They saw Jack Blowfen on his back with Saul Mangle on top of him. The horse thief had the butt of a heavy pistol raised threateningly. He looked alarmed at the unexpected appearance of the boys.
"Let up there!" sang out Paul. "Let up at once!"
The cry and the glint of the boys' weapons decided Mangle. With a low muttering he gave Jack Blowfen's body a kick and sprang for the bushes.
Chet and Paul went after him, leaving the cowboy to stagger to his feet and regain his pistols.
The boys followed Mangle not over a dozen feet. Then they came upon Darry Nodley, who had several horses in a bunch, among them Rush and Lilly. The man had been waiting for the leader of the gang to finish his row with Blowfen.
Saul Mangle was ahead of the two boys, but ere he could leap upon the back of the nearest animal Paul ran up to him and seized him by the arm.
"Stop!" he ordered. "You cannot take those horses. We will shoot you both if you attempt it!"
"The Winthrop youngsters," muttered Darry Nodley. "How did they find their way here?"
He attempted to move on, thinking Mangle would follow. But now Chet barred the way.
The ranch boy had his gun up to his shoulder and there was a determined look on his sunburnt face. He was fighting for Rush as much as for anything else.
"Get down!" was all he said, but the tone in which the words were uttered left no room for argument.
Darry Nodley hesitated and thought at first to feel for his own gun. But then he changed his mind. He saw that Chet was thoroughly aroused, and saw, too, that Jack Blowfen was coming up.
"We'll have to make tracks," he cried to Saul Mangle, and leaped to the ground, putting the horse between himself and Chet, and ran for the bushes.
In the meantime Paul and Saul Mangle were having a hand-to-hand fight. The boy fought well, and the wounded man had all he could do to defend himself. Finally he went limping after Nodley, but not before Paul had relieved him of his gun. The brave lad could have shot the thief with ease, but could not bring himself to take the risk of killing his antagonist.
"Where are they?" roared Jack Blowfen, coming up. "Which way did they go?"
Paul pointed in the direction. At once Blowfen ran off. In another second Chet and Paul were left alone with the horses. The sounds from the distance told them that Saul Mangle and Darry Nodley were doing their best to escape from the neighborhood.
"Our money!" cried Chet. "We ought to have made an effort to get that seven hundred dollars!"
"That's so—but it's too late now, unless we go after the pair on horseback."
"Let us return Dottery's horses to the barn first and see how he has made out with the negro."
They took the horses in charge and passed with them across the road and through the break in the wire fence. At the barn they found the ranch owner in the act of making Jeff Jones a close prisoner by tying his hands and legs with odd bits of harness straps.
"Got this one, anyway," growled Dottery. "Whar are the others?"
"Jack Blowfen has gone after them," replied Paul. "Here are your horses."
"Good enough. Say, will you watch this man if I follow Jack?" went on the ranch owner, anxiously.
"Of course," exclaimed Chet. "If you can capture Saul Mangle, do so. We believe he has seven hundred dollars belonging to us."
"So Allen told me."
The boys took charge of the negro, and mounting one of the horses Caleb Dottery rode out of the inclosure. He took the lantern with him, thus leaving those behind in darkness.
"Strike a light, Chet, and see if you can't find another lantern in the barn," said Paul. "I'll watch Jones so he don't get away."
"Dis am werry hard on a poah man," moaned the negro. He was fearfully frightened, for he knew full well how stern was the justice usually meted out to horse thieves in that section of the country.
"You ought to have thought of that before you started in this business," replied Paul.
"It was Mangle coaxed me into de work, sah. He said as how he had a right to de hosses."
"Indeed! I suppose he said he had a right to our horses, too," went on the youth, with a sarcasm that was entirely lost on the prisoner.
"Yes, sah."
"In that case you will have to suffer for your simpleness," was Paul's short response. He did not believe the colored man.
"No lantern in the barn, so far as I can see," called out Chet. "Better march the fellow up to the house."
"He can't march with his legs tied."
"I reckon he can hobble a bit."
Jeff Jones was unwilling to move, thinking he had a better chance of escape while out in the open. But Chet and Paul each caught him by the arm, and groaning and trembling the colored man was forced to move slowly toward the ranch home.
Before moving to the house Chet had driven the horses into the barn and locked the door, so now the animals were safe, at least for the time being.
It was found that Jeff Jones had received an ugly wound in the shoulder. This Paul set to work to dress, taking good care, however, that the prisoner should be allowed no chance of escape.
"Wot is yo' gwine to do wid me?" asked Jeff Jones as the work progressed. "Ain't gwine ter tote me ter town, is yo'?"
"That depends upon what Mr. Dottery says," replied Chet. "He's the boss of this ranch."
"Better let me go," urged the colored man. "If yo' don't dar will be big trouble ahead."
"Don't imagine we are to be scared so easily," returned Chet, smartly. "We have a bigger rascal to deal with even than you," he added.
"Yo' mean Saul Mangle?"
"No, I mean Captain Hank Grady," replied the boy, without stopping to think.
"Captain Hank Grady! Wot yo' know ob him?" ejaculated Jeff Jones. "Did yo' know about him and yo' Uncle Barnaby——" the colored man broke off short.
"My Uncle Barnaby!" exclaimed Chet. "What made you think of him in connection with Captain Grady?"
"Oh, I know a lot about him an' de captain," said Jeff Jones suggestively. "A heap dat maybe yo' boys would gib a lot ter know about."
Allen Winthrop knew full well that he had a long journey before him and one that would, perhaps, be full of peril, yet his heart did not fail him as he and Noel Urner rode away, bound first for Dottery's ranch, and then for the railroad station, over a hundred miles away.
"You must keep up a stout heart, Allen," said the young man from the east. "Perhaps all is well with your uncle in spite of appearances."
"I am not daunted by what lies ahead," said the young ranchman. "But I am convinced that Uncle Barnaby has been led into some great trouble. Were it otherwise we would surely have heard from him ere this."
At Dottery's they put up over night, and set off at sunrise in the morning; Allen riding the animal from the ranch and Noel using a large and powerful beast hired to him by Dottery.
"Thirty-five miles to-day," observed Allen, as they pushed on along a somewhat hilly trail, lined on either side by cactus and other low plants.
"Is that the distance to Daddy Wampole's hotel, as you call it?"
"Yes—by the roads. The direct route would not make it over thirty miles, but we can't fly as the birds do."
"We ought to make thirty-five miles easily enough."
"We could on a level. But you must remember we have several hills to climb and half a dozen water courses to ford. I imagine, too, you will get tired of the saddle before nightfall."
"Oh, I can stand it," laughed Noel Urner, "thanks to my experience in the riding schools in New York and my frequent exercises in Central Park."
"A big difference between Central Park and this, eh? I would like to see the park some time," returned Allen.
On they went, taking advantage of the early morning while the sun was still low. The level stretch was passed and then they came to a good-sized brook. Beyond was a belt of timber and the first of the hills.
They watered the horses and took a drink themselves, and pushed on without stopping further. Allen knew they must keep on the move if they expected to reach Daddy Wampole's crossroads ranch before the evening shadows fell.
On through the forest of spruce and hemlock, with here and there a tall cottonwood, they spurred their horses. The foot of the hill was soon reached, and up they toiled.
"A grand country," murmured Noel Urner.
"And big room for improvements," returned Allen, grimly. "It will take a deal of labor to put this land in shape for use."
"We never realize what the pioneers had to contend with when they first settled this country until we see things as they are here. To cut down forests, level the land, build houses and barns, and fix roads—it's an immense amount of labor, truly."
At noon they halted near the top of a second hill, and here started up just enough of a fire to boil themselves a pot of coffee. They had brought jerked meat and crackers from home and made a comfortable, if not luxurious meal. In twenty minutes they were again on the way, the horses in the meantime having also been fed.
"Daddy Wampole's ranch is our post office," explained Allen, as they rode along side by side. "The mail comes down from Deadwood once a week. It's not very extensive and Wampole usually puts everything in a soap box and lets every comer pick out whatever belongs to him."
Noel laughed. "I've heard of such doings before," he said. "I suppose he has another box of letters to be mailed."
"Exactly."
"It's not a very safe way to do. Letters might easily be stolen or taken by mistake. Who knows but what some communication from your uncle was carried off by another?"
Allen's face grew serious. "I never thought of that. But who would be mean enough to do it?"
"The man who sent that forged letter to me would be mean enough."
"So he would! I must ask Wampole if he remembers any letter addressed to us."
It was now the hottest part of the day. The road was dry and dusty and the horses hung out their tongues as they toiled onward. All were glad when they reached a portion of the road overhung by huge rocks a hundred feet or more in height.
"A day in the saddle seems a long while," said Noel Urner.
"And we have four more days to follow," smiled Allen. "I was afraid it would tire you."
"Oh, I am all right yet, Allen. But look, what is that ahead, a building?"
"That's the crossroads hotel. Come, we have less than a mile more to go."
The sight of the rude building ahead raised Noel Urner's spirits. Off he went on a gallop, with Allen close at his heels. In ten minutes they drew up at the rude horse block and dismounted.
Old Daddy Wampole, then a well-known character throughout Idaho, came out on the porch of his ranch to greet them.
"Back ag'in, hey?" he called out to Allen. "Wall, thar ain't no new mail in sense ye war here afore."
"I know that, Daddy," replied the young man. "I didn't come for the mail, exactly. My friend and I are bound for the railroad station."
"Goin' ter San Francisco?"
"Yes; we want to stop here to-night."
"Ye air welcome ter do thet," and Daddy Wampole gave Noel a friendly nod.
The young man was introduced and all three entered the ranch, one room of which did duty as a general store, barroom, and post office. Before anything else could be spoken of, Allen questioned Wampole concerning the letters which had been in the box for several weeks back, and the people who had called for them.
"I don't remember much about the letters, but I recerlect thet Cap'n Grady took most all ez came in," was the suggestive reply from the so-styled postmaster.
"So he took most of the letters, did he?" said Allen, slowly. "How many of them, on a rough guess?"
"Seven or eight."
"And you can't remember if any of them were addressed to me?"
"No, I don't recerlect thet, Allen, but hold on—do ye suspect the cap'n o' tamperin' with yer mail?"
"I don't believe he is above such an action," replied the young man, bluntly.
"Wall, neither do I, privately speakin'. I was goin' ter say," went on the ranch owner slowly, "when the cap'n got the letters he walked over there to the old place and tore 'em open. Maybe——"
There was no need for the man to go on. Allen had already left the apartment and was hurrying across the road to what had in former days been the only house in the section.
It was a rude affair, now half fallen into decay. Outside, under the overhanging logs of the roof, was situated a bench sometimes used by travelers as a resting place. Here many a yarn had been told, and many a "hoss deal" talked over and closed.
Straight to the bench went Allen, and in the fading light looked eagerly on all sides for bits of paper of any kind. He found a great number and gathered them all into his empty dinner pouch. When he was sure there were no more scraps in the vicinity he returned to the house.
"Well, what have you?" asked Noel Urner, with interest.
"I have nearly fifty scraps of letters," said Allen. "I must look them over at once."
A lamp was lit, and, spreading out the scraps on a large, flat board, Allen set to work to sort out the various pieces. It was tedious work and Noel Urner assisted him.
Suddenly the young ranchman uttered a low cry.
"Look! Here is part of a letter that was addressed to me," he said.
And he held up a scrap which bore the words: "—you and Chet can meet me and Paul——"
"Is it in your uncle's handwriting?" questioned the young man from the east.
"Yes."
"Then it would seem as if some one had stolen your letter, certainly."
"That's just what was done!" ejaculated Allen. "I wonder——" he stopped short.
"What do you wonder?"
"I wonder if Captain Grady had anything to do with Uncle Barnaby's disappearance."
"The cap'n air a slick one," put in Daddy Wampole. "I never liked him from the day I fust sot eyes onto him. An' seem' as how he's achin' ter git thet ranch from ye boys, why, it ain't surprisin' he took thet letter and would do more, if 'twas fer his own benefit."
"It won't be for his benefit if I find he is playing such an underhand game," rejoined Allen, grimly. The thought that Captain Grady had stolen his letter angered him thoroughly. "He fancies that we are only three boys, but he'll find out that even boys can do something when they are put to it."
"It's a pity you didn't find the rest of the letter," observed Noel Urner. "No doubt that letter was of great importance. It might be best to hunt up this Captain Grady and learn the truth from him before we push further for the railroad station."
"The trouble is the cap'n air hard to find," said Daddy Wampole. "He ain't on his ranch more 'n a quarter o' his time. Ye know he's as much interested in mines ez he is in cattle."
The mention of mines gave a new turn to Allen's thoughts. Had that communication from Uncle Barnaby contained any reference to the valuable claim over by the Black Rock River?
"If it did, then Captain Grady will rob Uncle Barnaby as sure as fate," thought the young ranchman, with an inward groan.
A moment later a clatter of horse's hoofs on the road outside betokened another arrival. Catching up his gun, Daddy Wampole strode out to see who it was.
"Ike Watson! Wot brings ye here?" Allen heard him cry, and then ran out to greet the old hunter.
"Allen, by all the good fortunes o' the Rockies!" ejaculated Ike Watson. "Jes' the boy I'm pinin' ter see."
"And I'm mighty glad to see you, too, Ike," returned the young ranchman. "I want a bit of advice, and you are just the man to give it to me."
"Advice? I'm ready to give ye bushels o' it, if it will do ye the least bit o' good, lad. But wot are ye doin' here? Why ain't ye hum?"
"I came here on my way to the railroad station, I am bound for San Francisco to hunt up Uncle Barnaby."
"Gee whiz! Now thet's what I call fortunate! If I hadn't a cotched ye, ye would be goin' off on a wild goose chase, with no end to the trail."
"A wild goose chase? O, Ike, have you word from my uncle?"
"No, I ain't got no word from him, but I got word in a way thet two rascals didn't dream on."
"But what do you know?" questioned Allen impatiently.
"Not much, ter tell the truth, an' yet a good deal. It happened this mornin', when I wuz down to Casey's Fork. I wuz ridin' along the old B'ar Trail when along comes a couple o' the worst lookin' bad men ye ever seed. Sez one to tudder, 'If we can make him tell us whar the mine is, we will all become millionaires.' Then sez tudder, 'We'll make him speak. We didn't trap Barnaby Winthrop inter leavin' San Francisco fer nuthin'.' The fellers wuz on the bottom trail, while I wuz up on the rocks. I tried to git to 'em to make 'em tell me wot wuz the meanin' of it all, when they spied me comin' down, an' by the grasshoppers o' Kansas! ye ought ter hev seed 'em put an' scoot. They got out o' sight in a jiffy, an' I couldn't locate 'em, try my best. I hung around an hour, an' then I made up my mind ter ride over an' tell ye wot I hed heard."
Not only Allen, but also Noel Urner and Daddy Wampole were astonished by the revelation Ike Watson made.
"Uncle Barnaby trapped into leaving San Francisco!" gasped Allen. "Did they say where they had taken him?"
"Didn't say nuthin' more'n I told ye," responded the hunter from Gold Fork. "Leas'wise, didn't say nuthin' ez I could hear."
"Who were the men?"
"I don't know, 'ceptin' I seed 'em hangin' around Jordan Creek about six months ago. Like ez not they belong to the old Sol Davids gang. Nearly every one up thet water course belonged to thet gang."
"Would you know them if you saw them again?"
"Sartinly—I'm powerful good at recerlectin' faces onct I see 'em."
"Where do you suppose the men went to?"
"Rode off in the direction o' Black Rock River Canyon."
Allen started. Could it be possible they suspected the claim was up in that neighborhood? It was more than possible.
The young ranchman turned to Noel Urner. "Noel, I'm going to change my plans. I am going after those two men instead of going to San Francisco."
"It would certainly seem a useless trip now," replied the young man from New York, slowly. "There is not the slightest doubt but what your uncle was decoyed away from San Francisco. Where he is now is a mystery which those two men must solve for you—they or——"
"Captain Grady," finished Allen, impulsively. "I feel it in my bones that he is in this plot against Uncle Barnaby."
"It would seem so."
"How do ye make that out?" asked Ike Watson.
In a few words Allen told the old hunter about the missing letter.
"Gee, shoo! He are one o' the gang, sartin!" cried Ike Watson. "The best ye can do is to start in an' round 'em all up."
"Thet's the talk," put in Daddy Wampole. "The state would be a hundred per cent better off with 'em fellers out o' it."
Allen gazed at Ike Watson earnestly.
"Will you help me in this work?" he asked. "You know more about these bad men than I do."
"Will I help ye? Allen ye ought ter know better than ter axt sech a question. O' course I'll help ye. I ain't got much ter do. Them new claims up the Salmon kin wait well enough."
"I would help ye, too, if I could git away," said Daddy Wampole. "Thet gang worried me enough for six years, goodness knows!"
"And what of you?" Allen turned to Noel. "You see how matters stand. I don't want to ask you to go, for we may have some rough times, and——"
"I came out to see rough times," interrupted the young man from the east. "So unless you think I'll be too much of a hindrance, I would like greatly to accompany you wherever you go. You must remember that I, too, am anxious to find your uncle."
"Then, thet's settled," said Ike Watson. He did not much fancy having the company of a "tenderfoot," but Noel's manner pleased him.
A long discussion followed. While it was in progress Mrs. Wampole prepared a hot supper, to which later on Allen and the others did full justice.
It was decided to remain at the crossroads hotel all night, and the three retired early, that they might make a start before sunrise.
It must be confessed that the young ranchman slept but little. His mind was in a whirl over all he had discovered, and he shuddered whenever he thought that his uncle might possibly be in peril of his life.
"Those men would indeed dare all for gold, as those initials on the cross imply," he said to himself. "What a pity they were not exterminated the time old Sol Davids was lynched."
Toward morning Allen dropped off into a troubled slumber, to be awakened with a start by a touch from Ike Watson's hand an hour later.
"Time ter climb below an' feed up, Allen," cried the old hunter. "We hev a long ride afore us, ez ye know."
"That's true!" cried the young ranchman, springing to his feet; and Ike went off to arouse Noel Urner.
The young man from New York felt rather stiff from his ride of the day previous. Yet he did not complain, and did all he could to make the others believe he felt in perfect trim for another day in the saddle.
After a substantial but hasty breakfast the horses were saddled and they were off, Daddy Wampole waving his hand after them and wishing them the best of luck.
"We'll make for Casey's Fork fust o' all," said Ike Watson. "Perhaps I can pick up the trail thar. If I can't we kin push on toward the Salmon an' trust ter luck."
Allen was doubtful if the old hunter could pick up the trail after having once lost it, but in lieu of something better, he agreed to Watson's plan. Noel, of course, was willing to go wherever the others led.
It was high noon when Casey's Fork, a rough lot of rocks in a bend of the Umihalo Creek, was reached. Allen and Noel were glad enough to dismount in the shadow of the rocks while Ike Watson went off on a tour of inspection.
The old hunter was gone so long that Allen at last grew alarmed.
"Something is wrong, or he would be back ere this," he said. "Let us go after him."
But hardly had they mounted when they heard a shout ahead. Looking beyond a belt of bushes they saw Ike Watson waving his hand to them.
"Found it!" he cried as they came up. "They took the creek road over ter the forest trail. The marks are fresh, showin' they didn't move on until dark last night."
"Then they can't be many miles ahead!" cried Allen. "Oh, if we can only keep the trail till we catch up to them!"
"No time ter lose," said Ike Watson, and once more they continued the pursuit, this time faster than before.
Yet at the end of two miles they came to a sudden halt. The trail led down to the bank of a shallow stream and there disappeared from view.