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Frank Merriwell, Junior's, Golden Trail, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 8. Where The Golden Trail Led |
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_ CHAPTER VIII. WHERE THE GOLDEN TRAIL LED Merriwell was not superstitious, and had no patience with any one who was. He was forced to admit, however, that a strange coincidence had developed in the matter of Ballard's dream and the discovery that had just been made. "Pink dreamed of nuggets as big as washtubs," said the marveling Clancy, "and they were arranged like stepping-stones, and stretched from the professor's claim to Gold Hill." By that time, Merry had got himself in hand. He laughed softly. "Yes, Clan," said he, "I remember. These pieces of ore are not nuggets, however, and if the whole golden trail was raked together, I don't believe it would come anywhere near filling even a small-sized washtub. And I'll bet the trail doesn't lead from here to Gold Hill." "In the dream," went on Clancy, "Pink saw a gang of toughs chasing the prof along the row of nuggets." "Which is about as consistent as dreams usually are. If Professor Borrodaile wanted to get away from the toughs, why did he keep on his yellow stepping-stones? Why didn't he duck aside and hide in the bushes? All foolishness, Clan. Let's go and eat." Making their way back to Professor Borrodaile's old lodgings, the boys ate a hurried breakfast. They were thrilled with the novel idea of following the trail of ore, and, perhaps, of overtaking the thief. "The fellow, whoever he is," said Clancy, "may be able to tell us something about the professor." "Everybody we run across out here is liable to be mixed up with the prof's disappearance," answered Merry. Before starting, the two motor cycles were gone over carefully. Only a small amount of attention was needed to put them in trim for the morning's work. At last, with their canteens freshly filled and hung across their shoulders, and the dwindling bag of rations secured to Clancy's machine, they got clear of the old ruins and made their start along the golden trail. The scattered ore led upward and through the gap, then out on the farther side and into the foothills. Nor did the trail, after getting away from the circular valley, point toward Gold Hill. On the contrary, it bent in the opposite direction. "Here's where the facts knock another hole in Ballard's dream," said Frank. "Gold Hill is northwest of us, and the ore takes us southeast." "We haven't any gasoline to waste, Chip," remarked Clancy, "and if we go very far in this direction we're liable to get hung up in the desert with a couple of dead engines." "The reservoirs were still when we left the mine, Clan, and I guess, if were careful, we can make the round trip without having to walk part of the way. If the golden trail promises to lead us too far, we'll hide the machines somewhere and go over some of it on foot:" The man with the burro and the leaky ore bag had naturally hunted for the easiest way through the hills. His devious course bothered the boys a little in keeping track of the pieces of dropped ore. The pieces lay on the ground at irregular intervals. Sometimes there would be two samples within three or four yards of each other, and then perhaps the boys would have to go three or four hundred feet before they found another. At such times the hoofmarks of the burro served as a guide. "That thief is a mighty careless sort of a man," said Clancy. "It's a wonder he didn't notice what was going on, and stop the leak." "Strikes me," answered Merry, "that he walked, and led the burro. If that was the case he wasn't in a position to see that the loot was getting away from him." For at least a mile the golden trail zigzagged through the foothills. Finally it came out on a level stretch of ground, partly covered with a chaparral of greasewood, ironwood, and paloverde. Frank had been noticing for several minutes that the single set of burro tracks had grown into a veritable clutter of hoofprints. A good many of the prints were large enough to suggest that horses had passed over the golden trail. Merry and Clancy were discussing the additional tracks as they wheeled out upon the flat bit of desert. They could make nothing of them, and the anxiety they caused was presently lost in another discovery: They had reached the end of the line of ore! Try as hard as they could, not another piece of wire-gold ore could they find. The thief, it appeared, must have discovered the hole in the bag, at that point, and have repaired it. Still searching, and hoping against hope, the boys presently came close to the edge of the chaparral. Then, with stunning abruptness, a voice shouted from among the bushes. "Now, then, pards, make a surround!" It was a familiar voice. Merry as not so startled that he failed to realize that. The chaparral shook and rustled with the movements of horsemen. In a moment four riders plunged into view and drew rein on each side and in front and rear of Merriwell and Clancy. The surprised lads recognized the fellows at once. They were some of the cowboy athletes from the Bar Z Ranch--Blunt, the Cowboy Wonder, and his particular cronies, Ben Jordan, Bandy Harrison, and Aaron Lloyd. "Whoop!" exulted Blunt, his spirited black horse rearing under his firm grip on the reins. "Look who's here, pard! It's Merriwell, by glory! Chip Merriwell, the son of his dad! Merriwell, the silk-stocking athlete! We're diamonds in the rough, pards, but he's cut and polished until he dazzles the eyes. Well, well! What do you think of this?" Merry was conscious of one thing, and that was that the present meeting in the desert was due to chance alone, and not to any plotting on Blunt's part. "Whoop!" jubilated Blunt's three companions, put to it somewhat to curb their restive mounts. "Hold still, Frank, you crazy fool!" cried the Wonder, slapping his horse about the ears with his hat. "He's scared of those chug-chug bikes, same as the rest of the bronks. Whoa, I tell you!" Blunt was a master horseman, and soon had his plunging steed steadied down. Clancy looked up into the face of the Cowboy Wonder and scowled. "You're the limit," he grunted. "I guess Chip will believe you've got a yellow streak, after this." A smile, mirthless and ugly, crossed Blunt's bronzed face. Leaning forward along his horse's neck, he fixed his sloe-black eyes on Clancy's. "Yeller streak, eh?" he echoed. "What is there, in this, to make Merriwell think I've got a thing like that?" "Of course," flashed Clancy, "you touched up the professor's claim for the trail of ore we've been following front Happenchance." "That's a lie," snapped Blunt. "We're cow-punchers, and homemade athletes, but we're not sneak thieves. We were on our way to a ranch beyond the Picket Posts after, a bunch of Bar Z strays. We watered, late yesterday afternoon, at the spring by old Happenchance, and we reached the range we were bound for at ten o'clock last night: Couldn't find the cattle we were looking for, and we started back an hour before dawn this morning. We struck that trail of ore half a mile from here, and turned back to run it out. Right in this place she petered out. While we were thinking about continuing on to McGurvin's, we heard you two popping this way, and took to the brush in order to give you a little surprise. That's the truth of it, and you can believe it or not?" "I believe it, Blunt," Merry answered, with a restraining glance in his chum's direction. "Now that we have met you, possibly you can give us a little information. We're looking for the professor. He suddenly dropped out of sight, and we're anxious to locate him and get him back to Ophir." "Wow!" exclaimed Ben Jordan. "Do we all know anything about this perfesser? Well, I reckon. Why, he's--" "Cork!" shouted Blunt sharply. "You chaps keep still about the professor. I'll do the talking on that point." He turned in his saddle to face Merriwell, "We can tell you a whole lot about this professor of yours," he went on, "but I've an ax to grind, Merriwell, and the information is going to cost you something." "I thought that was your stripe," sneered Clancy. "Oh, you did? Say, if I wasn't so teetotally wrapped up in Merriwell, I'd give a little attention to you, my buck." "What is the information going to cost?" asked Frank. "It's going to cost you a fight--with me. Sabe? If you can put me down for the count, Merriwell, we'll not only tell, you what we know about Borrodaile, but we'll turn in, every man jack of us, and help you get hands on him." That was Barzy Blunt to a hair. He never allowed a chance for a contest with young Frank Merriwell to get past him. "Give him his wish, Chip--or let me," growled Clancy. "He ought to have a little sense pounded into that head of his, and here's an opening." "If you're hankerin' fer a go, Redhead," called Ben Jordan, "mebby I could oblige." "No," put in Frank. "This little matter is between Blunt and me. We've got the center of the stage, and were going to keep it. The rest of you can look on." He turned to the Cowboy Wonder. "Sparring is all right, Blunt," he continued, "but, if it is all the same to you, why not settle, the matter catch as catch can? I have already taken one fall out, of you, but you have always claimed you could have turned the tables on me if the bout hadn't been interrupted." "I'm agreeable!" answered Blunt cheerily. "Best two out of three," he added, slipping out of his saddle and handing his reins to Randy Harrison. "Hitch, pards, and gather 'round. A diamond in the rough is going up against this polished article from the East. Watch me juggle with him." He threw up his head and roared in a kind of chant: "I'm Barzy Blunt, of the Bar Z Ranch, known to fame as the Cowboy Wonder! Whoop!" "Whoop!" howled Blunt's three companions, leading the horses back toward the chaparral. Frank had already begun to strip to the gymnasium clothes which he wore beneath his ordinary apparel as under garments. His sleeveless shirt he took off as well, thus matching the Wonder who was also stripping to the buff. Merry knew that the cowboys would play fair, as they understood the word. They showed their sportsmanlike spirit by agreeing that Clancy should act as referee. "If you're ready," said Clancy, "get busy!" Warily the two wrestlers faced each other. Again, as in the relay Marathon, Merry was contesting with Blunt for the benefit of Borrodaile. And Merry, although the Wonder was a quick and powerful antagonist, was determined to win, and to do it handily. _ |
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