"They might think we were friends of Blower sent to spy on them," said
Phil. "They must know we have heard some of their talk."

"If Abe Blower is so well known in Butte it ought to be an easy matter
to find him," returned Dave. "We can look for him in the directory and
the telephone book, and ask for him at the hotels and mining offices."

"And remember, I have one of his old addresses," said Roger. "Maybe the
folks at that place know where he has gone."

It was dark when they rolled into the railroad station at Butte, a
typical western mining city, with a population of about thirty-five
thousand souls.

"No use in trying to do anything to-night," said Roger, who was tired
and knew his chums must be the same. "We'll go to some first-class hotel
and start on our hunt for Blower in the morning."

"Yes, I'm dead tired," answered Phil, who had been yawning for the last
hour.

The boys had the address of a good hotel, and were soon on the way to
the place. They saw the man called Sol Blugg start off down a side
street with his companions.

"I wish we would run into Link Merwell and Job Haskers," remarked Dave,
as they hurried towards the hotel.

"What good would that do?" demanded the senator's son.

"Then I'd know they hadn't left Butte to look for that lost mine."

"Humph! you don't suppose they are going to find it all in a minute, do
you, Dave?" asked Phil.

"No, but an idea just struck me."

"What?" asked both of the others.

"Supposing Merwell and Haskers should hunt up Blower and see what he had
to say about the lost mine."

"Phew!" cried Roger. "Do you think they'd dare?"

"They might. They have done some pretty bold things lately. Link is real
reckless."

Roger came to a halt on the pavement.

"Maybe we had better hunt for Abe Blower right away," he declared.

"Oh, come on, and get to bed," yawned Phil. "Where are you going to look
for him this time of night?"

"I don't know, exactly. But we could make some inquiries."

"Let us go to the hotel first," said Dave. "Then, after we have secured
rooms, we can hunt around, if we want to."

A little later they found themselves at the hotel, where they secured
two rooms with a bath. At the desk they asked the clerk if he knew an
old miner and prospector named Abe Blower.

"Seems to me I've heard the name," replied the clerk. "But I can't just
place it. You might ask Tom Dillon, over yonder. He knows all the
old-timers in Butte," and the clerk pointed to a man who sat in a corner
of the hotel lobby, reading a newspaper.

Tom Dillon, round-faced and white-haired, put down his paper and smiled
as the boys came up and addressed him. He was an old-time miner, who had
"struck it rich," and who had known how to take care of his wealth.

"Sure, I know most of the old-timers!" he exclaimed, genially, in reply
to Roger's question. "Who are you looking for?"

"Let me introduce myself first," said Roger. He gave his name and also
those of his chums. "I am the nephew of the late Maurice Harrison, of
this place."

"You don't tell me! Maurice's nevvy, eh? Then you must be the son o'
Senator Morr, o' the East?"

"Yes."

"Glad to know ye! Put her there, young man!" And Tom Dillon shook hands
cordially all around. "Yes, I knowed your uncle well--we did a bit of
prospectin' together onct. It broke me all up to hear how he died--so
many o' the old-timers droppin' off."

"It was a great shock to our family," replied Roger. "Perhaps you know
what brought me to Butte," he continued, looking at the old miner,
questioningly.

"To settle up the estate, I reckon."

"In a way, yes. I suppose you have heard about that lost mine?"

"What, the Landslide? Sure. An' she's gone fer good, lad; don't bank on
ever findin' it ag'in, for if you do, well, I think ye'll be
disapp'inted." And Tom Dillon shook his head slowly.

"You really think it can't be found?" asked Dave.

"I ain't sayin' that. But chances are all ag'in it. Whar that mine was
located, the big landslide changed the hull face o' nature, an' all
kinds o' landmarks have been teetotally lost."

"Well, I am going to do what I can," put in Roger. "And my two chums are
going to help me. But I was going to ask you a question. The clerk
suggested that we ask you. Do you know an old miner named Abe Blower?"

"Sure."

"Can you tell me where he is now?"

"He lives with an old lady named Carmody, on the other side o' town. She
is some kind o' a relative of his, and came on from the South to keep
house fer him. But he ain't home much. He spends most of his time
prospectin'. Seems like he can't give it up."

"I wish you'd give me his address," said the senator's son, and, having
received it, put it down in a note-book.

As late as it was, it was decided to walk across town to where Abe
Blower resided, and the three boys set out without delay.

"I'd get a cab, if any was around," said Roger, who saw how tired Phil
was.

"Maybe, Phil, you had better go to bed and let Roger and me go to
Blower's home," suggested Dave.

"No, if you go, I'll go too," declared the shipowner's son, who never
cared to be left behind when anything was going on.

The place where Abe Blower resided was down at the end of a side street,
which, at this hour of the night, was dark and deserted. They had some
little difficulty in finding the right number. The house stood back from
the street, and not a single light shone within it.

"Everybody gone to bed," announced Dave. "It seems like a shame to wake
them up."

"I'll wait till morning," announced the senator's son. "Now we know just
where the place is, we can come here directly after breakfast." And so
it was settled.

At the hotel Phil found himself so tired that he pitched into bed with
scant ceremony. After the long trip on the train, Dave felt that he
needed a bath and took it, followed by Roger. Then all went sound
asleep, not to awaken until daylight. Then Phil took a good "soak," as
he called a bath, and all dressed for an early breakfast. In the
dining-room they met Mr. Dillon.

"Find Abe last night?" asked the old miner, with a smile.

"We located the house and are going over there right after we eat,"
answered the senator's son. "And by the way, Mr. Dillon," he continued.
"Do you know any men named Blugg, Jaley, and Staver?"

"Do I!" cried Tom Dillon. "Sure I do, an' so do lots of other folks in
these diggin's. What do you know about 'em?"

"We met them on the train."

"Don't ye have nothin' to do with that crowd, lads. They ain't the sort
you want to train with, nohow."

"We are not going to train with them," said Dave.

"We thought they were pretty hard customers," added Phil.

"They mentioned Abe Blower and one of them said he thought Blower had
queered some sort of a land deal they were trying to put through,"
continued Roger.

"Is that so! Well, if Abe did that I give him credit for it, I sure do.
Those fellers are swindlers, pure an' simple. But they generally work in
sech a way that the law can't tech 'em. I ain't got no use for 'em--and
I reckon Abe ain't neither," went on the old miner, vigorously. And
then he sat down to breakfast with the boys, telling them much about
Butte, and the mining country around it, and about what dealings he had
had with Roger's uncle.

"A square man he was," he said. "And a great pity the way he dropped off
and had his mine lost by a landslide."

The meal over, the three boys lost no time in walking over to the other
side of the city, where Abe Blower lived. They found the front windows
of the house open and an elderly woman was sweeping off the front stoop
with a broom.

"Good-morning," said Roger, politely. "Is this Mrs. Carmody?"

"Yes, I'm Mrs. Carmody," was the reply, and the old lady looked
questioningly into Roger's face. "I don't seem to remember you," she
went on.

"We never met before, Mrs. Carmody," answered Roger, and introduced
himself and his chums. "I came to see Mr. Abe Blower."

The woman looked quite bewildered, so much so that the boys were
astonished. She dropped her broom.

"Did you say you was Roger Morr?" she gasped, looking at the senator's
son.

"Yes."

"Then what brought you here--lookin' fer Abe?"

It was now Roger's turn to be surprised.

"Why do you ask that?" he questioned. "I came because I want to have a
talk with him, and maybe get him to help me look for a lost mine."

"Well, I never!" gasped Mrs. Carmody, and looked more bewildered than
ever.

"Isn't Mr. Blower here?" asked Dave. A sudden idea had sprung into his
mind.

"Of course he isn't here. I--I--don't understand this at all--really, I
don't."

"Don't understand what?" asked Roger.

"Your bein' here, after the letter Abe sent yesterday afternoon. Didn't
you say your name was Roger Morr?"

"Yes."

"Then you went off with Abe, didn't you?"

"Me?" cried Roger. "Why, I have never seen him as yet."

"Never seen him!" gasped Mrs. Carmody. "Well, I never! Of all the queer
things! What can it mean?" And she walked to a chair on the stoop and
sank down heavily.




CHAPTER XV

AT ABE BLOWER'S HOME


The boys saw at once that something was wrong. Mrs. Carmody was
completely bewildered, and being old, had no easy time of it to collect
her wits.

"Do you feel faint?" asked Dave, kindly. "Can I get you a glass of
water?"

"No, I'll be all right in a minute. But this beats all, it sure does!"
replied the old lady. "Abe wrote that he was going off with a Roger Morr
to look for a lost mine, and here you are lookin' for Abe. It sure is a
puzzle."

"He wrote that he was going off with me?" ejaculated the senator's son.

"He said Roger Morr. If that's your handle----"

"It certainly is."

"This must be Link Merwell's work!" cried Dave. "Perhaps he met
Blower----"

"And impersonated Roger," finished Phil.

"Would he do that?" questioned the senator's son. "Would he dare?"

"He would, if he thought he could get away with the trick," replied
Dave. He turned to Mrs. Carmody. "Would you mind letting us see the
letter Mr. Blower sent you?"

"Sure. I'll get it. I left it on the table," was the answer, and,
getting up, the old lady went into the house. "Come in," she invited. In
her younger days she had been used to the rough life of a pioneer and
she did not stand on ceremony.

The boys went in, and presently Mrs. Carmody brought forth a letter
written in lead pencil on a half-sheet of note paper. It ran as follows:

     "DEAR KATE:

     "You remember I tole you about Maurice Harrisons sister, who was
     married to a seanatour of the government. Well, his son, Roger Morr
     has come on to look for that lost mine--wants for me to go on a
     hunt with him to onse--so as it is good money I am going--start to
     nite in a hour--you git Nell Davis to stay with you her an Ben I
     wont be gone morn a weak or to. ABE."

"That's the letter Abe sent me yesterday," announced Mrs. Carmody. "You
see he says Roger Morr, the son of the senator. If that's you, what does
it mean?" and she looked at Roger.

"I'll tell you what it means," answered Dave. "It means that somebody
else has pretended he is Roger here--an enemy who wants to locate the
lost mine first, if he can."

"O dear! Did you ever hear the like! Who was it, do you suppose?"

"We've got a pretty good idea," said Roger. "Nobody you know. But tell
me, where did this letter come from?"

"You mean who brought it?"

"Yes."

"Billy Lane."

"Who is he?"

"Oh, a feller around town, who does all sort o' odd jobs."

"Then you don't know where Mr. Blower was when he sent it?"

"No, I don't. But I guess he wasn't very near, otherwise he would have
come here hisself, instead o' writin'--for writin' comes hard to Abe--he
never had no chanct for much education. And he would want some o' his
clothes."

The boys read the letter a second time. All were convinced that Link
Merwell had gotten ahead of them and had perpetrated the fraud by
impersonating Roger.

"It was certainly a bold stroke," was Phil's comment.

"Yes, and a clever one too, in a way," replied Dave. "From our talk in
the summer-house Link must have learned that Blower and the late Mr.
Harrison were warm friends, and, that being so, Blower would be willing
to do almost anything for Mr. Harrison's nephew. And Link rushed Blower
away in a hurry, so that we wouldn't get at him."

"I wonder if Haskers is with him?" mused Roger.

"I shouldn't wonder. If the mine is found, Link can't claim it, for he
would be arrested on sight. But he could let Haskers claim it, and then
turn it over to somebody else and thus mix it up, so that you would be
out of it," answered Dave.

"What do you think I had best do next?" asked the senator's son. The
unexpected turn of affairs had bewildered him almost as much as it had
bewildered Mrs. Carmody.

"I don't see what you can do, Roger, excepting to start on a hunt for
the Landslide Mine without Blower."

"Yes, let us do that!" cried Phil. "Who knows but that we'll run across
Blower and Merwell? And if we do, we can easily prove that Link is a
fraud."

"Well, we'll have to get some sort of a guide," answered Roger. "It
would be utterly useless for us to start out alone in such a country as
this."

"We might ask Mr. Dillon to recommend somebody," said Dave. "He
appeared to be a reliable man."

The boys talked to Mrs. Carmody for a few minutes longer. They were on
the point of leaving the house when there came a loud rap on the front
door.

"Perhaps Blower has come back!" cried Phil.

"I don't think he'd knock," answered Dave.

"No, it isn't Abe," said Mrs. Carmody. "I'll go and see who it is."

She went to the door and opened it,--to find herself confronted by a
tall, leathery-looking individual whose breath smelt strongly of liquor.

"Is Abe Blower home?" demanded the man, in a thick voice.

"No, he isn't," replied Mrs. Carmody, stiffly. She did not like the
appearance of the visitor.

"When will he be home?" went on the man, and tried to force his way into
the house.

"I don't know. You can't come in here, Sol Blugg!" And Mrs. Carmody
tried to shut the door in the man's face.

"I am a-comin' in," stormed the newcomer. "I'm a-comin' in to wait fer
Abe Blower, an' when I meet him--well, we'll have an account to settle,"
and the man lurched heavily against the door-frame.

"It's one of the fellows we met on the train!" whispered Phil. "The
fellow called Sol Blugg!"

"Yes, and that other man, Larry Jaley, is waiting on the sidewalk for
him," announced Dave, after a glance through a window. "And neither of
them seem to be very sober."

"You get right out of here, Sol Blugg!" cried Mrs. Carmody, with sudden
energy. "Abe ain't home, an' I won't have you hangin' around. You get
right out!" And she caught up her broom, which chanced to be behind the
door.

"Drop the broom, old woman!" snarled Sol Blugg, and it was plain to see
that he was befuddled by liquor. "I'm a-comin' in, and you sha'n't stop
me!"

He made a sudden grab and caught Mrs. Carmody by the arm. But as he did
this, Dave leaped into the little hallway and shoved him back.

"Let go of this lady!" he said, sternly. "Let go, or I'll knock you
down!"

Surprised and bewildered, Sol Blugg dropped his hold on Mrs. Carmody's
arm and glared uncertainly at our hero.

"Who--who are you?" he faltered.

"Never mind who I am," replied Dave. "You let this lady alone and go
about your business."

"I wanter see Abe Blower."

"He has gone away."

"Say, where have I seen you?" demanded the leathery-looking man,
suddenly. "Oh, I remember now, on the train, comin' from the land sale.
Say, was you there?"

"No."

"I know better! I saw you on the train--you an' them other fellers,
too!" And Sol Blugg pointed unsteadily at Phil and Roger. "I know how it
is," he went on, ramblingly. "You went there in place o' Abe--queered
the hull thing fer us, you did! I know! You're in with Abe, an' Abe's in
with you! Thought you'd do us out o' our little game, eh? Say, Larry!"
he called to the man on the sidewalk. "Look at these three fellers--same
ones was on the train last night. They are in with Abe--and they queered
us--put a crimp in the hull game. Now they say Abe ain't here. Wot are
we going to do, tell me that now, what are we goin' to do?"

"Them fellers!" exclaimed Larry Jaley, catching sight of the boys. "I
remember 'em. Say, maybe they heard us talkin'!"

"Sure--they must have," mumbled Sol Blugg.

"Do you know these men?" asked Mrs. Carmody.

"We saw them on the train last night, that is all," answered Roger.
"They said something about Mr. Blower queering a land deal for them."

"Yes, he told me about that, too. They were going to swindle some folks,
and Abe heard about it and gave the thing away. Abe won't stand for
anything that ain't strictly honest."

"Say, I want you to know----" commenced Sol Blugg, and tried to catch
hold of Mrs. Carmody again. But this time Dave was too quick for him. He
pushed the man back, turned him around, and sent him flying down the
steps to the street.

"Now, you go on!" he cried. "If you don't, you'll get into trouble!"

"That's what!" said Roger.

"Perhaps you'd like to be arrested," added Phil.

"Come on!" said Larry Jaley, in a low voice. "Come on, Sol. I told you
it wouldn't do any good to come here."

"I didn't expect to see them young fellers," growled the
leathery-looking man. "But I'm a-goin' to git square with Abe Blower,
jest wait an' see," he added, thickly; and then he and his companion
started up the street and around the first corner.

"The beasts!" murmured Mrs. Carmody, as she gazed after them. "I do wish
I had used the broom over Sol Blugg's head! Maybe it would have done him
good!"

"You know these men, then?" asked Dave.

"Oh, yes, and Abe knows 'em, too! It seems that, years ago, before I
came here, Abe used to train with those men, in the mining camps. But
they were a hard crowd, used to drinkin' and gamblin', and Abe gave 'em
up and went with men like Mr. Harrison, and Tom Dillon. That made Sol
Blugg and his crowd sore, and they often tried to do Abe harm. Now that
Abe queered that land swindle for 'em I suppose they are more sore than
ever. But I don't think they would have come here, only they have been
drinkin'."

"You had better keep on the lookout--they may come back," said Dave.

"I'll keep on guard, don't fear. I've got one of Abe's pistols in the
house, and a club, too. And I'll get that neighbor Abe spoke about to
stay with me," returned Mrs. Carmody. "But, say," she added, suddenly.
"You better keep on guard, too. 'Tain't no nice thing to run up against
that bunch, I can tell you that!"

"Yes, we'll have to be on the watch from the very moment we leave this
house," said Roger.

The boys talked for a few minutes longer with the old lady, getting what
information they could, and then hurried back to their hotel. On the way
they kept a sharp lookout for the leathery-looking man and his cronies,
but they did not show themselves.

It was an easy matter for them to find old Mr. Dillon, who was reading a
mining journal in the smoking-room. He listened with much interest to
what they had to tell. As they felt they could trust such a man, they
withheld nothing from him.

"It certainly is some game--this trying to locate that lost Landslide
Mine," said the old miner. "I've been thinkin' it over again since you
told me about it, and it interests me mightily. So you want somebody to
go with you, and help you find the right trail, and find Abe Blower?
Well, if you don't think I'm too old, I'll go myself!" And he smiled
broadly at the boys.




CHAPTER XVI

ON TO BLACK CAT CAMP


"You go!" cried Dave.

"I thought you had given up prospecting," exclaimed Roger.

"Not but that we'd be glad to have you along," put in Phil, hastily.

"Well, I have given up prospecting," answered Mr. Dillon, with that
broad smile still on his face. "But I like to go out once in a while,
just for the sake of old times. Besides that, I was interested in the
Landslide Mine myself in a way."

"How so?" asked the senator's son.

"Well, when Maurice Harrison staked the claim I came along and staked a
claim a bit further up the trail. It wasn't near so good a prospect as
was the Landslide, but it was pretty fair, and I was sorry to see that
landslide come along an' knock us all out. So, if we find the lost
Landslide Mine maybe we'll locate my mine, too."

"Come by all means, and welcome, Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger. "If you had
that mine you speak about you must know as much about that district as
Abe Blower--maybe more."

"I think I know as much, but not any more, lads. Abe is a good
prospector, and he knows Montana from end to end, an' Idaho, too, as
well as other gold fields. He has made money, too, but he allers spent
the cash lookin' fer bigger things, while I salted a good bit o' mine
away!" And Tom Dillon chuckled broadly.

The matter was talked over for the best part of an hour, and it was
decided to begin the hunt for the Landslide Mine on the following
morning.

"There ain't no ust bein' in too much o' a hurry," said Mr. Dillon.
"That mine ain't goin' to walk away, and Abe Blower an' those with him
ain't goin' to find it right plumb to onct, believe me! I guess the only
reason those others hurried so was because they feared you would come
along and queer their game with Abe."

"I think that myself," said Roger.

"Abe had a prospectin' outfit all ready--he allers has--up to Black Cat
Camp. That's the startin'-point for the Rodman trail, on which the
Landslide Mine an' my mine was located. Now we haven't any outfit, so
we'll have to git one right here in Butte."

"We'll get whatever you say," answered Roger. "Of course, I don't want
to make this too expensive," he added, thinking of something his father
had told him--that just at present finances in the Morr family were not
at their best.

"We can hire hosses--I know where to git just the right animals," said
Tom Dillon. "And we won't pay no fortune for 'em either. And then you'll
want some different clothes," and he looked critically at the
well-dressed youths.

"Oh, we know that--we have roughed it before," returned Dave. And he
mentioned their trip to Star Ranch, to Cave Island, and to the South Sea
Islands, Norway, and other out-of-the-way places.

"Well, you sure have traveled some!" exclaimed Tom Dillon. "You'll do
for this trip. I'm glad you know how to rough it. I onct had a bunch of
tenderfeet along--young fellers from the East, who had never roughed it
before--and, believe me, what those chaps didn't know would fill a
boomer's wagon twict over. Why, they couldn't wash less'n they had a
basin to do it in an' a towel to dry on, an' it mixed 'em all up to try
to sleep on the ground rolled in a blanket. An' when it come to grub,
well, they was a-lookin' for napkins an' bread-an'-butter plates, an'
finger bowls, an' I don't know what all! It jest made me plumb tired, it
sure did!" And the old miner sighed deeply.

"We won't give you any trouble that way," said Dave, with a grin.
"Regular camp food is good enough for us, and I can sleep almost
anywhere if I am tired enough."

"And you can't beat Dave riding," broke in Roger. "When he was at Star
Ranch he busted the wildest bronco you ever saw."

"Is that so! Well, I don't like no wild broncos. I like a good, steady
hoss, one as can climb the mountain trails and is sure-footed on the
edge o' a cliff. That's the kind we'll git," concluded Tom Dillon.

The remainder of the day proved a busy one. The boys went out with the
old miner to secure the horses and such an outfit as he deemed
necessary. Then they spent part of the evening in writing letters to the
folks in Yellowstone Park and at home. Only one letter came in for
them--one from Senator Morr to his son--and this made Roger look very
sober.

"No bad news, I hope," said Dave, kindly.

"It's about dad's private affairs," was the reply. "Things have taken
something of a turn for the worse financially." Roger gave a sigh. "Oh,
I do hope we can locate that lost mine!"

"We all hope that!" said Dave.

"Indeed, we do!" cried Phil. "We've just got to do it," he added,
enthusiastically.

Now that he had made up his mind to undertake the expedition, old Tom
Dillon brightened up wonderfully, and to the boys he appeared ten years
younger than when they had first met him. He was a fatherly kind of a
man, and the more they saw of him the better they liked him. He
selected the outfit with care, securing five good horses--one for each
of them and an extra animal for the camp stuff, and other things they
were to take along.

In a place like Butte, where Tom Dillon was so well known, it soon
became noised around that he was going on a prospecting tour. Some asked
him where he was going, but he merely replied that he was going along
with his young friends to show them the mining districts.

"It won't do to let 'em know we are going to look for a mine," he
explained, in private. "If we did that, we'd have a crowd at our heels
in no time."

The news concerning the expedition reached the ears of Sol Blugg and his
cronies, and this, coupled with the sudden departure of Abe Blower, set
that crowd to wondering what was up.

"Maybe it's another gold strike," suggested Larry Jaley.

"It might be," said the fellow called Staver.

"If I thought it was a gold strike I'd follow 'em," announced Sol Blugg.
"Tom Dillon allers was a good one at strikes, an' so was Abe Blower.
They know enough to keep away from anything thet looks like a wildcat.
I'm a-goin' to look into this," he concluded. And after that the Blugg
crowd kept close watch on Dave and his friends.

The departure was made from Butte about noon of the next day. It was
clear and warm, with a gentle breeze blowing from the west.

"We might have taken a train for the first forty miles," remarked Tom
Dillon. "But it wouldn't have helped us a great deal, for we'd have to
side-track for ten miles. We'll go the old way--the way we went afore
there was any railroads."

"There must be a lot of mines in Montana," remarked Phil, as they rode
out of Butte.

"Somebody told me there had been over fifteen thousand minin' claims
staked and recorded," answered the old miner. "O' course, lots of 'em
ain't never been developed. But a good many of 'em have."

"They must produce a lot of gold," said Dave.

"Yes, lad, the output runs up into the millions every year. Oh, a good
mine is a bonanza!" added Tom Dillon, emphatically.

"Then I trust we locate the Landslide Mine, and that it proves a
bonanza," returned Roger, eagerly.

On the way they passed mine after mine, and the boys were much
interested in watching the process of getting out ore, and also in the
work of the huge quartz-crushers. Whenever they passed a mine there
would be sure to be somebody to wave a friendly hand to Tom Dillon.

"He certainly is well known," whispered Roger to Dave.

"Yes, and we were mighty lucky to fall in with him--after missing that
Abe Blower," was the reply.

It was not until about five o'clock in the afternoon that they reached a
small settlement known as Robby's. Here they rested and had supper. They
inquired about Abe Blower and his party, but could find out nothing
concerning them.

"They must have gone around by Tilton," said Tom Dillon. "That's just as
good a trail and about as short. We'll hear from them at Black Cat
Camp."

It had been decided to push on to Black Cat Camp after supper, the old
miner stating they ought to make the distance in three hours. Soon they
were on the way again, just as the sun was sinking behind the great
mountains in the west.

"I hope Abe Blower stopped for the day at Black Cat Camp," said Roger to
his chums. "I'd like to meet him and confront Link Merwell--and Job
Haskers, too, if he is with them."

"So would I," added Dave and Phil, in a breath.

It was more agreeable riding, now that the heat of the day was over. At
noon it had been very hot, but none of the boys had complained, although
they had perspired freely.

As it became darker they could see the twinkling lights of many a mining
town and camp shining out in the mountains and the valleys below.

"It didn't used to be so, when first I came to Montana," remarked Tom
Dillon. "In them days you could ride out here all night an' not see a
light. But the State has settled putty fast in the last twenty-five
years. They are buildin' railroads everywhere, an' towns spring up over
night, like toadstools."

"Are there any wild animals out here?" questioned Phil.

"Heaps of 'em, further away from the cities. Bears, an' mountain lions,
an' wildcats, an' wolves. An' then we have plenty o' mule an' other
deer, an' elk, as well as Rocky Mountain goats, an' mountain sheep."

"Perhaps we'll get a chance to do some hunting!" exclaimed Phil.

"Not much, this time o' year, lad. But you might hunt a bear--if he
cornered you!" And Tom Dillon laughed at his little joke.

"Did a bear ever corner you?" asked Dave.

"Onct, just onct, and it was the wust experience I ever had with a wild
beast," replied the old miner. "I was out prospectin' when I got on a
narrow ledge o' rock. All to onct I discovered a grizzly on the tudder
end o' the ledge. We was both sitooated, as the sayin' is, so I
couldn't pass the bear an' he couldn't pass me. I had fired my gun an'
missed him. When I tried to pass by he riz up an' growled an' when he
tried to pass me I swung my gun a-tryin' to knock off his head. An' so
we had it fer about an hour, nip an' tuck, an' nobuddy doin' nuthin."

"But you escaped," said Roger. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't do it--your uncle, Maurice Harrison, done it. It was a favor I
owed him that I never got paid back," responded Tom Dillon, feelingly.
"The bear got mad and all to onct sprung at me. I swung the gun an' he
knocked it outer my hand. Then I heerd a report from another ledge above
us, and over rolled Mr. Bear, shot through the heart. An' Maurice
Harrison done it."

"Good for Uncle Maurice!" cried Roger.

"That shot came just in time," went on the old miner. "If it
hadn't--well, I wouldn't be here, lookin' for the Landslide Mine,"
concluded Tom Dillon.

"I don't know that I want a bear to corner me," said Phil, with a
shiver.

"No, we'll leave the bears alone, if they'll leave us alone," returned
Dave.

It was a little before nine o'clock when they came in sight of Black Cat
Camp, a typical mining community, perched on the side of one of the
foothills leading to the mountains. There was one main street,
stretched out for the best part of a quarter of a mile. All the
buildings were of wood and none of them over two stories in height.

"We'll go to Dick Logan's place," said Mr. Dillon. "That is where Abe
Blower used to keep his outfit."

The boys found Logan's place to consist of a general store, with a sort
of boarding-house and stables attached. Dick Logan was behind the
counter of the store, in his shirtsleeves. He greeted the old miner with
a smile, and shook hands cordially.

"Is Abe Blower around?" demanded Tom Dillon, without preliminaries of
any kind.

"He was around, Tom, yesterday," was Dick Logan's answer. "But he left
here about the middle of the afternoon."




CHAPTER XVII

ALONG THE MOUNTAIN TRAIL


The boys had expected some such answer as this, so they were not greatly
surprised. They were introduced to the storekeeper by Tom Dillon, who
then asked if Abe Blower had been alone.

"No, he had two others with him--strangers to me," answered Dick Logan.

"Was one of the strangers an elderly man and the other a young fellow
like ourselves?" asked Roger.

"Yes, a tall, thin man. The young feller called him Haskers, I think."

"What name did the young man go by?" asked Dave.

"Morse, I think--or something like that."

"Morr?" put in Phil.

"Yes, I reckon that was it. Then you know 'em?" questioned the
storekeeper, with interest.

"Yes, we know them, and we'd like to meet them," answered Roger, dryly.

"Well, I dunno where they went--Abe didn't say an' it wasn't my
business to question 'em," returned Dick Logan. "Looked to me like the
elderly gent was some kind o' a school sharp."

"He used to be," answered Dave. "And we all were under him."

"Oh, I see. Well, I dunno where they went, 'ceptin' they struck out
along the Billy Rodman trail," said the storekeeper.

"Abe took his regular outfit, I reckon," remarked Tom Dillon.

"Sure--he never goes up in the mountains without it, Tom; you know
that."

"And the three were alone?"

"I didn't see nobody else."

"Can you put us up for the night, Dick?"

"I can if the young fellers will sleep in one room. I got a little room
fer you an' a big one I can put three cots in."

"That will do for us," answered Roger. "We have been out in such places
as this before," he added, with a faint smile.

"We ain't got no bathrooms, nor electric elevators," returned Dick
Logan, with a chuckle. "But we kin give you clean beds an' blankets, and
good grub."

"You don't have to tell me that, Dick," put in Tom Dillon. He turned to
the others. "It's all right, boys; just make yourselves at home. We'll
get a good night's rest here, and follow Abe and the others fust thing
in the mornin'."

The room the boys occupied was on the second story, at the corner of the
building. Under the side window was a driveway leading back to the
stables attached to the establishment. The apartment had two cots
already in it and a third was speedily forthcoming, being put in place
by a negro man-of-all-work.

"Well, that long ride to-day certainly made me tired," remarked Phil, as
he started to undress. "I could sleep standing up, as the saying goes."

"I'm tired myself," answered Roger.

"Wonder how the folks are making out in the Park," came from Dave. "I
hope they have better accommodations than this," and he glanced around
at the bare walls and bare floor.

"Oh, Yellowstone Park has some fine hotels," declared Roger. "I read all
about them in one of the tourists' guides. They have just erected a new
one that they say is a dandy."

"Never mind those hotels now!" cried Dave, as he slipped off one shoe
after another. "It's get to bed now and an early start in the morning to
see if we can't catch Blower, Haskers, and--Morr!" and he grinned.

"The cheek of Link Merwell using my name!" murmured the senator's son.
"I'll--I'll knock him down for that, if I get the chance!" And his eyes
blazed for the moment.

Soon the boys were abed and it did not take them long to drop into
profound slumber. In the next room was Tom Dillon, also sleeping
peacefully.

Dave was the first to awaken and he slid off of his cot to look out of
the window, to see what kind of weather it was. The window had been left
wide open, to let in the fresh air, and as our hero stuck out his head
and glanced down in the alleyway leading to the stables, he uttered an
exclamation of surprise.

"What is it?" questioned Roger, rousing up, followed by Phil.

"Those men!" murmured Dave. "Look, fellows!"

The others came to his side and looked out of the window. Just emerging
from the alleyway were three men on horseback, all equipped for camping
out. The three men were Blugg, Jaley, and Staver.

"Well, I declare! What are those fellows doing here?" cried the
senator's son.

"Can they be following us?" questioned Phil.

"I don't know. They came from the stables," answered our hero. "Most
likely they had their horses there over night. We can find out when we
go down."

"Where are they going?" asked the shipowner's son.

All watched for a minute or two and saw the Blugg crowd pass down the
main street of the camp and around a warehouse corner. Then they were
lost to view.

Tom Dillon had heard the boys rising and was now up himself and getting
dressed. He listened with interest to what they had to relate.

"It's queer that crowd should be here, after what happened in Butte," he
said. "I'll ask Dick Logan about 'em, when we go to breakfast."

When questioned, the proprietor of the place stated that Blugg and the
others had come in late, after the Morr party were abed. As the place
was full they had accepted a room in the building across the street, but
had put up their horses in the Logan stable. They had paid in advance,
stating they were going to leave at daybreak.

"Let us ask the stable man about this," suggested Dave, in a whisper, to
his chums, and as soon as breakfast was over, they went out and hunted
up that individual.

"Nobody teched your outfit, I dun see to that," said the colored man. "I
slept right by your hosses an' things."

"Did you talk to those men who came in late last night?" asked Dave.

"They did most of the talkin', boss. They wanted to know all about your
party--whar you was a-gwine, an' all that. But I didn't give 'em no
satisfaction, I didn't. Boss Dillon tole me las' night to keep my
trap-doah closed, an' when Boss Dillon sez a thing I dun know he means
it,--so I didn't tell 'em nuffin'."

"Good for Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger. "They didn't say what brought them
here?"

"No, sah. When they see I didn't have nuffin' to tell they jest closed
up, too," and the negro grinned, broadly. He had been liberally tipped
by Tom Dillon and, besides, he considered it an honor to serve such a
well-known personage and one who had "made his pile," as it is often
expressed in that part of our country.

The lads and the old miner were soon ready for the trail, and, bidding
Dick Logan farewell, they set off through the main street of Black Cat
Camp in the direction of the Rodman trail, called by a few old-timers
Smoky Hill trail. As they rode along they kept a sharp lookout for Sol
Blugg and his cohorts, but that gang did not show itself.

"But they must be watching us, I am almost certain of that," said Dave.
And he was right. They were watching from behind one of the buildings of
Black Cat Camp, and as soon as it seemed safe to do so, Sol Blugg
ordered those with him to take up the trail.

"Abe Blower came this way, in a hurry, too," said Blugg, to his cronies.
"Now Tom Dillon is going the same way, and also in a hurry. That means
that something is in the wind. Maybe it's another big discovery of gold,
like when they opened up Big Bear Camp, and Hitchley's, an' if it is, we
want to be in on the ground floor."

"Right you air, Sol," said Larry Jaley. "And if we can cut Abe out o'
anything, so much the better, fer the trick he played us in that land
deal."

"The two crowds must be in with each other, otherwise wot was them young
fellers as is now with Dillon doin' at Abe's house?"

"We'll find out their game, sooner or later," muttered Sol Blugg. "We'll
keep on their trail--but we mustn't let 'em see us, or they'll take to
some side-trail and put us in blind."

It was another clear day, but the breeze from the mountains was fresher,
so that riding was not so tiresome as it had been on the first day out.
The trail was wide, in fact often used by wagons and carts, so that our
friends could ride two abreast.

"Not much of a farming country around here," remarked Dave, as he looked
at the general barrenness of the aspect. Here and there were clumps of
trees and patches of rough grass, and that was all.

"The farming country is further down, in the valleys," answered Tom
Dillon. "Some pretty good soil, too. But up this way it's only good for
mining. But that's good enough--if you've got a paying mine," and his
kindly eyes twinkled.

"You bet!" replied Dave, slangily. "Oh, I do hope we find this mine," he
added, in a lower tone. "The Morr family need it."

"I thought the senator was putty well fixed."

"He was, but he isn't now--and there is danger of his losing his office
this fall. If he does lose it, and we don't find the mine, I am afraid
it is going to go rather hard with the family."

"I see. Well, we'll do our best--nobuddy can do more."

"About how much further is that Landslide district from here?"

"Not over sixty miles as the crows fly. But by the trails it's every bit
o' twice that distance. An' some putty stiff travelin', too, in some
spots, believe me!" added the old miner.

"Do you think you can stand it?"

"Sure I can. And I like it, too, lad. I git tired o' sittin' around the
hotel, doin' nuthin' but readin' the papers and trying to be what they
call a gent of leisure. I was brought up on hard work, and outdoor life,
and I just have to git back to it onct in a while. If you hadn't come
along as you did, most likely I would have dug out for the diggin's
alone afore long."

"It's a grand life to lead--this one in the open air," said Dave,
filling his lungs with the ozone from the mountains.

"Best in the world, lad. It's the only life fer me, too. If I had to sit
in an office all day, or around a hotel where I had to wear one of them
biled shirts and a coat cut like a tack puller, I'd die, believe me! I'd
rather wear a gray shirt, an' eat off a tin plate, any day!"

By noon they came to a little mountain stream of the freshest and purest
of water and there they went into temporary camp. A tiny blaze was
kindled, and they made some coffee, which they drank while eating some
sandwiches Dick Logan had put up for them.

"See that ridge?" asked Tom Dillon, just before they were ready to start
again, and he pointed to an elevation to the northwest. And as all three
lads said they did, he continued: "Well, just back o' that is the
deestrict where that big landslide took place and buried the Landslide
Mine out o' sight."

"Why, that doesn't look to be very far away!" cried Roger.

"No, it don't look so, lad. But you must remember that the air up here
is very clear an' you can see for a long distance. You'll find it a
long, hard ride afore you reach that ridge, let alone the place behind
it where the mine was."

"Are there any settlements on the way?" asked Phil.

"None that we will visit. Shaleyville is in that direction, and Tim
Dixon's over yonder, with Big Tree back o' it. But we will give them all
the go-by an' stick to this trail," concluded Tom Dillon.

All through the long afternoon they rode forward, up and up, the horses
panting for breath as the ascent grew more steep. Many times they had to
stop to rest. As they mounted higher, the panorama of hills and
mountains grew larger.

"What a beautiful spot!" cried Dave, when they were resting. "What a
grand painting this would make!"

"You'll find a painting of it--at the capitol building," replied Tom
Dillon. "A celebrated painter painted it and sold it to our State
government."

Forward they went again. Phil was now in the rear, looking after the
horse that was carrying their camping outfit. Just as those in front had
turned a dangerous corner of the rocky trail they heard a sharp cry from
the shipowner's son.

"Help! Quick, somebody help me! Stop that horse from falling over the
cliff!"

[Illustration: "QUICK, SOMEBODY HELP ME! STOP THAT HORSE FROM FALLING
OVER THE CLIFF!"]




CHAPTER XVIII

THE STOLEN HORSES


"Oh, look!"

"That horse is going over the cliff!"

"Take care, Phil, or he'll drag you with him!"

Such were some of the cries which arose as the others looked back on the
rocky trail and saw the situation.

The horse with the outfit had struck against a projecting rock and been
thrown sideways, to where the trail crumbled away in some loose stones
close to the edge of the dangerous cliff. The animal and the outfit were
in danger of going down to the depths below. Phil, on his own horse, had
caught hold of the other horse's halter and was trying to haul him to a
safer footing. But the youth and his steed were losing ground instead of
gaining it.

"Let go, or you'll go over!" screamed Roger, in increasing alarm. "Let
the outfit go, Phil!"

The shipowner's son tried to do as bidden. But now a new difficulty
presented itself. In his eagerness to hold the halter Phil had twisted
it about his hand and wrist. Now it was caught in the very flesh and
almost pulling one arm from its socket, as he tried to make his own
horse hold back.

Dave turned swiftly and so did the others, and for the moment there was
quite a mix-up on the narrow trail, and all were in danger of losing
their footing. Then they crowded to Phil's side, and while Dave caught
hold of the halter, Tom Dillon and Roger caught the falling horse with
the outfit.

"Turn him around--this way!" yelled the old miner, and, old as he was,
he showed a wonderful strength in shoving the falling horse back to a
firmer footing. The loose stones went clattering over the cliff in a
shower, and more than one horse snorted in fright.

It was a moment of dire peril and it looked as if somebody, or at least
one of the animals, must go over into that yawning chasm below. A stone
was flung up by a hoof, hitting Dave in the cheek. But he retained his
hold on the halter and pulled for all he was worth. Then came another
struggle, and at last the horse with the outfit stood on the safe
portion of the dangerous trail; and the peril was at an end.

"Oh!" gasped Phil, and for the moment that was all he was able to say.

"Give me that halter," said Tom Dillon. "I'll lead him while we are on
this narrow part of the trail."

"Are you hurt, Phil?" asked Dave.

"I--I guess not!" was the panting answer. "But I--I sure did think I was
going over there!" And the shipowner's son shuddered.

"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.