The two boys looked around them. The sun had sunk to rest behind the
mountain in the west, and the hollows between the hills were deep in the
gloom of the oncoming night. Far back on the trail they had come they
saw a small fire start up.

"That must be the campfire of those three horsemen," said Dave.

"More than likely," responded his chum. "Do you see anything ahead?"

Both looked, but for a long time could see nothing. Then they caught a
faint gleam from a point apparently halfway up the mountain, in the
direction where the Landslide Mine was supposed to be located.

"Maybe that's Abe Blower's camp!" cried Dave, who was the first to
discover the light.

"I'd like to know if Link Merwell and Job Haskers are really with him,"
said Roger.

"We ought to be able to catch up to them by to-morrow, so Mr. Dillon
said."

"Unless Merwell and Haskers fix it so that they throw us off their
trail, Roger. You know Mr. Dillon said they could branch off at Talpoll
Crossing. That is where a spur of the railroad cuts in, to reach the
mines on the other side of the hills--the railroad I suppose the
Landslide Mine would have to use in getting out ore."

The boys watched the distant light for a while longer, and then
descended to the camping spot. The others listened with interest to what
they had to report.

"We'll be after 'em at sun-up," said Tom Dillon. "An' now all o' yer had
better turn in an' get what rest you can."

This was sensible advice, and the three youths lost no time in following
it. They turned in around the fire, which was kept burning, so as to
keep away any possible prowling beasts. Tom Dillon was the last to
retire, he looking to it that all of the horses were tethered.

It was just growing daylight when Dave awoke with a start. Something had
aroused him--what he could not tell. He sat bolt upright, and at the
same moment the old miner, who was beside him, did the same.

"What's up?" asked Tom Dillon, instinctively feeling for the pistol he
carried.

"Our horses!" cried Dave. "They are running back on the trail!"

"Somebody is stealin' 'em!" roared Tom Dillon, and was on his feet on
the instant.

By this time the noise had awakened Phil and Roger, and all three boys
followed the old miner in arising. In the gray light of the morning they
could see that their four horses were moving along the back trail on a
gallop. A single man seemed to be in charge of them, on a steed of his
own.

"Halt!" yelled Tom Dillon. "Halt, or I'll fire on you!" And he raised
his pistol.

At this sharp command the man with the horses turned slightly to look
back. He crouched low, and wore a sombrero pulled down well over his
face. On the instant he rode to the front of the galloping steeds, thus
getting out of range of the old miner's weapon.

"Come on, we must get our hosses!" sang out Tom Dillon, and started
forward on the run. Then he let out a shrill whistle, one he knew was
used for calling the animal he had been riding.

The effect of the whistle was all that could have been desired. The
horse dropped to a walk and then turned back. And as Tom Dillon
continued to whistle, the intelligent steed came closer and closer,
until the old miner was able to grasp it by the halter.

But all this had taken valuable time, and meanwhile the other horses
continued to gallop on, led by the man in front, who was now riding like
the wind. Who he was they could not make out, but they strongly
suspected Sol Blugg or one of his cronies.

"I'd shoot if them hosses wasn't in the way!" cried Tom Dillon,
wrathfully.

"Can't you go after them?" asked Dave and Roger, in a breath.

"I can and I will!" answered the old miner. "Stay right here till I get
back!" And with those words he saddled his horse with all speed, and in
less than a minute later was flying down the back trail after the stolen
steeds and the rascal who was making off with them.




CHAPTER XIX

THE NEWSPAPER CLEW


"Do you think he'll catch that fellow?"

It was Phil who asked the question, as he and Dave and Roger watched the
old miner disappear around a bend of the back trail.

"I don't know about that," returned Dave. "But if he gets the horses
back it will be something."

"I should say yes!" cried the senator's son. "Why, we won't be able to
go on unless we get them back!" he added, his face showing his worry.

"Listen!" exclaimed Roger a minute later. "Somebody is shooting!"

It was true--a shot had sounded out on the morning air. Soon it was
followed by another, at a greater distance--showing that pursued and
pursuer were drawing farther from the boys.

The boys walked slowly back to the campfire and commenced to stir it up,
and then they finished their morning toilet. Dave heaved a deep sigh.

"I must say I don't feel much like eating," he observed.

"Oh, we might as well fix breakfast," came from Phil. "It will help to
pass the time. It won't do any good to just sit around."

Fortunately their provisions were at hand, so it was an easy matter to
prepare the morning meal. Before eating, however, Roger and Dave climbed
the tall rock behind the camp and looked for some sign of Tom Dillon and
the man he was pursuing.

"I can't see a thing," announced Roger, after a long look through the
field-glasses. "Here, you try," and he handed the glasses to our hero.

For several minutes Dave surveyed the distant landscape in vain. Then he
uttered a cry.

"I see them, Roger! There they go!" And he pointed excitedly with his
finger.

At a distance they could not calculate they saw Tom Dillon and the
rascal he was after, and also the flying horses. They were all bounding
along a rocky trail, the would-be horse thief well in advance. Suddenly
they saw this individual make a turn and disappear around some rocks.
The free horses kept on, with the old miner after them.

"That rascal has gotten away!" announced Dave. "He has given Mr. Dillon
the slip."

"Dave, do you think Mr. Dillon will catch our horses?"

"Yes--sooner or later. They are bound to stop running, to feed or to
drink, and then he'll round them up. I guess all we can do is to go
down and wait for him to get back."

"But those shots! What if he is wounded!"

"I hope he isn't, Roger."

They climbed down to the camp and told Phil about what they had
witnessed. Then all ate breakfast slowly, meanwhile discussing the
adventure from all possible standpoints.

"It was one of the Blugg crowd, I feel certain of that," said Dave.
"Perhaps it was Sol Blugg himself."

Slowly the morning wore away. When the sun came up it was very hot and
the youths were glad enough to draw into the shade of the rocks. Just
before noon all three climbed the tall rock again, to look not only for
Tom Dillon and the horses, but also for Abe Blower and those with him.

But not a soul was in sight, nor did any horses show themselves. At a
distance they made out some mule deer and several goats, but that was
all.

"Do you think we ought to walk along the back trail?" asked Roger, when
they were getting lunch. "Mr. Dillon may need our services."

"I'll go if you want me to, Roger," answered our hero. "But he was a
good distance away when we saw him through the glasses."

"Let us wait awhile--until the awful heat of the midday sun is over,"
suggested Phil. "The sunshine just now is enough to give one a
sun-stroke."

It was a little after three o'clock when the three lads prepared to walk
along the back trail, on the lookout for the old miner. But just as they
started Dave put up his hand.

"Listen!"

All did so, and from a distance heard the clatter of horses' hoofs on
the rocky trail. Then came a cheery call.

"It's Mr. Dillon!" cried Roger, and let out a call in return, and the
others did likewise.

Soon the old miner appeared around a bend of the trail. He was seated on
his own steed and driving the others in front of him. He looked tired
out, and the horses looked the same.

"Are you all right, Mr. Dillon?" sang out Dave, as he ran forward to
stop the nearest horse.

"All right, boys!" was the answer. "That is, I will be as soon as I've
rested a bit. I've had some ride, believe me!"

Roger and Phil helped Dave to secure the free horses and tether them,
and our hero held the old miner's steed while he fairly tumbled to the
ground. The horse was in a heavy lather, and Mr. Dillon was covered with
dust.

"You weren't shot, were you?" questioned the senator's son, anxiously.

"No, although I come putty nigh to it," was the answer, and the old
miner pointed to a hole through the brim of the hat he wore. "The skunk
fired twict at me!"

"We heard two shots," said Dave. "We were afraid you might be in
trouble. If we had had horses we would have followed you."

"I did better nor he did," went on the old miner, with a satisfied ring
in his voice. "I plugged him in the arm."

"You did!" exclaimed Phil. "We heard only two shots!"

"I fired later on, after he left the trail. He was just gittin' ready to
aim his gun ag'in when I caught him. His arm went down like lead, an'
the gun dropped to the ground; so I know I winged him. He didn't shoot
no more, only got into the timber quick as he could. Then I rounded up
the hosses an' started back."

"Who was it, do you know?" questioned Dave.

"It was Ham Staver. I suppose Sol Blugg and Larry Jaley sent him ahead
to steal the hosses. They thought it would be easy, with us asleep."

"It came pretty near being so," answered Dave, gravely.

Tom Dillon was glad enough to rest, and to partake of the hearty meal
the boys prepared for him. The horses were cared for, and the boys were
pleased to learn that they had not suffered through the wild run along
the rocky trail.

"If that Staver shows himself around Butte I'll settle accounts with
him," said the old miner, while eating. "But I reckon he'll stay away
for a while."

After an hour's rest the old miner announced that he was ready to go
forward once more. The sun was now well in the west, and it was not near
so hot as it had been in the middle of the day.

"I wish we could catch up to the Blower party by to-night," said Roger,
earnestly. "Mr. Dillon, do you think we can do it?"

"We can try, lad. But you must remember, we'll have to favor the hosses
a leetle. They have had a mighty hard run on't."

"I know. Well, don't go any further than you deem wise."

For the distance of half a mile the trail was comparatively good. But
then they came to an uneven locality, filled with dangerous holes and
pitfalls.

"Careful here, boys!" cried Tom Dillon. "We don't want none o' the
hosses to break a leg."

He was in the lead, and under his guidance they advanced slowly. At the
top of a short rise of ground he came to a halt.

"Here is where part o' that landslide occurred," he announced, pointing
with his hand. "I think myself it was somethin' of an earthquake,
although the scientific sharps say not. But if it wasn't an earthquake
it was mighty queer that it hit this spot and the other at the same
time--both bein' miles apart."

"Perhaps the shock of the falling rocks at one place shook the other,"
suggested Dave.

"Perhaps, lad. It's a mystery--an' I suppose it will remain a mystery.
We know some things about Nater, but there's others she keeps putty well
hid."

They went down on the other side of the rise, and then commenced to
mount an even larger hill--the last but one, so the old miner told the
boys. Far in the distance they could make out the railroad tracks,
winding along through the mountains. The sun was setting, and the
western sky was aflame with varied colors of most gorgeous hues.

"What a beautiful sunset!" murmured Dave.

Soon the gloom of evening commenced to settle about them. All had their
eyes ahead, but so far they had seen no trace of the Blower party.

"Wait a minute!" cried Dave, presently. He had seen something white
fluttering among the rocks on the side of the trail.

"What do you see?" asked Phil.

"A newspaper."

"Oh, let it go, Dave. We have all the old newspapers we want."

"I want to see how recent it is," was our hero's reply.

He got down, walked to where the paper rested in a crevice, and drew it
forth.

"It's a copy of a mining journal," he announced, as he looked the sheet
over. "The issue for last week," he added, gazing at the date. "It's
full of grease, too,--that's why they threw it away."

"Do you suppose it belonged to Abe Blower?" questioned Roger, coming up.

"It did!" cried Dave. He had turned to the front page of the paper.
"See, here is Abe Blower's name and address, stamped on for mailing
purposes. He got it through the mail just before he left and took it
along to wrap something in."

"Then that proves we are on the right trail!" cried Roger, joyfully. "I
wonder how long ago it was when he threw the paper away?"

"I'm not detective enough to tell you that, Roger," answered Dave, with
a grin. "But it's something to know we are on the right trail. They
might have taken to that cross trail, you know. We'll catch up to them
sooner or later."

Once more our friends went forward, this time along the very edge of the
new ridge that had shown itself after the great landslide. They had to
advance with caution, for loose stones were numerous and so were
dangerous holes.

"We can't go much further to-night," announced Tom Dillon; presently.
"This trail ain't safe in the dark."

"All right, Mr. Dillon, we'll stop when you say so," returned Roger,
with a bit of a sigh. "How much further to where the Landslide Mine was
located?"

"Not over two miles, as the crows fly, lad; but four to five miles by
the trail."

They went into camp in the very midst of the rocks. Strange as it may
seem, there was water there, coming from a tiny spring under a huge
boulder. It had a somewhat unpleasant odor, and the horses at first
refused it, but the old miner said it was drinkable.

"Only you don't want to live on it all the year around," he added, with
a grin. "A doctor onct tole me if you did that you might turn into
stone!"

"I know what I am going to do, as soon as it gets dark enough," said
Dave to his chums, while they were preparing supper.

"What?" asked the other boys.

"I am going to look for the campfire of that crowd ahead."

"Of course!" cried Roger. "And, Dave, if it isn't too far off, maybe we
can walk to it!" he added, quickly.

"So I was thinking."

Eagerly the three boys waited for the darkness of night to fall, in the
meanwhile getting supper and tidying up the camp. Then they climbed to
the top of the highest rock that was at hand and looked around them.

"I see a fire!" cried Dave, and pointed it out.

"Yes, and it looks to be less than a mile away!" returned Roger.

"Let's walk to it!" put in Phil.

And on this plan the three chums quickly agreed.




CHAPTER XX

THE EXPOSURE


When Tom Dillon heard about the light that had been seen and the
determination to walk to it, he wanted to know how far off it was.

"If it's that close we had better all go," he announced, after being
told. "If it's Abe Blower's camp it must be in a good spot, for Abe
knows this locality as good as I do and maybe better. A mile isn't so
far. We can walk an' lead the hosses, if we have to."

Less than quarter of an hour later found them on the way. The old miner
was in front, with Roger beside him, and Dave and Phil bringing up the
rear. All were on foot, for they had to pick their way in the darkness,
which seemed more intense than it had been on previous nights.

"The sky is overcast," observed Dave, as they trudged along the
uncertain, rocky trail. "Looks to me like rain."

"We'll catch it sooner or later," announced Tom Dillon. "And maybe we'll
have a big blow in the bargain."

"Then it blows up here?" queried Roger.

"Does it? I should say yes, lad! I've been in such a wind up here one
could hardly keep his feet. And the rain comes so thick an' fast it nigh
drowns you!"

As they advanced, they kept their eyes on the alert for the distant
campfire. Twice they found and lost it, but, as they came around another
spur of rocks they beheld it quite plainly and saw several figures
moving around it.

"Wait!" called Dave, to the others. "If that is Abe Blower's camp, and
Merwell and Haskers are with him, I've got an idea."

"What is that?" asked Roger.

"Why not let Mr. Dillon go ahead alone, and find out what Merwell and
Haskers have to say? We can sneak up in the darkness and show ourselves
later."

This was considered a good plan, and, after a short discussion, it was
adopted. The old miner mounted his horse and rode onward, the three boys
coming after him on foot and keeping in the shadow of the rocks to one
side of the uneven trail.

The clatter of the horse's hoofs on the rocks soon attracted the
attention of those around the distant campfire. The three persons came
forward, to see who was coming.

"Why, if it ain't Tom Dillon, of all men!" cried one of the three, and
his face, that had shown anxiety, broke into a smile. "How are you, Tom,
and what brings you up here?"

"I came to find you, Abe," was the old miner's reply. "They told me down
in Butte you were off to have another search for the lost Landslide
Mine."

"Saw Kate Carmody, I reckon," went on Abe Blower. "Yes, I'm goin' on
another hunt fer the mine--account o' these two gents," and Abe Blower
pointed to his companions.

"Who is this man?" asked one of the others, who had come from the
campfire.

"This is Tom Dillon, one o' the best old-time miners and prospectors in
Montany," answered Abe Blower, with a broad smile. "He used to know yer
uncle well," he added.

"Is that so? Then--er--perhaps he can help us to locate the lost mine."

"Mebbe--if he wants to spare the time. Ye see, Tom ain't so poor as I
be," explained Abe Blower. "He made his pile an' saved it, he did," he
added, admiringly.

"Who are your companions, Abe?" asked Tom Dillon, rather abruptly.

"Oh, sure, excuse me fer not introducin' you," cried the other miner.
"This here is Mr. Morr, son o' Senator Morr an' nevvy of Maurice
Harrison, an' this is his friend, Prefesser Haskers, o' the colledge
Morr ust to go to. Gents, this is Mr. Thomas Dillon, a miner an'
prospector, an' one o' the richest an' best men in Butte."

"Ah, glad to know you, sir!" exclaimed Job Haskers, and held out his
thin hand. But, somehow, Tom Dillon did not seem to see it and he merely
bowed.

"And you are Senator Morr's son, eh?" said the old miner, turning to
Link Merwell.

"I am," was the bold answer, but when the old miner looked him squarely
in the eyes, Merwell had to turn his gaze away.

"I understood that Maurice Harrison, when he died, willed the Landslide
Mine to your family," went on Tom Dillon.

"He did, and I and my friend are here to look for it," answered Link
Merwell.

"Think you'll find it?"

"Blower here says he will do what he can to discover it," broke in Job
Haskers. "He has a great reputation as a prospector."

"I will surely do my best for Maurice Harrison's nevvy," said Abe
Blower. "Maurice Harrison was mighty good to me, an' I ain't the one to
forgit that."

"Have you a brother?" asked Tom Dillon, turning again to Merwell.

"A brother? Why--er--no," answered the imposter, and then turned
suddenly pale. "Why--er--do you ask that question?" he faltered.

"I met another young fellow in Butte named Morr."

"I--I don't know him."

"He was with two other young fellows named Porter and Lawrence."

At this unexpected announcement Link Merwell's face grew paler than
ever. Job Haskers, too, showed that he was much disturbed.

"Did this--this Morr say where he was from, or where he was going?"
asked the former teacher of Oak Hall.

"Oh, the whole crowd was from the East. I reckon they are coming up
here," answered Tom Dillon, dryly. "They want to find you, Abe," he
added, with a wink at the other miner.

"Me? What fer?"

"They want you to locate this same Landslide Mine for them."

"The same mine? Say, Tom, what are you drivin' at?" demanded Abe Blower,
in astonishment.

"What I'm drivin' at is just this, Abe," answered Tom Dillon, and his
voice grew suddenly stern. "This ain't Roger Morr at all. The real
fellow you ain't met yet. This chap is a fraud!"

"Say--look here----" began Link Merwell.

"Is the--er--the other Morr--er--coming here?" faltered Job Haskers.

"I am not coming--I am here!" cried a voice, and Roger stepped from the
shadow of a near-by rock.

The senator's son faced Link Merwell and Job Haskers, and both stared at
him as if they were looking at a ghost, and backed away.

"Roger Morr!" faltered Merwell.

"Yes, Link. You didn't expect I'd follow you so soon, did you?" cried
Roger. "Now, I've got a nice account to settle with you. I want to know
what you did with my suit-case, and I want to know what you mean by
impersonating me."

"I--I----" began Merwell, and then stopped, not knowing how to proceed.

"This is--er--very unfortunate," murmured Job Haskers. He would have
retired had there been any place to retire to, which there was not.

"Say, are you Roger Morr?" gasped Abe Blower, gazing fixedly at the
senator's son.

"I am. And you are Abe Blower?"

"I sure am. But see here----"

"We'll explain everything in a few minutes, Mr. Blower. These fellows
are swindlers! They robbed me of my suit-case and then got ahead of me,
and that fellow impersonated me," and Roger pointed to Merwell. "We
hired Mr. Dillon to bring us to you--or at least he offered to come. He
knows that I am the real Roger Morr, and Maurice Harrison was my
mother's brother."

"Well, I never! But wot did they think to gain----"

"They wanted to locate the lost mine before I got here, that was their
game. What they intended to do later I don't know, but probably Job
Haskers was going to cook up some deal whereby our family could be kept
out of the property. He is a rascal----"

"See here, Morr, I won't--er--have you--ahem!--talk about me in
this----" commenced the former teacher.

"But I will talk about you!" interrupted Roger. "You are a rascal,
almost as bad as Merwell here, and you know it."

"Yes, and we know it, don't we, Phil?" cried another voice, and Dave and
Phil stepped into view.

"Porter--and Lawrence!" faltered the former teacher of Oak Hall, and he
looked almost ready to drop. "I--I----" He did not know how to finish.

"Say, I want to git the straight o' this!" burst out Abe Blower.

"This young man is givin' it to you straight, Abe," replied Tom Dillon,
pointing to Roger. "And these are his friends--all true blue to the
core. These other fellers are first-class swindlers. They took you in
good an' proper."

"If they did, they shall suffer fer it!" roared the other miner. "Do you
know, I kinder suspected somethin' was wrong. They didn't act as open as
honest folks should. An' they was in an all-fired hurry to git away from
Butte and from Black Cat Camp."

"Because they knew we were following them," explained Dave. "Link, I
guess you had better admit that the game is up," he went on, turning to
his former schoolmate.

"Is it up?" sneered Link Merwell. "Well, I don't know, Dave Porter. We
have as much right to hunt for that lost mine as you have."

"Oh, so that's the game, eh?" burst out Roger.

"You had no right to impersonate Roger," asserted our hero. "He can have
you arrested for that."

"Huh, that was--er--only done for--er--fun," faltered Link Merwell. "And
as for your old suit-case, it's on check at the Glenrose Hotel in Butte,
and there's the check for it," and he drew the brass disc from his
pocket and passed it over to the senator's son.

"Why did you take my suit-case?"

"Oh, for fun."

"He took it thinking he was going to get your map!" cried Dave. "Link,
what makes you act as you do?" went on our hero, earnestly. "When I
helped you on Cave Island you promised that you were going to reform."

"What's the use of reforming?" burst out the other. "Everybody in this
world is down on me! I don't dare to show my face wherever I am known!
There is a warrant out for my arrest!" And Link Merwell's face showed
his bitterness.

While the boys were talking Abe Blower and Tom Dillon had been
conversing together. Job Haskers was left in the cold, and he looked
much disturbed. Evidently he was thinking how foolish he had been to
come to Montana with Merwell.

"So this is the trick yer played on me, consarn ye!" cried Abe Blower,
coming from the other miner to Haskers. "I've a good mind to take it out
of yer hide!" And he shook his fist in the former teacher's face.

"Don't you touch me--don't you dare!" howled Job Haskers, in new alarm,
and he backed away so hastily that he tripped over some of the camp
outfit and went flat on his back.

The accident was such a comical one that Dave and his chums laughed
outright, and Tom Dillon and Abe Blower grinned broadly. Link Merwell
reached down and assisted the former teacher to his feet. Job Haskers's
face was sourness itself.

"Stop that! Don't you dare to laugh at me!" he roared. "Don't you dare!"

"We'll laugh as much as we please," answered Dave, boldly.

"I--I guess we had better get out of here," whispered Link Merwell,
nervously. "They--they might take it into their heads to harm us."

"Do you think so?" asked Job Haskers. "All right, I--I am ready to go.
But how are we to find our way back to the town?" he asked, helplessly.

"We'll have to follow the back trail," answered Link Merwell. Being used
to ranch life, this being in the open did not daunt him as it did the
former teacher. "Come on, let us get our horses and be off!" the youth
added. "It is getting too hot for us here!"




CHAPTER XXI

ON THE BACK TRAIL


"Just you two wait a minute!"

It was Tom Dillon who uttered the words, as he saw Link Merwell and Job
Haskers turn to where their horses were tethered.

"You bet they'll wait!" exploded Abe Blower, wrathfully. He stepped
forward and seized Merwell by the arm. "What do you mean by playing such
a trick as this on me?"

"Le--let go of me!" cried the youth, in fear. "Let go. I--I--didn't I
say it was only done in fun?"

"Fun? You won't think it's fun when I git through with you!"

"I--ahem! I think this whole matter can be settled amicably," put in Job
Haskers, with an effort. "I am satisfied now that we made a--er--a
mistake. But, as Merwell states, it was all done in a--er--a spirit of
fun."

"And now you want to sneak off--without even paying me for my trouble!"
cried Abe Blower.

"You said you'd come with me for nothing," returned Link Merwell, and
his voice had almost a whine in it.

"So I did, thinkin' you was Maurice Harrison's nevvy. If I had known you
was an outsider I wouldn't have come at all. I've got my own affairs to
'tend to. But bein' as I did come, you're goin' to pay me for my time
and trouble," went on the miner, sharply.

"Don't you want 'em arrested, Abe?" put in Tom Dillon. "As I understand
it, this here Merwell feller is wanted by the police as it is."

"Oh, don't arrest me! Please don't do that!" cried Link Merwell. He
turned to Dave and his chums. "Let me go, won't you? I--I didn't do
anything. I didn't take a thing out of your suit-case," he added, to
Roger.

His manner was so humble and he seemed so full of terror, that the boys
could not help feeling sorry for him, even though they realized that he
was a criminal and should be in the hands of the law.

"What do you think we ought to do, Dave?" whispered the senator's son,
pulling our hero to one side.

"That is up to you, Roger."

"If we make them prisoners what can we do with them? They will only
bother us in the search for the lost mine."

"I think I'd make them pay Abe Blower for his trouble and then let them
go."

"Yes, but they have got to promise not to bother us in the future," put
in Phil, who had followed Dave and Roger to a distance.

"They'll promise that, Phil. But you know what their promises are
worth," answered our hero.

A hot war of words followed, Abe Blower and Tom Dillon telling the two
rascals just what they thought of their conduct. Link Merwell was badly
scared, and the former teacher of Oak Hall looked very much disturbed.

"Well, I'll let you go, if the young gents say so," said Abe Blower,
finally. "But you have got to pay me fer my services in bringin' you out
here, an' you've got to put up fer them hosses you're to ride, so I'll
know they'll git back to town all right."

"We'll return the horses, never fear," said Link Merwell.

"Maybe--but I won't take no chances. You put up the price o' them, an'
I'll give yer a written order fer your money, to be paid to you by Hank
Davis, when he gits the hosses," said Abe Blower.

More words followed, but the miner was obdurate, and in the end Link
Merwell and Job Haskers had to put up nearly all the cash they had with
them. Then they were allowed to take the two horses they had ridden and
a small portion of the camping outfit--just enough to see them safely
back to the nearest town.

"Now remember, Link," said Dave, on parting with the youth, "you have
promised to leave us alone in the future. See that you keep that
promise."

"If you don't, we'll be down on you like a ton of bricks," added Phil.

"I won't bother you again," said Link Merwell, with downcast eyes. "I--I
guess I was a fool to go into this."

Job Haskers said little. But when he looked at our friends it was with
an expression as if he wanted to eat them up. He was in a great rage,
but he did not dare to show it. In utter silence he and Merwell mounted
their steeds and rode out of the camp, on the back trail. Not once did
they look behind. Soon the gloom of the night swallowed them up.

"A 'good riddance to bad rubbish,'" quoted Phil. "My, what a fool Link
is!"

"And Haskers is just as bad," said Roger.

"Link has the making of a fine fellow in him," said Dave, with a sigh.
"But he evidently prefers to be bad rather than good."

"Thet's the way with some fellers," remarked Abe Blower. "I've seen it
in minin' camps many times. A feller would slide in, an' he could make
money diggin' fer gold. But instead o' doin' it, he would jest fool away
his time gamblin' an' drinkin'. It's awful--the way some folks act."

"They won't have any easy time of it, getting back to Butte," said Dave.
"Perhaps they'll meet that Sol Blugg crowd on the way."

"Oh, don't say that!" cried Roger. "Why, they might side right in with
Blugg!"

"So they might," added Phil. "A case of 'birds of a feather,' you know."

"And so you are the real Roger Morr," said Abe Blower, catching Roger by
the shoulder and looking him squarely in the eyes. "Wall, I must say I
like yer looks a heap better nor I did the bogus one!" And he chuckled,
broadly.

"I am glad you do, Mr. Blower. I----"

"Now, stop right thar, lad, stop right thar! Ef you're goin' to be my
friend call me plain Blower, or Abe."

"As you will, Abe. I'm real glad to meet you, and I am sure we are going
to get along first-rate together," said Roger, and then the pair shook
hands once more.

"You must tell me all about yourself, and your friends, an' about them
two skunks as was wantin' to git in ahead o' you."

"I'll do that gladly," returned the senator's son. And then all in the
camp gathered around the fire, to talk the situation over and arrange
their plans for the morrow.

In the meantime Link Merwell and Job Haskers rode along the rocky trail
leading in the direction of Black Cat Camp. As long as they were within
hearing of those left behind neither said a word, but once at a distance
Job Haskers fairly exploded.

"Now you see what a plight you have brought us into!" he snarled. "Here
we are miles and miles from anywhere, and with hardly a dollar in our
pockets! It's a shame! If I had remained in the East, selling mining
stock, or something like that, instead of going on this wild-goose
chase----"

"I didn't know they were so close behind us," whined Link Merwell. "I
thought we would get off the regular trail before they came to this
locality."

"We were off the trail--it's the campfire told them where," went on the
former teacher. "Now, what are we going to do when we get back to town,
tell me that?"

"We'll get our money for the horses first," replied Link Merwell. He
grated his teeth. "I wish I could get back at them!" he cried.

"So do I, Merwell. But it can't be done--at least, I am not coming back
to this forlorn district, once I get to town again. And it looks
dangerous to me, with all these loose rocks ready to slide down into the
valley," added Job Haskers.

Full of bitterness, and trying to plan out what to do later on, the pair
continued on the back trail, moving slowly and with caution. At last,
completely tired out, they reached the spot where Dave and his chums had
stopped for supper. The campfire still smoldered among some rocks, for
in such a barren district it was not necessary to be careful for fear of
a conflagration.

"We'll rest here," declared Job Haskers, sliding from his saddle. He was
not used to riding and was so sore and stiff he could hardly move.

"All right," responded Merwell, and alighted also. They found the spring
and drank eagerly of the somewhat bitter water. Then they stirred up the
fire and proceeded to make themselves as much at home as possible.

But human nature can stand only so much, and soon, instead of talking
over their affairs, each sought forgetfulness in slumber. Exhausted,
they slept soundly until the sun came up. Then, eating a frugal
breakfast--for their stores were scanty--they continued on the way in
the direction of Black Cat Camp.

It was less than two hours later, when, coming around a turn in the
trail, they came in sight of another camp. They found three men seated
in the shadow of some rocks, for the day was becoming warm, all talking
earnestly. One man had his right arm in a sling.

"I wonder who they are?" remarked Link Merwell, as he and his companion
came to a halt.

"Wait, don't let them see us until you are sure they will be friendly,"
cautioned Job Haskers. "For all you know they may be some of those
dreaded road-agents one reads about in the newspapers. We don't want to
be robbed, or have our horses stolen."

"They certainly look like a hard crowd," whispered Merwell. "But I don't
think you'll find road-agents here,--not enough folks to rob."

The men were talking earnestly and had not noticed the approach of the
pair. As quietly as possible, Merwell and Haskers drew to one side and
dismounted. Then the boy who had spent so much time on his father's
ranch, motioned for the former teacher of Oak Hall to follow him.

"We'll crawl up and listen to a little of their talk," he whispered.
"That will soon tell us if we can trust them. If we can't, we'll go
around them--although I don't see any other trail among the rocks."

Job Haskers nodded, and slowly and cautiously the pair crawled over the
rocks until they gained a position close to the three men. Then they
settled back, to listen to whatever might be said.

Inside of half an hour Link Merwell and Job Haskers gained all the
information they desired. They learned that the three men were Sol Blugg
and his cohorts. The wounded man was Staver, and he had been shot
through the hand by Tom Dillon. He was very angry and willing to do
almost anything to square accounts. The men were sure that the Dillon
party and the Blower party were on the trail of a new find of gold and
wanted to get in "on the ground floor," as they expressed it.

"They can't do nuthin' to me about tryin' to git the hosses," said
Staver. "It's only Dillon's word against mine--an' you all know I got
shot in the hand by accident," and he winked suggestively.

"Sure, I done that myself," said Blugg, and laughed. "Nobody took their
hosses--so far as we know."

"I guess the new strike o' gold must be near the old Landslide Mine,"
said Larry Jaley. "Maybe it's the old mine itself."

"We'll soon know, if we watch 'em close enough," returned Sol Blugg. And
then they continued to talk, while Staver dressed his wounded hand,
which, fortunately for him, was not very badly hurt.

Link Merwell caught Job Haskers by the arm and pulled him back.

"I've got an idea!" he whispered, his eyes brightening with sudden
expectation. "Why can't we join these men and go after the Morr crowd
with them? It will give us a chance to get back at those fellows."

"No, I've had enough of this business," replied the former teacher of
Oak Hall. "I am going back to town as fast as I can, and then to the
East."

"Yes, but----" began Link, when he stopped short. Haskers's foot had
shoved a round stone and now this rattled over the rocks, creating
considerable noise.

"Who's that!" roared Sol Blugg, and leaped to his feet, drawing his
pistol as he did so. "Ho, look there! Hands up, or I'll fire!" he
yelled, as he discovered those who had been in hiding.




CHAPTER XXII

DAVE AND THE MOUNTAIN LION


"Don't fire, I beg of you! We--we are friends! Don't fire! Please put
down that pistol, do!"

It was Job Haskers who called out in this fashion, as he raised his
hands high in the air. He was seized with a chill, and shook from head
to foot.

Link Merwell was also agitated, and for the instant tried to back away.
Perhaps, now that Sol Blugg had spoken so harshly, the youth realized
that he was not such a kind-hearted fellow as Abe Blower had proved to
be.

"Come out here, where we can see you!" cried Blugg. "Larry, got yer
pistol?"

"I sure have," responded Larry Jaley, with a wicked grin.

"There is no need to do any shooting," said Link Merwell.

"You were spyin' on us," growled Staver.

"Who are you? Come here and give an account o' yourselves," ordered Sol
Blugg.

There was no help for it now, and, rather awkwardly, with their hands
still upraised, Job Haskers and Link Merwell stumbled over the rocks to
where the three men had been resting and talking.

"Humph, a tenderfoot!" muttered the leader of the trio, as he inspected
the former teacher of Oak Hall. "I don't reckon he's goin' to do us any
harm." He turned to Merwell. "Who are you, sonny?"

Link told him and also mentioned Haskers's name. "I was just coming
forward to introduce myself," he added.

"How kind," sneered Larry Jaley, with a mock bow.

"I was. We stepped behind the rocks to find out what sort of men you
were. And I guess you are just our kind," added Merwell, with a sickly
grin.

"How so?" demanded Sol Blugg, sharply. "No game, now."

"I'll give it to you straight," answered Link Merwell. "Can I put down
my hands? It's not comfortable to talk with them up in the air."

"All right,--and fire away," answered the leader of the men.

"We overheard what you said about the Abe Blower party and the Tom
Dillon party," pursued Merwell. "We were with Abe Blower, but the other
crowd came up and made it hot for us, and we got out. You said
something about their being here to locate gold. So they are, and now
that we are on the outs with those other people, if you say the word,
we'll go in with you. Isn't that right, Haskers?" asked Link, coolly.

"I--I presume so," answered the former teacher, nervously. He had
dropped his hands, but Sol Blugg still had his weapon handy, and the
sight of it was far from comforting.

"Had a row, did ye?" asked Blugg, curiously.

"Yes. You see, Blower wanted to run things to suit himself and
we--er--we didn't see things quite that way. Then Dillon came up with
his crowd, and they made matters worse than ever. We had some
information that we didn't want the others to have, so we got out," went
on Link Merwell, glibly. He was now recovering from his fright.

"Got information, have ye?" cried Larry Jaley. "About wot fer instance?"

"About what those fellows are after," answered Merwell. "Isn't that so?"
he asked, of Haskers.

"It is," answered the former teacher.

"Is it another gold strike?" burst out Sol Blugg, eagerly.

"Not exactly a strike," answered Merwell. "All of us came out to
relocate the lost Landslide Mine."

"What! That mine!" yelled Staver, and the tone of his voice showed his
deep disgust. "Nuthin' to it--nuthin' at all. If you're arfter thet mine
ye might as well go right back home. It's buried deep an' fer good."

"Let us hear what they have to tell," said Sol Blugg. "They may have
news worth listenin' to, Ham."

"I ain't goin' to waste no time lookin' fer thet lost mine," growled the
rascal who had been shot. "I'm goin' back to town an' let a doctor look
at this hand o' mine."

"And I will go with you!" put in Job Haskers, eagerly. "I have had
enough of the mountains! The others can locate that lost mine if they
wish."

"See here, you fellers sit down an' we'll talk this thing over," said
Sol Blugg. "If you've got Blower an' Dillon interested in lookin' fer
the lost mine there must be somethin' in it wuth knowin'. Might be as
you've got a new lead, or somethin'."

"I'll tell you what I know," answered Link Merwell.

He and Haskers, after bringing in their horses, sat down, and a talk
lasting the best part of an hour followed. The men from Butte asked many
questions, and wanted to know about the map and papers Roger was
carrying. Blugg and Jaley were evidently much impressed.

"You are right about one thing, Merwell," he said. "That mine is now
teetotally lost--the claim was shifted by the landslide. If we could
relocate the mine I think we could make our claim to it good at the land
office."

"Let us try it!" cried Merwell, eagerly. "We have as much chance to do
it as the Morr crowd."

"But he has that map, and the directions."

"We overheard all their talk, so I know as much as Roger Morr does. As
for Blower and Dillon, they don't know this district any better than you
men do, do they?"

"Not much better," answered Larry Jaley. "We've been here a good many
years." He turned to Staver. "What do you say, now?"

"Wall, wot this young feller says puts a different look on the
situation," replied the man who had been shot. "I'd like to have an
interest in thet mine myself--thet or the one Tom Dillon onct said he
had near it. An' as Sol says, if we relocated the claim, maybe we could
hold it at the land office--anyway, we could claim a fat slice o' the
wuth o' it."

"We'd claim it all!" cried Merwell.

"So we would!" came from Sol Blugg. "Say, sonny, you're the right kind,
I reckon, an' we'll call ourselves friends," he added, and put out his
hand to Link.

"Then we are--ahem!--not going back to town?" queried Job Haskers, in
disappointed tones.

"No, we'll watch those other fellers an' try to locate the lost mine,"
answered Sol Blugg; and this was finally agreed to, after a discussion
lasting another half-hour. Job Haskers was plainly disappointed, and his
face showed it, and Link Merwell had much difficulty in cheering up the
former teacher.

"We came out to locate that gold mine and we'll do it," said Merwell.
"And I want you to be on hand, when the time comes, to attend to the
legal end of it, so that we get our share. Of course, as I am wanted by
the police, I can't appear, but you can, and you can, secretly,
represent me."

"All provided the lost mine is found," responded Job Haskers. He had
plainly lost heart in the undertaking.

"Oh, we are bound to locate it--sooner or later," said Link Merwell,
enthusiastically.

While this plotting was going on, Roger and those with him were picking
their way with care over the loose stones that covered the ridge of
rocks where the great landslide had taken place. Here traveling was
exceedingly dangerous and often they had to proceed on foot, for fear of
going down into some hollow. None of the footing seemed to be safe, and
more than once Tom Dillon shook his head doubtfully.

"This land ain't got settled yet," he said to Abe Blower. "I shouldn't
be surprised if there was another landslide before long."

"Mebbe you're right, Tom," was Blower's reply. "But if it's to come, I
hope it comes arter we're away."

"I was thinkin' that maybe we had better go over to the second ridge. It
might be safer."

"I was thinkin' that myself."

"Then we'll git over as soon as we hit a good crossin-over place,"
replied Tom Dillon.

As they were now close to the spot where the Landslide Mine was supposed
to have been located, Roger became very eager to do some real searching
for the mine. And Dave and Phil were equally anxious to aid their chum.

Coming to something of a plateau of rocks, the party spread out,
searching for certain landmarks which Abe Blower had mentioned. This
search was by no means easy, for some of the loose rocks were very large
in size--one being as big as a house--and it was difficult to find one's
way along among them.

Dave was riding along slowly, letting his horse find the best footing
possible, when he came to a narrow defile. The rocks were on both sides,
and most of them sticking up from five to ten feet above his head.

"It wouldn't be any fun if some of those loose rocks came down on a
fellow's head, or on his horse," mused our hero, as he moved along. "I
wonder where this way leads to?"

At a distance he could hear the others talking, so he knew they were not
far off. They, too, were now among the big rocks, and each hidden from
the others. Then the talking gradually ceased, giving way to an
occasional call or whistle.

"Oh, if only I could just stumble into the entrance to that mine!"
thought Dave. "What a fine thing it would be for Roger and his family! I
know they need the money!"

He kept his eyes on the alert, but none of the signs for which he was
searching appeared, nor did anything that looked like a mine entrance
show itself.

It was growing towards sunset when Dave, who had just met Phil and
separated from him, came to another rocky defile, this time leading to
something of a hollow. Here the air was damp and cool and our hero
paused for a moment, for he felt tired and hot after the hard riding of
the day.

"Wonder where we will camp for to-night," he mused, as he gazed around
him. "I hope we find some nicer spot than this. This looks so lonely and
spookish. Well, I suppose I've got to go on, or they'll get ahead of
me, and it would be no fun to get lost. A fellow----"

Dave came to a stop in his musings and also drew up his horse. He had
taken but a few steps farther, and now saw, to one side of the rocky
defile, a small opening, leading into a sort of hill.

"Looks as if it might be a kind of cave," he told himself. "I guess I'd
better dismount and take a look inside. It might be the entrance to the
lost mine!"

Suiting the action to the word, Dave leaped from his horse, and letting
the steed stand, approached the cave. The entrance was comparatively
small and he had to stoop down to peer inside.

As he did this there came a sudden ominous growl from the interior of
the cave. It was the growl of a wild beast and caused the youth to leap
back in alarm. Then a slinking body came into view and a full-sized
mountain lion showed himself!

Dave ran toward his horse. But as the mountain lion gave another growl,
the horse snorted and plunged, in sudden fright. Then the steed took to
his heels and went clattering along the rocky defile.

"Stop!" yelled the youth. "Stop!" And then he set up a call for
assistance.

At the sound of his voice, the mountain lion paused, just outside the
entrance of the cave. Evidently he did not wish to become trapped in
such narrow quarters. He eyed Dave with glaring eyeballs, and showed his
gleaming teeth. His tail began to switch from side to side, and he
crouched low, as if contemplating a spring at the boy.




CHAPTER XXIII

IN THE MOUNTAIN CAVE


Dave had been in perilous situations before, and had learned the
important lesson that if he lost his wits all would be lost. The
mountain lion was large and powerful and evidently in full fighting
humor.

The youth was armed, carrying a pistol by Tom Dillon's orders. Now, as
he backed against the nearest rock, he drew the weapon and pointed it at
the beast.

The mountain lion crouched still lower and the tail of the creature
moved from side to side with greater swiftness. Dave felt that in
another second or two the beast would make a leap for him.

In the semi-darkness of the rocky defile he could see the lion but
indistinctly. But the two eyes were glaring at him and on one of these
he centered his aim as best he could.

As he pulled the trigger of the pistol the mountain lion jumped at him.
Crack! went the weapon, echoing loudly in that confined space. The
bullet missed the beast's head and buried itself in the shoulder. As
Dave fired he leaped to one side.

It was well that our hero made that move, otherwise the mountain lion
must have come down directly on top of him. As it was the beast fell at
his side, snarling and snapping fiercely, and turning in an effort to
ascertain what that thing was which was burning him in the shoulder.

Crack! the pistol sounded out again, and this time the mountain lion was
hit in the neck. Over and over he rolled, but got quickly to his feet,
and, wounded as he was, prepared for another spring at our hero.

Again Dave fired, but this time his aim was not so true, and the bullet,
grazing the lion's tail, struck a rock with a sharp click. Then the
savage creature hurled himself straight for Dave's breast.

Bang! bang! It was the double report from a huge, old-fashioned
horse-pistol that Tom Dillon carried. The old miner had come clattering
to the spot on horseback and with a single glance had taken in the
situation. The leap of the mountain lion was stayed, and with a final
snarl the beast rolled over and over, disappearing of a sudden into the
opening of the cave Dave had discovered.

"Are you hurt, lad?" asked the old miner, after he had waited anxiously
for several seconds for the mountain lion to reappear.

"Not in the--the least," was our hero's panting answer. "But it--it was
a close call!" and he shuddered. "Do you think he's dead?"

"I shouldn't wonder. You hit him, didn't you?"

"Yes, twice. But they couldn't have been very good shots, or he wouldn't
have come for me again."

"Mountain lions is mighty tough, lad. I've seen one with six bullets in
him still show fight. Load up, as quick as you can. His mate may be
around."

This advice was, however, unnecessary for Dave was already recharging
the empty chambers of the pistol. From his Uncle Dunston he had learned
years before the advisability of keeping one's weapon ready for use at
all times.