CHAPTER XIII.—ALEX PLANS A NIGHT ADVENTURE.
The boys talked over the possibility of King having the third paper for a long time. They could not see how the deputy had been able to secure it, if he had done so, unless he had discovered it in the cellar, which seemed to them to be highly improbable.
“That uncle of yours must have been a quaint old chap,” Clay said, laughingly. “How, for instance, did he know that you would ever find the bonds in the strong room?”
“I’m sure that he left a paper somewhere which tells about them,” was the boy’s reply. “Perhaps this third paper will unravel the whole mystery. Uncle told us about some papers the last time we saw him at the shack in the Grand Canyon, but he did not tell us where they were. He said we would find them after he was dead. I believe that all the papers were left in a letter for us, and that this man Trumbull stole it.”
“How do you account for his having a chance to get them?”
“He was there, in the canyon, living near Uncle, when the latter died—suddenly and alone, and was the first one there, the others say. It is said, too, that a letter was left for us, and that it disappeared. I knew Trumbull to be a thief, because he salted a mine and sold it, so I naturally suspected him of taking the letter. This is how I came to get the two papers and the money!”
“How did you come to find Trumbull in Chicago? All this is very interesting to me. Wasn’t that a long chance—to find him at all?”
“We were in Chicago, earning our own living, when Uncle died. The people living near the canyon wrote us about Uncle’s death, and about this man Trumbull being there, and about the disappearance of the letter. I thought the letter might have contained the promised papers, and so watched for Trumbull, never expecting to see him there, though!”
“But you did find him! However did it happen?”
“After being in Chicago a short time, I got a position as errand boy in a bank. I suspected at the time I got the place that the manager took more than the usual interest in me, and I thought that he might know Uncle David. That was before Uncle died, you see.
“Well, the manager took me on as errand boy, but after a time he kept me working for him, and about his own private office in the bank, most of the time, and often asked me about my uncle’s affairs, of which I could tell him nothing, of course. I had not been there very long when Josiah Trumbull came into the private office one day and laid a mining proposition before the manager.
“I heard some of the talk, and discovered who he was, and also learned that the mine he proposed developing was in the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. He said it had been proven that the ore was virtually inexhaustible, and added that he had come upon papers which showed him where it was. The location was in the part of the canyon where Uncle had lived.
“Then I recalled the talk Uncle David had had with me about valuable documents, every word of it! I recalled, too, that that this man Trumbull had been suspected of taking the letter! I watched him closely, you may be sure! Quite like a detective story, eh?”
“It may prove to be one before the end is reached,” Clay said. “Go on! I’m more interested than I can tell you!”
“Well, one day Trumbull came into the private office with a handbag and set it down on a desk. He said he had drawn a little money and had placed the papers he had spoken of with it. He added that he was going out to the canyon mine to look into the matter.
“I stole that bag. I did not know that it contained a large sum of money. I knew only that it contained the papers I wanted. By this time, you see, I was certain that Trumbull had stolen the papers, that the papers concerned a mine, and that he was about to acquire what belonged to Tom and myself.
“I escaped, as you know. Just how I’ll not tell you now. I should have consulted the manager, but ran off without doing so. That same day I read in the newspapers about you boys and the Rambler. You see, I had no money, save the $50,000, and I would not touch that, so I planned to get to the Gulf of California and go up the Colorado with you! Tom was crazy about it, and we started away. You know what wretched objects we were when we came up with you.”
“But what got the notion into your head that the third paper was in the wallet in the old cellar?” asked Alex.
“One day Uncle David told me of the old house being empty and in the last stages of decay. We had visited the place with him, earlier, you see, and I knew something about the treasure room. He had always told me, though, that no money or thing of value would be found there. He said that I must work for all I got of him.
“He said, though, that I might find some good advice in the treasure room after he was dead. I did go there, with Tom, on my way to Chicago, after we left him, but discovered nothing. I had even forgotten the manner of getting into the treasure room. But when I found the two papers in Trumbull’s bag I at once drew the conclusion that the third paper must be in an old wallet Uncle had referred to as being in the old cupboard. I was pretty sure it would be found there, as you know. The only question in my mind was as to whether I should be able to get into the treasure room and make a search of it without tearing the house down. Tom did not know of this difficulty, and I never told him.”
“You’re telling me now!” laughed Tom.
“When we got to Yuma,” Don went on, “we were too busy dodging King to do much investigating at the old house. Trumbull must have told King about it, for he watched the place, as you know, and even dug there for treasure. Tom and I got separated on the way across, and King saw me while I was waiting for Tom to come up.
“When he did come, I left him there and went on down the river to connect with you. There was nothing Tom could be arrested for. Now, that’s how I got the money and the two papers, and also how I didn’t get the third paper!” the boy laughed, “and so we’ll talk about something else if you don’t mind.”
“But how are you ever to get this third paper, and how are you to get the treasure if you don’t?” asked Case.
“With your permission I’ll go on up with you to where Uncle used to live and search his old shack. The third paper may be there. Of course the bonds are what Uncle David referred to as ‘good advice’ in the treasure room. That was just like him, to call bonds ‘good advice.’ If I ever discover the third paper, I have no doubt it will tell me where to look for the bonds. He never thought of their being found in the manner Clay found them!”
“Where did you ever hear anything about a third paper?” asked Clay.
Don took the original papers holding the drawings out of the belt and held it up to the light.
“Did you see this line at the bottom?” he asked. Alex gave a start of surprise. He had studied every figure and letter on the paper and had seen no line at the bottom, yet there it was, plain to see when the paper was held up to the sun. The line read:
“Worthless without No. 3!”
“There you are,” Don went on. ‘Worthless without No. 3.’ Josiah Trumbull and King found that line, and they are, or were, hunting for No. 3, just the same as we are! Now, if you boys think this mystery will spoil your trip, just put us off and we’ll get to the canyons some other way, but, still, we’d like to go with you!”
“I’m so seriously interested in the mystery,” smiled Clay, “that I wouldn’t feel like making the trip, now, without you and the two pieces of paper. How do you feel about it, boys?”
How did they feel about it? What would two healthy boys naturally say to a mysterious adventure of the sort proposed? Hunting for the buried gold of Captain Kidd looked like a summer afternoon game of marbles compared to this! The Grand Canyon and a mystery! Marks on a rock, perhaps thousands of feet below the level of the plateau! A missing paper and a contest as to who should get to it first! Surely, no game could be more exciting. And the boys said so, and all shook hands on the proposition, after which they ate dinner and Clay went on shore to see about buying gasoline, provisions and a small rowboat.
He returned just before nightfall, perspiring with the heat of the desert sun, and the articles he had bought were soon on board.
“I saw the last of King,” he reported. “At least the last of him for some days to come, as he took train for Phoenix. He’s a good sort, is King, but if he thinks his conscience will hurt if he doesn’t know more about the secrets of the Grand Canyon, he’ll hire a motor boat and follow us. I imagine he has telegraphed to Trumbull, for I saw him waiting at the office for a message. I heard him tell the clerk in the office to query Chicago.”
“Good luck to him!” laughed Don. “He is loyal to that thief of a Trumbull, all right, for he made us promise not to prosecute him if it should be discovered that he had committed some crime in connection with his dealings with Uncle David, also to restore the money to him if it did not prove to belong to Tom and myself.”
“Some one ought to be in Chicago, watching Trumbull,” suggested Tom. “Suppose I go? I can get there if the rods hold out! What do you say?”
“It would be a great idea,” Don agreed, “but we have had enough of riding on the rods, and we have no money.”
“But the bonds!” laughed Alex. “What about them? How much are they worth, Clay?” he added. “You handled them.”
“Something over one hundred thousand,” was Clay’s reply, “but there is no proof that they belong to Don and Tom, you know.”
“That’s why I put them in bank,” Don cut in.
“If you think you ought to go back to Chicago, Tom,” Clay said, “I’ll furnish the money. But what can you do there?”
“He can go to the manager of the bank where I worked,” Don explained, “and tell him the whole story, and he’ll help. I believe that manager knows more about this matter than he pretends to!”
“How did you manage to get into that bank in the first place?” asked Alex. “It ain’t every street boy that gets such a chance.”
“Oh, I met one of the bank’s messengers one day, and he told me I might get a job there. Odd, wasn’t it?”
Clay broke into a roar of laughter, whereat Don assumed a manner of wounded dignity and walked away.
“Come back here, you foolish lad!” Clay called. “You may be sure that manager does know more about this matter than he pretends to know! The chances are that he had been keeping track of you for a long time, just to see what kind of a boy you were!”
“Then why didn’t he help me?” asked Don.
“How do you know what your uncle told him to do? I reckon this Uncle David of yours knew what he was about! He didn’t want you and Tom spoiled by inheriting a lot of money! He wanted you to dig it up!”
“Yes,” replied Don, mournfully, “and I guess he buried it so deep that no one will ever be able to dig it up!”
“Anyway, you two boys have shown the proper spirit,” Case said, “and that ought to count for much. And you have the bonds!”
So it was arranged that Tom should go to Chicago that night and go to the banker and tell him the part of the story he did not know. The parting was a grave one, for the brothers were deeply attached to each other, and there was no knowing what perils would confront either of them before they met again.
After supper the Rambler was speeded up the river for twenty miles or more, “to get her out of the odor of trouble,” as Alex expressed it.
“Now,” Clay declared, when they came to anchor below Norton, with Chimney Peak showing not far away, “we are going to have a night free from boarders and troubles about money. We are off in good earnest at last.”
“That’s a pretty tolerable old mountain,” Alex declared, pointing to Chimney Peak. “I’d like to take a spin over to it.”
“You’ll stay right on this boat,” ordered Clay. “I’m not going to lose any time hunting you up.”
“I won’t get lost in any cellar!” returned Alex, with one of his provoking grins.
It was agreed that Case should stand guard that night, and the others went to their bunks early, with the exception of Captain Joe, who took his station on the prow and watched the slow-moving water with a meditative air. Teddy tried for a time to engage him in a boxing contest, but the dog declined with thanks and continued his inspection of the river.
It was a beautiful starlit night, and Alex was too full of the old spirit of adventure to sleep. He tumbled about in his bunk for a time and then arose and peered out on deck.
Captain Joe was still on sentinel duty, but Case was actually asleep in his chair! The boy was worn out with the excitement and worry of the day. Alex did not disturb him, but sat down by his side and looked longingly off toward Chimney Peak.
“Captain Joe!” he finally whispered.
The dog pricked up his ears and walked sedately up to the boy.
“Will you remain here and watch the boat while I go ashore?” asked Alex, patting the dog on his head. “Will you, old top?”
Captain Joe looked off toward the mountain summit and made no rash promises! He was a wise dog, and knew the ways of boys!
“It is just this way, Captain Joe,” Alex went on, talking to the bulldog as if he understood every word, “it is just this way. Those sleepy heads in the cabin, and this one out on deck, would sleep in the presence of the pyramids! You know it, don’t you?”
The dog said that he did in a tongue which Alex understood.
“Well, then we’ll go ashore and see what that hill is made of,” the boy went on. “We’ll take the rowboat and pay a visit to the Chimney!” It looks pretty classy from here, eh?”
Captain Joe admitted that it did, and the boy got out the rowboat and left the Rambler, the dog sitting in the prow with an air of being necessary to the expedition. The boy and the dog saw adventure ahead and were recklessly, foolishly glad of it!