“It will, Dave,” answered Ben, his face beaming. “I know father will recover now that he has nothing more to worry about.” Ben was right. The recovery of the fortune in miniatures did much toward restoring the real estate dealer to his former good health.
In the camp it was remarked by a number of men how much Ward Porton resembled Dave. But no one at that time dreamed that this resemblance 292 was shortly to come to an end. Yet such was a fact. When being transferred from Texas to the State in which his crimes had been committed, Ward Porton attempted to make his escape by leaping from a rapidly moving railroad train. As a consequence he broke not only both of his legs, but also his nose, and cut his right cheek most frightfully. As a result, when he was retaken he had to remain in the hospital for a long time, and when he came out his face was much disfigured and he walked with a decided limp.
“It’s too bad, but he brought it on himself,” was Dave’s comment, when he heard of this.
“It’s a good thing in one respect,” was Roger’s reply. “With his nose broken and his cheek disfigured and with such a limp, no one will ever take Ward Porton for you again.”
It may be mentioned here that when the proper time came Ward Porton and Tim Crapsey were brought to trial and each was given a long term of imprisonment. Ward’s father and the other men who had participated in the attack on the Tolman ranch and on the bridge and had been captured were also severely punished.
The store-keepers and the hotel-keeper who suffered through Ward Porton’s misrepresentations could get nothing from the young culprit, but they had the satisfaction of knowing that he 293 had now been put where it would be impossible for him to dupe others.
Ben Basswood remained at the camp but a few days, and then he and Dunston Porter started northward. The miniatures had been boxed up and shipped by express, insured for their full value. It may be stated here that they arrived safely at their destination. Those which had been disposed of in New York City were recovered, and in the end Mr. Basswood disposed of the entire collection to the museums in four of our large cities for the sum of seventy-five thousand dollars. With part of this money he went into several heavy real estate deals, taking Ben in with him, and father and son did very well.
“I think the getting back of those miniatures was entirely your work, Dave,” declared Roger, one day.
“I don’t know about that,” answered our hero, modestly. “I think you had a hand in it.”
“I had a hand in catching Ward Porton, but you were the one to spot that cache and locate the Basswood fortune.”