It was not a long journey to Cal Corning’s place, a long, low log cabin containing eight rooms, all on the ground floor. Behind the cabin were half a dozen outbuildings, for Corning was the only man in that vicinity who kept any cattle.
“Well, I’ll say this is an improvement over Toby White’s place,” remarked Jack, when they were settling down in the three rooms assigned to them. Two were of fair size, and these were taken by the boys, while the third, a smaller room, went to Tom Rover.
“I’ve made a deal with Corning,” announced the twins’ father, when the Rovers were alone. “He is going to keep an eye on the office of the Rolling Thunder mine.”
“The office?” asked Jack. “Is he an expert bookkeeper, or something like that?”
“No, no! Nothing of that sort, Jack,” and Tom Rover smiled. “I’m simply going to have him watch, so that Garrish doesn’t take it into his head to have the records of the mining company carted away. I want to get at the bottom of this deal with that concern that is getting a good part of our ore.”
After that several days slipped by without anything unusual happening. Tom and the boys took a look around the outside of the mine, and even glanced in at the office. They saw Peter Garrish, but had no further words with him.
“He can stew until I’m ready to move,” said Tom to the boys. “I’ll wager he’s doing a lot of deep thinking right now.”
On the afternoon of the third day the boys rode over to Maporah to post some letters, the post-office being in Gus Terwilliger’s store.
“Here are some letters for you fellows, and also a letter for Mr. Rover,” said the storekeeper, and he handed the epistles over. “They came in on the noon train.”