“Hip, hip, hurrah!”—all four voices shouted the triple toast as the upraised glasses clinked merrily.
Buck resumed his former position, with his back against the cracker boxes.
“As I was sayin’, boys, when that automobile interrupted us, I know when I’m licked. But I know, too, that the fightin’ blood is still left in me, and I was a-goin’ to remark that this new town sure ‘nuff looks a winner. I’ve got plenty of lumber right in my back yard, and tomorrer mornin’ I begin to have the scantlin’s cut, for, by jingoes, I’ll be the chap who will build the first buildin’ in the new town.”
“Bully for you,” cried Munson.
“I say what I mean,” continued Buck, his face aglow with enthusiasm, “and on Tuesday mornin’ I’ll buy the first town lot if I have to stand in line for forty-eight hours to get it.”
“Life in the old dog yet,” laughed Jack Rover. “It’s wonderful the effect of Pierre Luzon’s brew,” smiled the sheriff. “I think we’ll just have four more spoonfuls, Buck, of that distilled nectar of sunshine. Success to the new store, old man!”
CHAPTER XXIX—-The Rendezvous
SUMMER had come and gone and it was now the early days of October. The mystery of Dick Willoughby’s disappearance had remained unsolved, yet it was on his plans that the new city of Tejon had been laid out, and, like the fabled palace in the Arabian Nights’ tale, had sprung into being with such rapidity that men rubbed their eyes to satisfy themselves whether the transformation scene were an actuality or the baseless fabric of a dream. Within three months of the opening day auction of lots Tejon was a thriving, hustling centre of population, with whole avenues of beautiful homes, several blocks of stores on the main street, schoolhouse and other public buildings well on the way to completion.