Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

The long horseback ride of the morning had whetted their appetites.—Page [125].

Dave Porter Series

DAVE PORTER’S GREAT SEARCH
OR
THE PERILS OF A YOUNG CIVIL ENGINEER

BY

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

Author of “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” “The Old Glory Series,” “Colonial Series,” “Pan-American Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY WALTER S. ROGERS

BOSTON

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.

Published, August, 1917

Copyright, 1917

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.

All rights reserved

DAVE PORTER’S GREAT SEARCH

Norwood Press

BERWICK & SMITH CO.

NORWOOD, MASS.

U. S. A.

PREFACE

“Dave Porter’s Great Search” is a complete story in itself, but forms the thirteenth volume in a line issued under the general title of “Dave Porter Series.”

As my old readers know, this series was begun some years ago by the publication of “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,” in which my readers were introduced to a wideawake, American boy at an up-to-date American boarding-school. This was followed by “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” where our hero had gone to find his father, and then by “Dave Porter’s Return to School.” After that we had “Dave Porter in the Far North,” where the lad went on a second journey looking for his parent; “Dave Porter and His Classmates,” in which our hero was put to a most unusual test; and then by “Dave Porter at Star Ranch,” in which he took part in many strenuous adventures.

From the Wild West Dave returned again to school, as related in “Dave Porter and His Rivals.” Then he took a sea voyage, as told of in “Dave Porter on Cave Island,” and later still taught some of his school chums a much-needed lesson, the particulars of which are given in “Dave Porter and the Runaways.”

The lad had imagined his strenuous adventures were now at an end, but this was not to be. He heard of a lost mine, and, with his chums, went in search of it, as related in “Dave Porter in the Gold Fields.” Coming back, he put in some fine times in the Adirondack Mountains, as related in “Dave Porter at Bear Camp.”

By this time the lad had graduated from school, and he now took up the study of civil engineering. There was another lad who looked exactly like Dave, and this person caused our hero much trouble, as told of in “Dave Porter and His Double,” where we last met him.

In the present volume Dave is still pursuing his calling of civil engineering. He is at work in the mountains when he comes face to face with one of his old-time enemies. Later still word comes to the youth that his dearest girl friend, Jessie Wadsworth, and his sister Laura have disappeared from home. One surprise is followed by another, and the young civil engineer is confronted by many perils.

Once again I thank my young readers for the interest they have shown in the various volumes I have written for them. I trust that the reading of this book will benefit them all.

Edward Stratemeyer.

May 1, 1917.

CONTENTS

DAVE PORTER’S GREAT SEARCH

CHAPTER I
IN THE MOUNTAINS

“What do you think of that sky, Dave?”

“It looks to me as if we were in for a storm, Roger,” answered Dave Porter, a trace of anxiety crossing his usually pleasant features.

“Perhaps it is only wind,” vouchsafed Roger Morr, after he brought his horse to a standstill so that he might scan the distant horizon minutely. “You know they do have some terrible wind storms out here in Montana.”

“Oh, yes. I remember the big winds we had when we were out at Star Ranch,” answered Dave. “Don’t you remember once we thought we were in for a regular tornado?”

“I surely do remember. Say, Dave, those were certainly great days on the ranch, weren’t they?”

“Now that we’ve moved up here to Montana I hope some day to get the chance to run out to the ranch,” continued Dave. “I would like very much to meet Belle Endicott and her folks.”

“I’ll wager you’ll find Phil Lawrence sneaking out this way some day,” laughed Roger.

“Can you blame him, Roger? Belle is an awfully nice girl.”

“Of course I shouldn’t blame him, any more than I’d blame myself for—for——”

“Than you would blame yourself for sneaking off to Crumville to see my sister,” laughed Dave.

“Humph! I guess you wouldn’t mind being back in Crumville this moment, calling on Jessie Wadsworth.”

“I don’t deny it. But say, let us get on our way. Those black clouds are coming up altogether too rapidly to suit me.”

“How many miles do you suppose we are from the camp?”

“Six or eight at least. You know we followed this trail for a long time before we stopped to have lunch.”

“If that new branch of the M. C. & D. Railroad comes through this way it will certainly follow a picturesque route,” declared Roger.

“That will suit the summer tourists, even if it doesn’t cut any ice with the natives. But come on, we had better not waste any more time. Before you know it it will be dark and that storm will be upon us.”

The two young civil engineers were high up on a trail among the mountains of Montana. Far below them stretched a rugged valley, containing more rocks than grazing lands. Off to the southward could be seen a small stream which some time before had been shimmering in the sunlight, but which now was almost lost in the sudden gloom that was overspreading the sky.

“What a difference between the scenery here and that along the Rio Grande,” remarked Roger, as the two chums made their way along the narrow trail leading to the camp of the Mentor Construction Company.

“I’m glad of the change, Roger. I was getting tired of the marsh land along that river, and I was also mighty tired of those greasers.”

“Not to say anything about the raids the Mexicans made on us,” laughed the chum. “Say, we came pretty close to having some hot times once or twice, didn’t we?”

“I hope, Roger, we are able to make as good a showing up here on this railroad work as we did on that Catalco Bridge. That certainly was a superb piece of engineering.”

Dave was silent for a few minutes while the horses trotted along the stony trail. Then, pleased by a passing thought, his face and eyes lit up with enthusiasm.

“Wouldn’t it be grand, Roger, if some day you and I could put through some big engineering feat all on our own hook?” he cried. “Think of our putting up some big bridge, or building some big tunnel, or some fine skyscraper, or something like that!”

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to do it some day. The men who are at the head of the Mentor Construction Company had to start as we are doing—at the foot of the ladder. What one man has done, some other fellow ought to be able to do after him.”

“Right you are! But ride slow now. If you’ll remember, the trail is rather dangerous just ahead of us.”

The admonition that had been given was not necessary, for both young men knew only too well the danger which lay ahead of them. At this point the trail became exceedingly narrow and wound in and out around a cliff which towered at least a hundred feet above their heads. In some spots the trail was less than a yard wide, and on the outer edge the rough rocks sloped downward at an angle of forty-five degrees.

“If a fellow slipped down there I wonder where he would land,” murmured Roger, as he held back his steed so as to give his companion a chance to pick his way with care.

“If you went over there you’d probably tumble down several hundred feet,” answered Dave. “And if you did that, you and your horse would most likely be killed. You be careful and keep your horse as close to the cliff as possible.”

At one point in the trail where it would have been utterly impossible to pass another person, the young civil engineers stopped to give a long, loud whistle, to announce to any one coming in the opposite direction that they were approaching. No whistle or call came in return, so they took it for granted that the trail was clear and proceeded again on their way.

By the time the vicinity of the cliff had been left behind, more than three quarters of the sky was overcast. Far off in the distance they could hear a murmur which gradually increased.

“It’s the wind coming up between the mountains,” announced Dave. And he was right. Soon the murmur had increased to a strange humming, and then, in a moment more, the wind came rushing down upon them with a violence that was anything but comfortable.

“Come on! Don’t linger here!” shouted Dave, as he urged his horse forward. “We’ll soon be out on the regular road.”

A quarter of a mile farther brought them to another turn in the trail, and in a minute more they went down a long slope and then came out on a broad trail running to a number of mines and ranches in that part of Montana. Here for over a mile riding was much easier, and the chums made good progress in the direction of the construction camp at which they were making their headquarters.

“Do you think we can make it before the rain comes?” questioned Roger, as they dashed along.

“No such luck. Here comes the rain now,” answered Dave.

As he spoke, both of the young civil engineers felt the first drops of the on-coming storm. Then the rain became a steady downpour which threatened every minute to turn into a deluge.

Fortunately for the two young men, they were not hampered by any of their civil-engineering outfit. They had been asked that morning by Mr. Ralph Obray, the manager of the construction gang, to ride up the trail and make sure that certain marks had been left there by the surveyors for the railroad. The work done by the railroad had been merely of a preliminary nature, but this preliminary work, crude as it was, was to be used as a basis for the more accurate survey by the engineers of the construction company.

“I don’t think we can make camp in such a downpour as this,” gasped Roger, after another half-mile had been covered.

“Maybe you’re right,” responded Dave. “It certainly is coming down to beat the band! But what are we going to do? I don’t believe in standing still and getting ourselves drenched to the skin.”

“We ought to be able to find some sort of shelter near by. Come on, let us take a look around.”

Both did this, sheltering their eyes from the rain with their hands. In such a downpour the scenery on all sides was practically obliterated.

“Can’t make out a thing,” remarked Roger in disgust. “I suppose we’ve got to go on and take what comes. By the time we reach camp we’ll feel like a couple of drowned rats.”

“Never mind. We’ll have a chance to change our clothing, anyway,” responded Dave lightly. “And we won’t have to take a bath or get under the shower.”

“Take a bath or get under the shower!” repeated Roger. “Wow! If I had a chance to do that I wouldn’t know myself,” he added with a grin. For neither of the chums had seen anything like a bathtub or a shower for several months. When they took a bath it was usually in a small stream that flowed not far from where the construction camp was located.

Forward the young civil engineers went once again, the rain beating furiously in their faces as they proceeded. The downpour was so severe that presently they came to where a hollow on the road was completely filled with muddy water.

“Stop, or you may get stuck!” cried Dave, as he brought his horse to a halt. “I think we had better try to go around this pool.”

“Come on this way,” returned his chum quickly, and turned off to the left.

And right here it was that the two young civil engineers made a big mistake. Had they turned to the right they would soon have come out on the road at a point where it would have been perfectly safe to proceed. But the turn to the left led them downward, and almost before they knew it they found themselves between the rocks and on the edge of a thick woods.

“Hello! where have we landed now?” queried Dave. “I don’t believe we can get back to the road from here.”

“Oh, come on, let us skirt the woods,” urged Roger. “We are bound to get back to the road sooner or later.”

Somewhat against his better judgment, Dave allowed his chum to take the lead, and on they went through the rain and increasing darkness. The first rush of wind had now somewhat subsided, but in its place they could hear the low rumble of distant thunder. Then a sudden flash of lightning lit the scene.

“Say, I don’t like this!” cried Roger, as the thunder became louder and several more flashes of lightning flared over the surroundings.

“Watch for the next flash, Roger, and maybe you can see the road,” suggested Dave.

Both young civil engineers did as had been suggested, but, though they waited not only for the next flash of light but also for the two following, they were unable to see more than the rocks and trees in their immediate vicinity.

“I’m afraid we’re lost down here,” said Dave at last. “And if that’s the case, the only thing we can do is to ride back to where we came from.”

“Oh, let us go ahead a little farther. Maybe the road is at the edge of the woods yonder.”

“If we only knew of some miner’s camp or some ranch-house around here, we might get shelter, Roger. I don’t much like the idea of riding in such a storm as this is getting to be.”

“True for you! But I don’t think there is any kind of shelter such as you mention within a mile or two of this place. I didn’t see anything that looked like a house or a cabin when we came up the trail.”

Once more Roger went ahead, and with increased unwillingness Dave followed him, all the while thinking that it would be better to retrace their steps to the point where they had found the roadway covered with water.

“We might have skirted that pool somehow,” thought Dave. “Now we don’t know where we’ll land.”

The two riders found a slight rise ahead of them, and this encouraged Roger into believing that the roadway was not far distant. Less than a hundred yards further on, however, they came to a sudden halt.

“Well, I’ll be blessed!”

“I think we’ll have to turn back now, Roger.”

“I suppose so. Isn’t it too bad?”

Without warning of any kind they had suddenly come to a spot where the jagged rocks arose in front of them several feet higher than their horses’ heads. Off to the left flowed a swift mountain torrent, bordered on one side by a low, irregular cliff and on the other by the jagged rocks and the tall forest. The rain was now coming down as steadily as ever, while the thunder and lightning constantly increased in violence. The sky was entirely overcast, so that when there was no lightning it was almost totally dark at the edge of the forest.

“Maybe if we could get across that stream we might climb up to the roadway,” suggested Roger, who hated to think of going back. “Anyway, let us take a good look the next time it lightens.”

Roger had scarcely spoken when there came a tremendous crash of thunder so close at hand that it made both of the young civil engineers start. The horses too were badly frightened, and both gave wild plunges one into the other. As a consequence, a moment later Dave found himself unseated and thrown to the ground, and an instant later Roger landed almost on top of him.

“Hi! Stop the horses!” gasped Dave, when he could speak.

To this Roger made no response for the reason that he had come down on the rocks with such force that he was all but stunned. Dave attempted to struggle to his feet and catch the plunging animals, but before he could do so the two horses had bolted away in the semi-darkness, leaving their former riders to their fate.

CHAPTER II
SOMETHING ABOUT THE PAST

“We’re in a pickle now, and no mistake!” panted Roger.

“Let us try to catch the horses before they get too far away,” came from Dave. “We don’t want the fun of tramping back to camp on foot.”

“Not to say anything about losing two valuable animals.”

“I hope you didn’t break any bones,” continued Dave, as he saw his chum feeling of his knee and his elbow.

“Oh, I guess I didn’t get anything more than a good shaking up. And you didn’t escape entirely, either. See, your hand is bleeding.”

“Oh, it’s only a scrape. Come on;” and thus speaking Dave ran off in the direction the runaway horses had taken, and his chum followed.

To my old readers Dave Porter will need no special introduction. For the benefit of others, however, let me state that when a small boy he had been found wandering alongside the railroad tracks in Crumville. As nobody claimed him he had been put in the local poorhouse, and, later on, bound out to a broken-down college professor, Caspar Potts, who at that time was farming for his health.

In an elegant mansion on the outskirts of Crumville, lived Mr. Oliver Wadsworth, a wealthy jewelry manufacturer, with his wife and his daughter Jessie. One day the gasoline tank of an automobile took fire, and Jessie was in danger of being burned to death when Dave came to her rescue. As a consequence of this Mr. Wadsworth became interested in the boy, and decided that he should be given the benefits of a good education and had sent him to a first-class boarding school, as related in the first volume of this series, entitled “Dave Porter at Oak Hall.” With Dave went Ben Basswood, his one boy friend in the town.

At Oak Hall Dave made a number of close friends, including Roger Morr, the son of a well-known United States Senator; Phil Lawrence, the offspring of a rich ship-owner; “Shadow” Hamilton, who loved to tell stories; and Buster Beggs, who was as fat as he was jolly.

In those days the principal thing that troubled Dave was the question of his parentage. To solve the mystery of his identity he took a long sea voyage, as related in “Dave Porter in the South Seas,” where he met his uncle, Dunston Porter, and learned much concerning his father, David Breslow Porter, and also his sister Laura, who were at that time traveling in Europe.

On his return to school, and during the time that our hero spent in trying to locate his father and his sister, as related in succeeding volumes of this series, Dave made many new friends. But there were some lads who were jealous of the boy’s success, and two of them, Nick Jasniff and Link Merwell, did what they could to get our hero into trouble. The plot against Dave, however, was exposed, and in sheer fright Nick Jasniff ran away and went to Europe while Merwell went out West to a ranch owned by his father.

Dave’s sister Laura had an intimate friend, Belle Endicott, who lived on Star Ranch in Montana, and through this friendship all of the boys and girls were invited out to the ranch. There, to his surprise, Dave fell in once more with Link Merwell and finally exposed that young rascal so that Link thought it would be to his advantage to disappear.

“You’ll have to keep your eyes open for those wretches,” was Roger’s comment at the time.

“They’ll get the better of you if they possibly can, Dave,” Phil Lawrence had added.

“I’ll watch them,” the youth had answered.

When the Christmas holidays arrived Dave went back to Crumville, where he and his folks resided with the Wadsworths. Directly after Christmas came a startling robbery of the Wadsworth jewelry works, and Dave and his chums by some clever work discovered that the crime had been committed by Merwell and Jasniff. After a sea voyage to Cave Island, Jasniff was captured and sent to jail, but Merwell at the last minute managed to make his escape.

The trip to Cave Island was followed by another to the great West, where Dave aided Roger Morr in locating a gold mine which had been lost through a landslide.

After this our hero went up to Bear Camp in the Adirondack Mountains, where he had a glorious time with all of his chums and also the girls. At that time Dave fell in with a young man named Ward Porton, who was almost our hero’s double in appearance. Porton proved to be an unscrupulous person, and caused our hero not a little trouble, he trying at one time to palm himself off as the real Dave Porter. This scheme, however, was exposed, and then Porton lost no time in disappearing.

Our hero had now graduated from Oak Hall, and he and Roger Morr had taken up the profession of civil engineering. In the midst of his studies Dave was startled by the news of the disappearance of some valuable miniatures which had been willed to his old friends, the Basswoods. It was discovered that Ward Porton was in this plot, and later on this evildoer, along with his disreputable father, was brought to justice.

As soon as their first examination in civil engineering had been passed, Dave and Roger had succeeded in obtaining through their instructor positions with the Mentor Construction Company, a large concern operating many branches throughout the United States and in foreign countries. They were assigned to a gang operating in Texas, building a railroad bridge near the Rio Grande. This construction camp was under the general management of Mr. Ralph Obray, assisted by a number of others, including a middle-aged man named Frank Andrews, who had speedily become a warm friend of the young civil engineers.

The work had proved absorbing from the start to Dave, and it must be said that the senator’s son was almost equally interested. Both kept up their studies every day and kept their eyes and ears wide open, and consequently made rapid progress. On more than one occasion Mr. Obray had given them encouraging words and shown his satisfaction, and Frank Andrews was enthusiastic.

“You fellows keep on the way you have started, and some day you’ll be at the top of the ladder,” was the way Andrews expressed himself.

The two young civil engineers had remained at work on the Catalco Bridge for nearly a year. Then the task had been turned over to another gang, and the Obray outfit, as it was commonly called, had been sent up from Texas into Montana, to take up the work of roadbed and bridge construction for the M. C. & D. Railroad.

This railroad was simply a feeder of one of the main lines, yet it was thought that in time it would become a highly important branch. The work to be undertaken was unusually difficult, and it was an open secret that several construction companies had refused even to give figures on it.

“We’ve got our work cut out for us up here,” had been Frank Andrews’ remark to Mr. Obray, after the pair had gone over the situation carefully.

“Right you are, Andrews,” the manager of the construction gang had answered. “It looks all right on paper, but we are going to have a good many difficulties which can’t be put down in black and white.”

“What we’ve got to guard against, to my way of thinking, is landslides,” the assistant had answered.

Since beginning work for the Mentor Construction Company, Dave and Roger had had two opportunities for returning to the East. They had come by the way of Washington, where Senator Morr and his wife were now residing, and had also stopped off at Philadelphia to visit Phil Lawrence. Then they had made their way to Crumville, there to put in a most delightful time with Dave’s folks and the Wadsworths. As my old readers are aware, to Dave there was no girl in the world quite so sweet and lovable as Jessie Wadsworth, while it was noticed that Roger and Dave’s sister Laura were together whenever occasion permitted.

The two young civil engineers had been in Montana now for about three weeks, and during that time they had gone on numerous errands to places ten and even twenty miles away. On arrival they had hoped to visit Star Ranch, but had learned that this place was nearly a hundred miles off. They had looked at some of the local mines with much interest, and had likewise visited several ranches.

“We’ll get to know this whole district like a book before we get through with it,” had been Roger’s comment.

“Maybe,” Dave had answered. “Just the same, if I were you I wouldn’t go too far away from the regular trails without a pocket compass. Getting lost among these mountains might prove very serious.”

The two young civil engineers had started off on their errand that morning in high spirits, due not alone to the fact that both were feeling in the best of health and were doing well in their chosen profession, but also to the fact that the day before they had received a number of letters from home, including a warm epistle to Dave from Jessie and an equally tender missive from Laura to Roger.

At their end the two girls had written each in the confidence of the other, so that the two chums did not hesitate to talk over the contents of both letters between them.

“Oh, we’ve got the brightest prospects in the world before us!” Dave had cried when they had set out, and in the exuberance of his spirits he had thrown his cap high up in the air.

But the prospect at this particular minute did not seem to be so bright. The rain was coming down steadily, accompanied by sharp crashes of thunder and vivid flashes of lightning, and the two youths had all they could do to keep their feet as they sped along in the direction the runaway horses had taken.

“This is the worst ever!” groaned Roger, as both presently came to a halt with the rocks on one side of them and the forest on the other. “I can’t see anything of those horses, can you?”

Dave did not for the moment reply. He was waiting for the next flash of lightning, and when it came he strained his eyes in an effort to locate the vanished steeds. The effort, however, was a vain one.

“They’re gone, that’s sure,” he announced gloomily. “If the storm didn’t make so much noise we might be able to hear them clattering over the rocks; but between the wind and the thunder that’s impossible.”

“They had to come this way, for it’s the only way. Let us go on a little farther.”

As there was nothing else to do, Dave followed his chum along the edge of the forest and at last the pair reached the spot where they had left the road. Here the pool of water had become much larger and deeper.

“We don’t seem to be getting anywhere,” grumbled the senator’s son, as they came again to a halt. “Just look at this! It’s a miniature lake!”

“We’ll have to get around it somehow, Roger,” was the reply. “Let us try the other side this time.”

“But what about the horses?”

“If they came up here on the roadway I’ve an idea they started straight for camp. They wouldn’t know where else to go.”

Not caring to stand still in such a downpour, the two started to skirt the pond, going in the opposite direction to that which they had before taken. They had to clamber over a number of rough rocks and through some brushwood heavily laden with water, so that by the time they reached the other side they were as wet as if they had taken an involuntary bath.

“Well, there’s one consolation,” announced Roger grimly. “We couldn’t get any wetter if we tried.”

“Come on. Let us leg it for camp as fast as we can,” returned Dave. “It’s pretty cold out here, drenched like this.”

“Wait a minute! I think I saw something!” cried the senator’s son suddenly. “Look!”

He pointed off to one side of the roadway, and both waited until another flash of lightning lit up the scene.

“The horses!”

They were right. There, not over a hundred yards away, stood the two runaway steeds, partly sheltered by several big trees. Their heads had been down, but now they suddenly came up as if in fresh alarm.

“Do you think we can catch them, Dave?” gasped the senator’s son.

“We’ve got to do it, Roger,” was the reply. “But be careful, or they’ll get away as sure as fate. Here, you approach them from the right and I’ll go around to the left. And don’t let them get past you, no matter what happens.”

CHAPTER III
A SURPRISE OF THE ROAD

Fortunately for the two chums, the flash of lightning which had revealed the two horses to them was followed by something of a lull in the storm and this served to keep the steeds from stampeding again.

“Be careful, Roger,” cautioned Dave, as they separated to do as our hero had advised.

“Do you want me to take my own horse or the one which happens to be nearest to me?” questioned the senator’s son.

“Take the nearest, by all means—and be sure to hold on tight!”

In the darkness, and with the rain still coming down steadily, the two approached closer and closer to the horses. One animal gave a low snort, but whether of fear or recognition of his master could not be ascertained.

“I guess we’ve got them, all right enough,” sang out Roger, as he made a dash to cover the dozen feet that separated him from the nearest steed.

Dave was a few steps farther away from the other horse. At that instant came another clap of thunder, followed almost instantly by the lightning. Then came a crash in the forest, showing that a tree close by had been struck.

The nervous horses wheeled around and reared up. Then one started in one direction and the other in another.

“Grab him, Roger! Don’t let him get away!” yelled Dave, and made a wild leap for the animal nearest him. He caught the loose rein, and an instant later had a firm hold on the steed. The horse did considerable prancing, but the youth, who some seasons before had tamed a bronco at Star Ranch, was not daunted. He brought the animal to a standstill, and then, seeing that it was his own mount, leaped lightly into the saddle.

“Now behave yourself, old boy,” he said soothingly, patting the animal on the neck. “You’re all right. Take it easy.”

In the meanwhile, Roger was having an exciting experience with his own horse. The animal had tried to back away from him, and had gotten a hind leg fast between two trees. Now he began to kick out wildly, hitting one of the trees several resounding blows.

“Whoa there! Whoa!” cried the senator’s son; but his horse continued to kick out until, with a wrench, he got the other foot free. Then he began to prance around once more, showing every evidence of wanting to run away.

“Wait! I’ll hold him while you get into the saddle!” cried Dave, riding up. And then he placed himself directly in front of Roger’s mount.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the senator’s son made a leap and got safely into the saddle; and then the two runaway horses settled down to behaving themselves decently.

“This was luck, all right,” remarked Dave, when the brief excitement was over.

“Right you are,” was the ready reply. “I didn’t fancy walking back to the camp.”

“Nor losing two such valuable horses,” added our hero. “If they had failed to return perhaps Mr. Obray would have made us pay for them, and that would make a big hole in our salaries.”

Making sure that the horses should not get away from them again, the two young civil engineers rode back to the road, and then with caution picked their way along on the right-hand side of some ever-increasing ponds of water. This was slow and dangerous work, the horses slipping and sliding among the wet rocks and loose stones, and more than once getting into mud and water up to their knees. But at last that peril was left behind, and once again the youths found themselves on comparatively solid ground and headed in the direction of the construction camp.

“We’ll sure have a story to tell when we get back,” remarked Roger, as they rode along side by side.

“Yes. But we’ll want to change our togs before we start to tell it,” returned Dave grimly. “I feel as if I had jumped overboard with all my clothing on.”

“It looks to me as if the storm was passing away,” continued the senator’s son, gazing up at the sky.

“Oh, more than likely it will stop raining as soon as we get back, Roger. It would be just our luck.”

It was true that the storm was passing, and they were still some distance from the construction camp when the rain practically ceased. A portion of the clouds rolled away, making the sky much clearer.

“I’ll bet the sun comes out as brightly as ever before it sets,” ventured Roger. “Hang it all! why couldn’t we have found some shelter during this awful downpour? Then we wouldn’t have got wet to the skin.”

“Never mind, Roger. There is no use in crying over spilt milk. Don’t forget how thankful we are that we got our horses back.”

The chums were still out of sight of the construction camp when they heard a clatter of hoofs on the stony roadway ahead of them. In a minute more a figure, clad in a semi-cowboy outfit, came galloping toward them.

“Hello! who can that be?” cried Roger.

“Maybe it’s one of our men coming out to look for us,” answered Dave. “Perhaps Mr. Obray or Frank Andrews got worried when it began to blow so and lighten so hard.”

The two young civil engineers slackened their pace, expecting that the newcomer would halt as soon as he saw them. They drew up to one side of the road, and were somewhat surprised to see the person on horseback go by without paying any attention to them. He was a fellow about their own age and had his head bent down over his horse’s neck as if he was in deep thought.

Both of the young civil engineers stared at the rider as if he were a ghost. Neither of them said a word, but they both looked after the passer-by as if they could not believe the evidence of their senses.

“Dave, did you see him?” came at last in an excited tone from Roger.

“I certainly did, Roger!”

“It was Nick Jasniff!”

“So it was!”

“But how in the world did he get here?”

“I don’t know. I thought he was in prison!”

“So he was—we saw him sentenced ourselves, after we caught him on Cave Island.”

“And his sentence can’t be up yet. The time is too short.”

“Maybe he broke jail or got out sooner on account of good behavior. You know they give prisoners some time off if they behave themselves well.”

“You don’t think we could be mistaken?”

“I don’t think so. If that fellow was not Nick Jasniff, it was his double.”

“Oh, don’t say anything about doubles!” cried Dave quickly. “I had all I want of that sort of thing with Ward Porton. I’m quite sure that fellow was Nick Jasniff himself. He had that same hang-dog, slouching way about him he had when he went to Oak Hall.”

“But what can he be doing out here in Montana?”

“I don’t know,—unless he may have thought that some of the Merwells were still out here. He, of course, must know about Mr. Merwell disposing of the Three X Ranch.”

“You don’t suppose he came out here to see us, do you?”

“To see us? Not on your life! Why should he want to see us? He knows well enough that we have no use for him.”

“But maybe he wants to get square with us. You know he threatened us in all sorts of ways after we had him arrested. And you know what an awful wicked fellow he is, Dave. Didn’t he try once in the Oak Hall gym to brain you with an Indian club?”

“Yes; I remember that only too well, Roger. Just the same, I don’t think a fellow like Jasniff would come away out here to square accounts with us. It’s more likely he came out here to get away from the people who know him. Maybe he thought he could start life over again in a place like this, where nobody knew him.”

“Humph! possibly you’re right. But if that’s the case, I don’t want him to come around where I am. I have no use for a jailbird,” grumbled the senator’s son.

The youths had resumed their journey, and a few minutes later they came into sight of the construction camp. This consisted of a rudely-built office, backed up by a score or more of smaller buildings used as bunk-houses. At the end of a row was a large, low building in which was located the kitchen and also the mess hall, or “Palace of Eats,” as some of the engineers had christened it. Still further away was a small shed for horses, with a corral attached.

“Hello! I was wondering what had become of you two chaps,” cried Frank Andrews, as they rode up to the building wherein they and the assistant and some others had their quarters. “Some let-down you got caught in.”

“I should say so!” cried Roger. “We came within an ace of being drowned.”

“Be thankful that you weren’t struck by lightning,” returned the older engineer, with a twinkle in his eyes. “I suppose you’ll want to get some dry duds on before you make any report about those marks.”

“The marks are all there, just as Mr. Obray expected they would be,” answered Dave. “I’ve got a list of them here in my notebook.”

“By the way, Mr. Andrews, was there a stranger here a little while ago—a fellow about our age?” questioned Roger.

“There was somebody here. I don’t know who it was,” answered the assistant. “He was over at the main office, talking to Mr. Obray.”

“And you don’t know who he was?”

“No.” Frank Andrews gazed at the two chums questioningly. “Anything wrong about him?”

“That is what we want to find out,” answered the senator’s son. “We thought we knew him; and if so he isn’t the kind of fellow that any one would want around here.”

“Why, how is that?” questioned Frank Andrews. And thereupon, in a few brief words, Roger and Dave told about Nick Jasniff and his doings.

“You’re right! We don’t want any jailbirds around this camp!” cried the assistant. “When you go up to the office you had better tell Mr. Obray about this.”

Dave and Roger were glad enough to get under shelter. They lost no time in taking a good rub-down and in changing their apparel. Then they hurried over to the office of the construction camp, where they found the manager and several of his assistants going over various papers and blue-prints.

“Got back, eh?” said Mr. Obray, with a smile. “You certainly didn’t have a very nice day for the trip.”

“Oh, well, it’s all in the day’s work, Mr. Obray,” answered Dave lightly.

“And we had one advantage coming back,” put in Roger. “We didn’t suffer the least bit from dust;” and at this sally a smile lit up the features of all present. They liked Dave and Roger very much, and the fact that Dave’s chum was the son of a United States Senator added something to the importance of both of the young men.

Getting out his notebook, Dave lost no time in turning in his report, which was supplemented by what Roger had to say. Then the two young civil engineers were asked a number of questions, to which they replied as clearly as possible.

“I guess that’s about all,” said Mr. Obray finally. “I think that makes it pretty clear. Don’t you, Mr. Chase?” he continued, turning to one of the other men present.

“I think so,” answered Mr. Chase. “But we’ll still have to make an investigation up there at Number Six. I’m not satisfied about the formation of that rock. I think we’re due for a lot of trouble.”

“Well, we’ll meet it as it comes—there is no use in anticipating it,” answered Ralph Obray briefly.

He was a man who was never daunted, no matter how great the obstacles that confronted him. It was his clear-headedness that had won more than one engineering victory for the Mentor Construction Company when all the other engineers had given up a task as impossible.

“Mr. Obray, we would like to ask you a few questions in private if you don’t mind,” said Dave in a low voice, when he saw the other civil engineers turn away to consult a map that hung on one of the office walls.

“All right, Porter. Come right in here,” answered the manager, and led the way to a corner, where he had a small private office.

“I wish to ask you about a fellow we met on the road just before we got back to camp about half an hour ago,” explained our hero. “He was a fellow about our own age. He was on horseback, and I thought he might have been here.”

“There was a fellow here, and he left less than an hour ago,” answered the manager. “I should think he was about your age, or maybe a year or two older.”

“Was he a tall, lanky sort of fellow with a rather slouchy air about him?” questioned Roger.

“Yes, that description would fit him pretty well.”

“And did he have a squint in one eye?” questioned Dave suddenly, remembering a peculiarity about Nick Jasniff which he had almost forgotten.

“Yes, there certainly was something the matter with one of his eyes. The upper lid seemed to droop considerably.”

“Might I ask what that fellow was doing here?”

“He came here looking for a job. He said he was working on one of the ranches in this vicinity but that he preferred to work for us and learn civil engineering if we would give him a chance. I told him we were pretty well filled up as far as our engineering corps was concerned, but said he might call some other time. You see, Barry and Lundstrom are thinking of leaving, and if they do we might have a chance for one or two outsiders, provided they were of the right sort.”

“Well, if this fellow is the person we think he is, he isn’t any one you would care to have around here, Mr. Obray,” cried Roger.

“And why not?” demanded the manager of the construction camp.

“Because if he is the fellow we think he is, he is a thief and a jailbird!”

CHAPTER IV
WHAT PHIL’S LETTER TOLD

Mr. Ralph Obray was much surprised at the statement made by Roger, and his face showed it.

“That is a pretty strong statement to make against anybody,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you had better explain.”

“I can do that easily enough,” returned the senator’s son. “And Dave here can tell you even more than I can.”

“By the way,” broke in Dave, “may I ask if the fellow left any name?”

“Oh, yes.” The manager of the construction camp glanced at a slip of paper lying on his desk. “Jasper Nicholas.”

“Jasper Nicholas!” cried Roger. “What do you know about that?”

“It sounds a good deal like Nicholas Jasniff turned around,” answered our hero. He looked at the manager. “The fellow we have in mind was named Nicholas Jasniff,” he explained.

“Tell me what you know about the fellow,” returned Mr. Obray shortly.

Thereupon the two chums related how they had been schoolmates with Nick Jasniff and Link Merwell at Oak Hall and how Jasniff had one day attacked Dave in the gymnasium with an Indian club and how the fellow had run away. Then they told of the robbery of the Wadsworth jewelry works, and of how Jasniff and Merwell had been followed to Cave Island and captured.

“At the last minute Merwell got away,” continued Dave, “but the authorities hung on to Jasniff and he was tried and sent to prison for a long term of years. How he got out I don’t know.”

“That is certainly an interesting story,” said Mr. Obray. “But if that fellow Jasniff is in prison he can’t be the fellow that called here.”

“But look at the similarity in names!” broke in Roger. “Oh, I am sure he is the same fellow.”

“If he is, we won’t want him around here even if he has a right to his liberty,” declared the manager. “Our men are all honest—or at least we think they are—and we can not take chances with a man who has been convicted of a crime. Of course, such a fellow has a right to do his best to get along in the world; but he had better go to some place where nobody knows him.”

“Don’t you think we had better try to find out whether Jasniff has really served his full term and been properly discharged from prison?” remarked Dave. “If he is a fugitive we ought to capture him and send him back to the authorities.”

“You are right there, Porter. It might be a good idea for you to send a message to the East to find out about this.”

“Where do you think I ought to send for information?”

“Do you know where he was placed in prison?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then I would send directly to the prison authorities.”

“Let us send a telegram!” cried Roger. “A letter would be too slow. I’ll stand half the expense.”

“All right, I’ll go you!” responded our hero quickly. “If Nick Jasniff got out of prison on the sly, he ought to be returned to the place.”

“Maybe if he did get out, and we captured him, we might get a reward, Dave.”

“That is true, too—provided a reward has been offered.”

“You seem to be pretty sure that this fellow who called here is the man you are after,” remarked Mr. Obray. “Don’t you think you may be mistaken? In that storm, and with the fellow galloping past you on horseback all hunched up to keep from getting wet, you may have made a mistake.”

At this remark the face of the senator’s son became clouded.

“It might be so, Dave. To tell the truth, we didn’t get a very good look at him. And yet I think it was Nick Jasniff.”

“I’m almost certain of it, Roger. I’ll never forget that face of his. I studied it pretty well when he was up for trial and we testified against him.”

“You might wait until he comes here again,” suggested the manager.

“Yes. But then we wouldn’t have the information we want,” declared Dave. “I’d rather pay out my money on that telegram and learn the truth. Then, if Jasniff was wanted by the authorities, we could make a prisoner of him right then and there.”

“That is true.”

The matter was discussed for several minutes longer, and then the two chums walked back to their quarters. Here they talked the matter over between themselves.

“We can’t send a telegram to-night; the office closes at six o’clock,” declared Dave. “We can write it out, however, and send it the first chance we get in the morning. I think Mr. Obray will let you or me ride down to the telegraph office with it.” The nearest station from which a telegram could be sent was quite a distance away, and a telephone line between the two points, while it was being erected, was not yet in operation.

Of course Frank Andrews wished to know what had taken place, and the youths told him. He shook his head sadly.

“It’s too bad! Especially with a young fellow,” he declared. “That term in prison will hang over him like a cloud all the rest of his life. Kind-hearted people may talk all they please and do all they possibly can—the fact remains that if a man has once been in prison, unless he can prove that he was innocent, very few people will care to have anything to do with him.”

“If Jasniff were a different kind of fellow I’d have a different feeling for him,” said Dave; and his face showed his earnestness. “If he had been led into crime by others it would be a different story. But so far as I can remember, he was always hot-tempered, vicious, and bound to have his own way. He was the leader in that robbery—not Merwell. And when he was captured he acted in anything but a penitent mood. On that account I can’t get up much sympathy for him.”

“He doesn’t deserve any sympathy!” cried Roger. “Why, every time I think of how he grabbed up that Indian club in the Oak Hall gymnasium and did his best to brain you with it, it makes my blood run cold!”

“He certainly must have been a pretty wicked boy to attempt anything like that,” was Frank Andrews’ comment. “It’s bad enough for schoolboys to fight with their fists; but that at least is a fair way to do.”

The two chums were tired out from their strenuous adventures of the day, and were glad to retire early. During the night the storm cleared away entirely, and in the morning the sun shown as brightly as ever.

“If you don’t mind, Dave, I’ll take that telegram down to the office,” said Roger, while the pair were dressing. “I’m expecting a box that father said he was sending, and I can ask for that at the same time.”

“All right, Roger. But you had better wait until the mail gets in. There may be some other message we’ll want to send.”

The mail was brought in while the youths were at breakfast, and was distributed immediately after that repast was over.

“Hello, here’s a letter from Phil!” cried our hero, as he noticed the postmark “Philadelphia.”

“I’ve got the box from dad,” returned the senator’s son, “so I won’t have to ask about that at the express office.”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Dave, who had ripped the letter open and was scanning its contents. “Phil is coming out here to pay a visit to Star Ranch; and he says he may bring Shadow Hamilton with him. Isn’t that the best ever?”

“So it is, Dave! But it’s no more than I expected—at least so far as Phil is concerned. I knew he couldn’t remain away from Belle Endicott very long,” and the senator’s son winked suggestively.

“Here’s a lot of news about the other fellows, Luke Watson, Polly Vane, and Jim Murphy. Polly has gone into business with an uncle of his, and Jim Murphy has a well-paying position up at Yale.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Polly Vane was one of the finest fellows that ever lived, even if he was somewhat girlish. And as for Jim Murphy—there was never a better monitor around Oak Hall.”

Dave had turned over to the last sheet of the six-page communication Phil Lawrence had sent. Here the letter proper came to an end, but there was a postscript added in lead pencil. This ran as follows:

“You will be interested to know that some time ago Nick Jasniff’s case was brought up before the Board of Pardons by a Committee on Prison Reform. The men and women composing the committee made a strong plea for Jasniff because of his age, and I understand they made a very favorable impression on the Pardon Board. If Jasniff is pardoned, he will be getting out without having served even half of his sentence. I wish I had been there to tell the Board what sort of a fellow he is.”

“Here’s the milk in the cocoanut, Roger!” cried Dave, and read aloud what Phil had written.

“Humph, so that’s the truth of it,” murmured the senator’s son. “More than likely that committee worked on the feelings of the Pardoning Board so that they gave Jasniff his liberty. Well, if that’s the case, there won’t be any need for sending that telegram.”

“You’re right. If he was pardoned, that ends it, and he has as much right to his liberty as we have to ours. Just the same, I think they made a mistake. When he was tried, I am sure the judge, on account of his age, gave him as short a sentence as he deemed best.”

“I’m sure of that too, Dave! Why, one of the lawyers told me that if Jasniff had been ten years older he would have gotten twice as long a sentence.”

“I think I had better go to Mr. Obray with this news,” said Dave. “You can tell Andrews if you want to.”

Our hero found the manager of the construction camp just preparing to go out with several of his assistant engineers. Explaining the situation, Dave allowed Mr. Obray to read the postscript of Phil’s letter.

“Looks as if you were right after all, and the fellow who was here had been pardoned,” was Ralph Obray’s comment. “In that case, you can’t do anything about having him held. Just the same, if he is that sort I won’t want him around.”