“and just to think!” tavia groaned, as the two girls rode slowly down the riverside an hour after sunrise. “we hadn’t any business having an adventure at all.”
“i—don’t—know,” responded dorothy, slowly.
“well, i do! the boys will tease us to death about it. there the ponies were, tied where we left them, just in another opening in the woods, not a hundred yards away from where we spent the night. but when i first heard them whinnying for water at daybreak, i was scared into fits—weren’t you, doro?”
dorothy admitted her fright. tavia’s whole statement was not far from correct. the entire adventure had been preventable. dorothy considered herself seriously to blame.
if she and her chum had marked their path up the steep hillside beyond the spot where the ponies had been abandoned, they would have had no difficulty in finding their mounts again.
so, had they recovered the ponies they could easily have returned to the ranch-house by dark. aunt winnie, dorothy knew, must have been dreadfully worried over their disappearance.
indeed, the whole country round about had been roused, as the girls quickly learned. half a dozen search parties were out after them. while they still followed the course of lost river they heard whooping, and rifle shots, ahead.
“come on!” cried tavia, “they are searching for us.”
both girls hurried their ponies, rounded a turn in the path, and were hailed with delight by ned, nat and half a dozen cowpunchers, who had started into the hills for a second search for the lost girls.
they had ridden over the ranges and lower country all night, searching for the runaways, and after breakfasting at the bunkhouse, had started forth again.
dorothy and tavia were warmly welcomed—and scolded just as warmly by ned and nat, too! when mrs. white had kissed and hugged them, she, too, turned upon them and threatened to take away their ponies if they ever rode more than two miles from the ranch-house again without a guide.
dorothy knew she had no right to complain about this restriction. it had been a reckless201 thing to do—that trip to the mountain-top. and she could not get over the fact that her own oversight had caused her and tavia to remain out in the open all night.
there had been no serious results, however, and in a day or two the escapade was forgotten. the girls had agreed not to tell of their awful fright caused by the bits of mica shining in the rock. if ned and nat had gotten hold of that tale the girls never would have heard the last of it.
it was about this time that dorothy heard from major dale regarding the lincoln letter that john dempsey had found among colonel hardin’s discarded papers. dorothy had told her father the whole story—of philo marsh’s desire to purchase the letter, and all. she had likewise expressed herself as being more than ever antagonistic to the dugonne lawyer.
“don’t fret your pretty head, little captain, about matters that do not concern you,” major dale wrote. “i have confidence in winifred’s good sense, and she will be a match for a man like marsh. as for the old soldier and his famous letter—tell him not to put any great trust in the validity of the letter, and if he can sell it for a good round sum, to do so.”
major dale went on to tell his daughter of a test by which she could assure herself and dempsey as to the actual value of the letter. this202 amazed dorothy, and she ran off to tell the old soldier and to follow her father’s suggestion.
the letter to the massachusetts widow proved to be valid. it really was a very interesting document. after dorothy and john dempsey had talked it over, the old man changed his mind about selling it.
“if that snake in the grass raises his offer to me much higher, i’ll jest natcherly be obleeged to sell,” he said, grimly. “let it be on his own head.”
philo marsh was at the ranch-house almost every day. aunt winnie wondered why some of the other interested parties had not called to get her views upon the water-rights question; but not a person from the farming land to the south or from desert city, came to the hardin ranch.
“it must be,” she told the boys and dorothy, “that these desert people have left the whole matter—as he says—in mr. marsh’s hands. i would have felt better about it had i talked with others—to make sure that this agreement philo marsh offers suits all hands. i believe i shall sign the preliminary papers the next time mr. marsh calls.”
“i guess it’s all right, mother,” said big ned, carelessly. “and the fellow is getting to be a nuisance hanging about here.”
dorothy was tempted to tell her aunt of the conversation she had overheard between marsh and the foreman, hank ledger, despite the fact that the conference seemed to have led to nothing. the foreman was a good sort, and dorothy liked mrs. ledger, so the girl did not wish to make her aunt suspicious of hank.
she understood that this preliminary agreement between her aunt and those who desired water from lost river, was not a binding document. aunt winnie said the lawyers in dugonne would look after the estate’s interest before the matter was concluded, and make everything legal and shipshape.
naturally, even dorothy—with all her suspicion of philo marsh—did not pay much attention to the business of the water-rights, only when the subject was brought up in family conclave. the young folk were having too good a time to think of much but their own pleasure—the boys in their way, and the girls in theirs.
old mrs. petterby had caught ophelia and now was anxious to go back to the nicholson place, where she was to meet lance again. she was to drive over in a buckboard, one of the mexican hands being employed as driver, and of course there were two empty seats.
“let’s go with her—you and i, doro,” proposed tavia, eagerly.
dorothy suspected that her chum was just roguish enough to want to plague lance petterby, and she tried to veto the proposal.
“all right for you, then!” said tavia, coolly. “if you won’t go with me, i’ll go anyway.”
that settled it. dorothy did not want tavia to go without her. so they drove away in the buckboard with the old lady from rand’s falls, massachusetts.
it was a jolly ride, for mrs. petterby was good fun and both the girls were fond of her. when they arrived at the squatter’s double cabin, sure enough, there was lance and his pony, gaby.
“sartain shore am glad tuh see yuh!” was the cowboy’s welcome, smiling broadly upon the girls. but it was plain to dorothy that his bold eyes lingered longer upon tavia’s brilliant face.
tavia was at her best—sprightly, talkative, laughing—behaving indeed in a most bewildering fashion. a much more sophisticated fellow than lance petterby might have had his head turned over tavia travers on that particular day.
dorothy knew very well that it was only tavia’s fun, but the cowboy did not know. even old mrs. petterby said:
“i declare for’t! i never did see sech a gal for runnin’ on as you do. can’t tell when ye air funnin’ an’ when ye air in earnest.”
lance had something to say to dorothy in private.
“yuh axed me about philo marsh last time i seen yuh, miss dale. has yuh aunt signed up for them water-rights yet?”
“no. but she is about to.”
“tell her to wait a bit longer. i got a line on something queer.”
“oh, mr. lance! what is it? about philo marsh?”
“yes, ma’am. you say he’s workin’ for the desert city folks?”
“why—yes. he must be.”
“then he’s got two strings to his bow. i got a straight tip that he’s employed by the consolidated ackron company.”
“the mining company?”
“yes, ma’am.”
“but what is he doing for them?”
“why, they tell me he’s been in their pay for a long time. does their dirty work, miss dale. meanin’ that he settles damage cases out o’ court. man gits hurt in the shaft, or somehow. before he kin git fixed up by the doctor, ’round comes philo and offers to pay bills and give the man a small sum. otherwise man loses his job—you see? if the poor feller’s killed, philo settles with the widder.”
“i understand,” said dorothy. “but that would not keep him from taking cases for other people?”
“no, ma’am. but philo wouldn’t be likely to take a job that might queer him with the mining company. and them folks want the water jest as bad as they want it out in the desert.”
“but how could they get it?” cried dorothy, in wonder. “that gorge by which lost river can be drained off, runs to the edge of the desert. it doesn’t slope north at all.”
“that’s shore an’ sartain, miss,” declared lance. “but thet thar ain’t the only way lost river kin be turned—don’t think it!”
suddenly the thought of the surveyors she and tavia had seen, flashed into dorothy’s mind.
eagerly the girl told the cowpuncher of what she and tavia had observed behind the green mountain. he listened closely and nodded at the end.
“shore as you air a foot high, them surveyors was runnin’ a line to lost river for the mining corporation. once they git the water—— well! good-night! they’ve got plenty of money to fight you folks in the courts. possession, in this case, i reckon, would be nine p’ints of the law.
“now, tell your a’nt tuh go slow. don’t let her sign a paper that philo brings her. there’ll be some quirk about it that’ll tie her hands. or else, he is seeking to delay matters until the mining folks can put in dynamite and blow out a channel for the river.”
