it was about eleven o’clock, and one hour past their usual time for hunting their bunks, when clancy and ballard pushed away from their checkerboard.
“an even thing, red,” said ballard, with a good deal of satisfaction, “and that’s the way i like to quit.”
“you’ve kept me up for an hour longer than usual, pink,” yawned clancy, “just to saw off even. if i hadn’t given you the last three games, we wouldn’t have got to bed to-night.”
“i’ve got a picture of you giving anybody a game,” jeered ballard. “you played for all there was in it, and i merely demonstrated the fact that i’m as good as you are.”
“oh, well,” murmured the red-headed youth, “if it pleases you to think that, i’m agreeable. wonder where chip is?”
“in bed, of course, just where i’m going to be in a brace of shakes. come on.”
they hustled upstairs, and clancy stepped into the room jointly occupied by himself and merry. a call from clancy brought ballard on the jump.
“what do you think?” asked clancy. “chip, isn’t here. where the nation do you suppose he is?”
“ask me an easier one,” answered ballard. “it isn’t like him to skip out without telling us what he’s up to.”
clancy had an idea.
“i’ll bet a plugged nickel against a chink wash ticket,” said he, “that chip’s absence has something to do with lenning.”
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“what has it to do with lenning?”
“i’ve dug up that much, pink, and it’s up to you to think out the rest. i’ve started something, now you finish it.”
“if i tried to finish everything you started,” snorted ballard, “i’d have my hands full. but i guess i can fill in the gaps of this particular proposition, all right.”
“well, what’s the answer?”
“chip has gone out to the mine to bolster up lenning’s good resolutions. that would be like him, wouldn’t it? just remember, please, that we interrupted a confab chip and lenning were having when we came in from the gulch. more than likely chip has gone to the cyanide plant to wind up that conversation.”
“you’ve hit it, old man,” beamed clancy. “i know as much as anybody, if i could only think of it, but that gilt-edged theory certainly got past me. look here, pink. suppose we take a stroll out toward the mine, meet chip, and escort him back to the hotel?”
“you’re on! but if chip doesn’t happen to be at the mine——”
“well, if we don’t find him, we’ll have a nice little walk. and it’s a fine old night for a walk, pink.”
“if i’d known you’re as wide-awake as all that, red,” grumbled pink, “i’d have had another game out of you.”
“you would—not. if we don’t stir up a little excitement during this stroll of ours, so i can get my mind off checkers, i’ll be beating you in my sleep. come on, if you’re ready.”
they descended the stairs, passed through the office, and out at the front of the hotel. then, turning south, they traversed the length of the main street.
ophir was an orderly little place. a great many easterners had come to the town, in the employ of the syndicate
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that operated the mine, and they exerted an influence in the settlement that was all on the side of law and order.
the street was quiet, and almost deserted. at the end of it, clancy and ballard found themselves in the trail that led directly to the ophir “workings.” the road stretched southward in a clear, whitish streak against its background of dusky desert.
“chip has got me going in this lenning affair,” confessed ballard, as they walked leisurely along the trail.
“same here, pink,” said clancy. “when chip takes the bit in his teeth you might as well stand back and let him go.”
“he never does that unless he’s mighty sure he’s on the right track.”
“sure not, but one of these days he’s liable to run full-tilt over the wrong course. between you and me, pink, i believe that’s what he’s doing now. lenning had a lot of nerve to refer mr. bradlaugh to chip.”
“that was the right move, though, if lenning really wanted help from merry. lenning was wise to that.”
“i guess he’s wise to a lot of things that merry will never know anything about. hang it all! i wish shoup had taken lenning out of the country with him. they’re a fine pair, those two, and one isn’t much better than the other.”
as the lads strolled on they kept an expectant watch ahead. at any moment they believed merriwell might show up in the trail, traveling townward. but they did not see him. the stamps were rumbling in the distance, and as the noise grew in volume, ballard halted with a shiver.
“there’s something about that moaning of the stamp
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mill, at the dead of night like this,” he remarked, “that gives me the creeps.”
“don’t get scared, little bright eyes,” murmured clancy soothingly. “remember, i’m along.”
“oh, you go to blazes!” grunted ballard. “if it was a case of spooks, red, you’re the last fellow i’d want for company. now——”
ballard had started on again. then, suddenly biting his words short, he halted once more.
“what’s the trouble, pink?” inquired clancy. “see anything in the bushes?”
“no, i don’t see anything,” returned ballard, “but my ears are pretty good, and i’m hearing something.”
“what?”
“listen yourself. maybe it will break out again.”
the lads were almost at the top of the rise where the trail pitched downward into the mining camp. consequently they were so close to the stamp mill that its racket interfered with the sounds they were listening for. but the noise came again, and it was clear enough.
“it’s the whinny of a horse,” said clancy.
“that’s how it struck me,” answered ballard. “the horse is in a thicket, over there on the left of the road. what’s a horse there for, at this time of night?”
“probably it’s a stray horse, pink. horses break loose occasionally, you know.”
“well,” declared ballard, “i’m going to find out whether it’s a stray horse or not. if the animal’s loose, we’ll lead it on to the mine. chances are, that’s where it came from.”
“lead on, old man. if trouble lurks in yonder thicket, don’t forget that clancy is ready to shoulder his share.”
there wasn’t much trouble in the thicket, that is, not so far as the lads could see. what they did find, however,
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were a couple of horses, saddled, bridled, and hitched to a white thorn bush. here, certainly, was food for reflection.
“what do you know about this?” demanded ballard.
“there’s no law against a couple of riders leaving their horses in a patch of scrub, pink,” remarked clancy.
“it’s queer, anyhow. where are the riders?”
“not being a mindreader, i’ll have to give that up. if the riders are not here now, they’ll probably be around before long. horses are worth money, you know, and they’re not left for good in any such way as this. possibly——”
“sh-h-h!” cut in ballard excitedly, grabbing his chum’s arm, and dragging him back into the greasewood. “they’re coming now,” he added, in a husky whisper, his lips close to clancy’s ear.
according to clancy’s matter-of-fact ideas, there was not much sense in hiding from those two horsemen. but ballard had ideas of his own—and nerves that had been somewhat ruffled by the uncanny booming of the stamps. he had insisted on pulling clancy down into the brush, and clancy was content to remain there.
two dark figures were crashing through the bushes, tearing their way toward the horses, as fast as they could go. between them the men were carrying something. it looked like a bag, and that the bag was heavy was proved by the fact that it caused them a lot of trouble.
the men did not exchange a word, but buckled in and hustled as though their lives depended on it. it was dark in the chaparral, and clancy and ballard could not see the men very distinctly, but they had no difficulty in following their movements.
when the horses were reached the bag was dropped. each man leaped to an animal and tore loose the bridle
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reins. one mounted. the other lifted up the bag and attempted to throw it over the horse behind the mounted man. the bag slipped and dropped again.
the man on the horse swore softly. it was the first sound either he or his companion had uttered.
the fellow on the ground made another attempt, and, this time, succeeded in getting the bag back of the saddle cantle. clancy and ballard could see that it was heavily weighted, and that the weight was divided in each end of the bag, so that the contents held it to the horse’s back.
then the other man scrambled to get into his saddle, and, in almost less time than it takes to tell it, both were mounted and ready for flight.
just here clancy yielded to a reckless impulse. had he thought twice about the matter, he would probably have suppressed himself. but he was excited, and perhaps not accountable for what he did.
starting up suddenly, he gave vent to a yell.
“hold up, you fellows!” he shouted. “what have you got there?”
his answer was a wild rattle of spurs and swish of quirts.
“ride!” shouted one of the horsemen, in a voice that was strangely familiar. “they’re laying for us!”
the horses dashed out of the chaparral at frenzied speed. something fell heavily, and the lads knew it must be the bag. it had been torn from the horse’s back by the bushes, or had been dislodged by the horse’s wild movements. anyhow, the bag dropped—and the horsemen did not pause to recover it. their anxiety to get away astounded clancy and ballard.
“what did you want to butt in for, red?” demanded ballard, watching the dim figures receding at breakneck speed into the distant shadows.
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“i don’t know,” answered clancy. “i was curious, i suppose. if i had it to do over again, i’d keep still. what i said scared them, though, and that’s why they went on without the bag. let’s see what’s in the thing.”
the boys stepped toward the heavily weighted bag and clancy began untying the cord at the top of it.
