ye all winter fer nuthin'," went on Josiah Bean, generously.

"Thank you, Mr. Bean; you are very kind."

"I mean it. We don't live very high-falutin', but we have plenty o'
plain, good victuals."

"I'll remember what you say," answered our hero.

An hour later he saw the countryman on a train bound for home, and then
he started once more to look for a situation.

CHAPTER XVII.

JOE'S NEW POSITION.

All of that afternoon Joe looked for a position among the various hotels
of the Quaker City. But at each place he visited he received the same
answer, that there was no help needed just then.

"This is discouraging," he told himself, as he retired that night.
"Perhaps I'll have to go to the country or back to Riverside after all."

Yet he was up bright and early the next day and just as eager as ever to
obtain a situation.

He had heard of a new hotel called the Grandon House and visited it
directly after breakfast.

As he entered the corridor he heard his name called and turning around
saw Andrew Mallison.

"How do you do, Mr. Mallison," said our hero, shaking hands. "I didn't
expect to meet you here."

"I've got a little special business in Philadelphia," said the hotel
man. "I came in last night and I am going back this afternoon. How are
you making out?"

"It's all out so far," and Joe smiled faintly at his own joke.

"No situation, eh?"

"That's it."

"Why don't you strike the people here. It's a new place and the
proprietor may need help."

"That is what I came for."

"I'll put in a good word for you, Joe. Come on."

Andrew Mallison led the way to the office and called up a stout,
pleasant looking man.

"Mr. Drew, this is a young friend of mine, Joe Bodley. He worked for
me this summer,--around the boats and also in the hotel. Now that the
season is at an end he is trying to find something to do in the city. If
you have an opening I can recommend him."

Mr. Arthur Drew surveyed Joe critically. The new hotel was to be run in
first-class style and he wanted his help to be of the best. He rather
liked Joe's appearance and he took note of the fact that our hero's
hands were scrupulously clean and that his shoes were blacked.

"I've got almost all the help I need, but I might take him on," he
said, slowly. "One of my present boys does not suit me at all. He is too
impudent."

"Well, Joe is never impudent and he is very reliable," answered Andrew
Mallison.

"I'll give you a trial."

"Thank you, sir."

"The wages will depend upon whether you board here or outside."

"How much will you give me if I stay at the hotel?"

"Four dollars a week."

"And what if I board outside?"

"Nine dollars a week."

"Can you give the boy a pretty fair room?" asked Andrew Mallison. "I
know yo'll like him after he has been here a while."

"He can have a room with another boy. That lad yonder," and the
proprietor of the Grandon House pointed with his hand.

Joe looked and saw that the other lad was gentlemanly looking and rather
pleasant.

"It will suit me to stay here, I think," he said. "Anyway, I am willing
to try it."

"When can you come to work?"

"Right away--or at least, as soon as I can get my suit case from where I
have been stopping."

"Then come in after dinner and I'll tell you what to do and turn you
over to my head man. Randolph, come here!"

At the call a bell boy came up.

"This is another boy who is to work here," said Arthur Drew. "He will
room with you."

"Thank you, Mr. Drew, I'll be glad to get rid of Jack Sagger," said
Frank Randolph.

"What's your name?" he went on to our hero.

"Joe Bodley."

"Mine is Frank Randolph. I guess we'll get along all right."

"I hope so, Frank," said Joe, and shook hands.

There was a little more talk and then Joe left, to get his dress suit
case and a few other things which belonged to him. By one o'clock he was
back to the Grandon House, and just in time to see Andrew Mallison going
away.

"I am much obliged, Mr. Mallison, for what you have done," said our
hero, warmly.

"You're welcome, Joe," answered the hotel man. "I take an interest in
you and I trust you do well here."

"I shall do my best."

After Andrew Mallison had gone Joe was shown around the hotel and
instructed in his various duties. Occasionally he was to do bell-boy
duty, but usually he was to be an all-around helper for the office.

"I think you'll like it here," said Frank Randolph. "It's the best hotel
I've ever worked in. Mr. Drew is a perfect gentleman."

"I am glad to hear it, Frank," answered our hero.

The room assigned to the two boys was a small one on the top floor of
the hotel. But it was clean, contained two nice cots, and Joe felt it
would suit him very well. Frank had hung up a few pictures and had a
shelf full of books and this made the apartment look quite home-like.

"I'm going to buy some books myself, this winter," said Joe. "And when I
get time I am going to do some studying."

"I'm studying myself, Joe. I never had much schooling," returned Frank.

"Are you alone in the world?"

"No, my father is living. But he is rather sickly and lives with an
uncle of mine, over in Camden. He can't work very much, and that is why
I have to support myself. Are you alone?"

"Yes. I think my father is living but I can't locate him."

The next day and for several days following Joe pitched into work in
earnest. Many things were strange to him, but he determined to master
them as speedily as possible, and this pleased Arthur Drew.

"That boy is all right," he said to his cashier. "I am glad that Andrew
Mallison brought him to me."

"Jack Sagger was awfully angry at being discharged," said the cashier.

"It was his own fault. I cannot afford to have a boy around who is
impudent."

What the cashier said about the discharged lad was true. Jack Sagger was
"mad clear through," and he attributed his discharge solely to Joe.

"I'll fix dat pill," he said to one of his chums. "He ain't going to do
me out of my job an' not suffer fer it."

"What are you going to do, Jack?" asked the companion.

"I'll mash him, dat's wot I'll do," answered Jack Sagger.

He was a big, rawboned lad, several inches taller than Joe. His face
was freckled, and his lips discolored by cigarette smoking. He was a
thoroughly tough boy and it was a wonder that he had ever been allowed
to work in the hotel at all. He had a fairly good home, but only went
there to sleep and to get his meals.

"Joe, I hear that Jack Sagger is going to make it warm for you," said
Frank, one Monday afternoon.

"I suppose he is angry because I got his position, is that it?"

"Yes."

"What is he going to do?"

"I don't know exactly, but he'll hurt you if he can."

"If he attacks me I'll do what I can to take care of myself," answered
our hero.

That afternoon he was sent out by Mr. Drew on an errand that took him
to a neighborhood occupied largely by wholesale provision houses. As Joe
left the hotel Jack Sagger saw him.

"Dere's dat country jay now," said Sagger.

"Now's your time to git square on him, Jack," said Nick Sammel, his
crony.

"Right you are, Nick. Come on."

"Going to follow him?"

"Yes, till I git him where I want him."

"Going to mash him?"

"Sure. When I git through wid him his own mother won't know him," went
on Jack Sagger, boastfully.

"Maybe he'll git the cops after you, Jack."

"I'll watch out fer dat, Nick, an' you must watch out too," answered
Jack Sagger.

"Are you sure you kin best him? He looks putty strong."

"Huh! Can't I fight? Didn't I best Sam Nolan, and Jerry Dibble?"

"That's right, Jack."

"Just let me git one chanct at him an' he'll run away, you see if he
don't. But he shan't git away until I give him a black eye an' knock out
a couple of his front teeth fer him," concluded the boaster.

CHAPTER XVIII.

JOE SHOWS HIS MUSCLE.

All unconscious that he was being followed, our hero went on his errand
to a wholesale provision house that supplied the Grandon Hotel with
meats and poultry. He felt in good spirits and so whistled lightly as he
walked.

Arriving at the place of business he transacted his errand as speedily
as possible and then started to return to the hotel.

He was just passing the entrance to a factory yard when he felt a hand
on his shoulder, and wheeling around found himself confronted by Jack
Sagger, Nick Sammel, and half a dozen others, who had gathered to see
their leader "polish off" the country boy.

"What do you want?" demanded Joe, sharply.

"You know well enough wot I want, country!" exclaimed Jack Sagger.

"I do not."

"You took my job away from me, an' I'm goin' to pay you fer doing it."

"Mr. Drew had a perfect right to discharge you, Jack Sagger. He said you
were impudent and he didn't want you around any more."

"You can't preach to me, country! Do you know wot I'm goin' ter do?"

"No."

"I'm going to make you promise to leave dat job. Will yer promise?"

"No."

"Den you have got to fight," and Jack Sagger began to pull up his rather
dirty coat sleeves.

"Supposing I don't want to fight?" went on our hero, as calmly as he
could.

"Yer got ter do it, country--or else make dat promise."

"I'll make no promise to you."

"Den take dat!"

As Jack Sagger uttered the last words he launched a blow at Joe's nose.
But our hero ducked and the blow went wide of its mark.

"Give it to him, Jack!"

"Show him what you can do!"

"Keep off," came from Joe. "If you don't, you'll get hurt!"

"Hear dat now! Jack, pitch in, quick, before anybody comes!"

Thus urged Jack Sagger struck out once more, landing on Joe's chest.
Then our hero drew back and sent in a blow with all his force. It took
the other boy squarely on the chin and sent him staggering against a
friend.

If ever there was a surprised boy that boy was Jack Sagger. He
had expected that to "polish off" Joe would be easy and he had not
anticipated such a defense as had been made. He righted himself and
gazed stupidly at our hero.

"Wot did yer hit me fer?" he gasped.

"You keep off or I'll hit you again," answered Joe.

There was a pause and Sagger sprang forward, trying to catch Joe around
the arms. But our hero was too quick for him and ducked once more. Then
he hit the bully in the ear and gave him another blow in the left eye.

"Ouch!" roared Jack Sagger. "Don't! Oh, my eye!"

"Have you had enough?" demanded Joe, who was commencing to warm up.

"Pitch in, fellers!" came from Jack Sagger. "Throw him down!"

"Ain't you going to do it alone?" queried Nick Sammel, in wonder, not
unmingled with a suspicion that Joe would not be as easy to handle as
anticipated.

"I--I've got a--a heartburn," came lamely from Sagger. "It come on me
all at onct. If it wasn't fer that I'd do him up all alone."

"You're a fraud, and you haven't any heart-burn!" cried Joe. "You're
afraid, that's all. If you want to fight, stand up, and we'll have it
out."

"Don't you call me afraid," said Sagger, but his voice had lost much of
its bullying tone.

"You're a big coward, Jack Sagger. After this I want you to leave me
alone."

"Ain't you fellers going to pitch in?" demanded Sagger, turning to his
cohorts.

"The first boy to hit me will get paid back with interest," said Joe,
sharply. "I don't like to fight but I can do it if I have to."

One or two had edged forward but when they saw his determined air they
slunk back.

"Go on and fight him, Jack," said one. "This is your mix-up, not ours."

"You said you was going to do him up brown," put in another.

"Ain't I got the heartburn?" blustered the bully. "I can't do nuthin'
when I git that. Wait till I'm well; then I'll show him."

"If you ever touch me again, Jack Sagger, I'll give you the worst
thrashing you ever had," said Joe, loudly. "Remember, I am not the least
bit afraid of you. The best thing you can do is to keep your distance."

"Humph!"

"I don't want to quarrel with anybody, but I am always ready to stick up
for my rights, just you remember that."

So speaking Joe backed out of the crowd, that opened to let him pass.
Several of the boys wanted to detain him, but not one had the courage to
do so. As soon as he was clear of his tormentors, he hurried back to the
hotel.

"How did you make out?" asked Mr. Drew.

"It's all right, sir, and they'll send the things to-night, sure,"
answered Joe. He hesitated for a moment. "I had a little excitement on
the way."

"How was that?"

"Jack Sagger and some other boys followed me up and wanted to polish me
off."

"You don't look as if they had done much polishing." And the hotel man
smiled.

"No, Jack Sagger got the worst of it. I guess he'll leave me alone in
the future."

"You mustn't fight around the hotel, Joe."

"This was on the way to Jackson & Bell's, sir. I was bound to defend
myself."

"To be sure. Sagger came to me yesterday and wanted to be taken back,
but I told him no--that I wouldn't have such an impudent fellow around."

As the winter season came on the hotel began to fill up and Joe was kept
busy from early in the morning until late at night, and so was Frank
Randolph. The two boys were firm friends, and on Sunday went to Sunday
School together and also to church, when their hotel duties permitted of
it.

In the corridor of the hotel Joe, one day, met the timid Felix Gussing,
the young man who had once had so much trouble in driving a horse.

"How do you do, Mr. Gussing," said our hero politely.

"Why if it isn't Joe!" cried the young man, and smiled. "What are you
doing here?"

"I work at this hotel now."

"Is it possible! Didn't you like it at Riverside?"

"Yes, but the place is shut up for the winter."

"Ah, I see."

"Are you stopping here, sir?"

"Yes, I came in an hour ago. I have business in Philadelphia."

"Maybe you're buying horses," said Joe, slyly.

"No! no! No more horses for me," ejaculated the dude. "I--er--this is of
more importance."

No more was said just then, but later our hero met Felix Gussing again,
and on the day following had an errand that took him to the young man's
room.

"Joe, you are quite a wise boy, perhaps I can confide in you," said
Felix Gussing, after some talk on other subjects.

"I'll be glad to be of service to you, Mr. Gussing."

"I have a delicate problem to solve. Sometimes a young man can give
better advice than an older person," went on the dude.

"Don't flatter me, Mr. Gussing."

"I am in love," went on the young man, flatly.

"Yes, sir."

"I am quite sure the young lady loves me."

"Then I suppose you are going to get married."

"There is an obstacle in the way."

"Oh!"

"Perhaps I had better tell you the whole story--if you'll listen to me,"
went on the dude.

"Certainly I'll listen," said Joe. "I've got a little time off."

And then Felix Gussing told his tale of woe, as will be found in the
next chapter.

CHAPTER XIX.

ONE KIND OF A DUEL.

"Her name is Clara, and she is the daughter of Major Thomas Botts
Sampson, of the regular army," began Felix Gussing.

"Then her father is a military man."

"Exactly, and that is the trouble," and the dude gave a groan. "It is
this way: When I went to see Major Sampson he greeted me very cordially,
until I disclosed the object of my visit.

"'Sir,' said he 'This is a matter which requires consideration. Have
you gained my daughter's consent?'

"'I have,' I answered.

"'So far so good,' said he. 'But there is one thing more. Have you
served in the army?'

"'No,' said I.

"'Or fought a duel?'

"'No.'

"Then he told me to remember that he had served in the army and that his
daughter was the daughter of an army man, one who had gone through many
battles. After that he said he was resolved that his daughter should
marry only somebody who had proved himself a man of courage."

"What did you do then?" asked Joe, becoming interested.

"What could I do? I am--er--no army man--no fighter. Evidently the major
wants a fighter for a son-in-law," and Felix Gussing groaned once more.

"You'll have to become a fighter," said Joe.

"No! no! I am a er--a man of peace!" cried the dude, in alarm.

"Mr. Gussing, I think I can arrange matters for you," said Joe, struck
by a certain idea.

"What can you mean, Joe?"

"I mean that I can prove to Major Sampson that you are a brave man."

"Do that, Joe, and I shall be your friend for life!" gasped the dude.

"Will you wait until to-morrow, Mr. Gussing?"

"Certainly, but do not keep me in suspense too long."

"This may cost you a little money."

"I don't care if it costs a hundred dollars."

"Then I am sure I can fix it up for you," answered Joe.

There was stopping at the hotel a man named Montgomery. He had at
different times been an auctioneer, a book-agent, a schoolmaster, and
a traveling salesman. He was just now selling curiosities and Joe felt
that he would be only too glad to do Felix Gussing a good turn if he
were paid for it.

Our hero had a talk with this man, and the upshot of the matter was that
Montgomery and the dude were introduced on the following morning.

"I think I can help you, Mr. Gussing," said the curiosity man, who, it
may be mentioned here, was a tall and important-looking personage. "I
was once in the army."

"What can you do?" questioned the dude, hopefully.

"Will it be worth fifty dollars to you if I aid you in winning the
consent of Major Sampson to wed his daughter?"

"Decidedly."

"This is also Joe's plan, so you will have to pay him, too."

"I don't want any money," put in our hero.

"Joe shall have ten dollars--if your plan wins out. But how is all this
to be accomplished?" continued Felix Gussing.

"We will take the earliest possible opportunity to visit Major Sampson,"
said Ulmer Montgomery.

"Well?"

"When we are all together, we'll get into some sort of an argument.
You shall call me a fool and I'll slap you in the face. Then you shall
challenge me to a duel."

"A duel! Why, sir, I--er--I never could shoot you, and I don't want to
be shot myself."

"My dear Mr. Gussing, you don't understand me. Don't you comprehend, the
pistols shall be loaded with powder only."

"Ah, that's the idea!" exclaimed the dude, much relieved.

"Yes. You see it will only be a sham duel so far as we are concerned,
but will, in the most harmless fashion possible, prove you to be a man
of honor and courage. Major Sampson's scruples will vanish, and you will
have the pleasure of gaining his daughter's hand in marriage.

"I agree, Mr. Montgomery--the plan is a famous one. Is it yours or is it
Joe's?"

"Joe's--but it will fall to me to help carry it out," said the
Jack-of-all-trades, who did not lose sight of the fifty dollars that had
been promised to him.

On the following day Felix Gussing and Mr. Montgomery took themselves
to Major Sampson's residence, where the stranger was introduced as a
curiosity hunter from Chicago.

"He wishes to look at your collection of swords," said the dude.

"I shall be delighted to show them," said the major, who was a person of
great self-importance.

"Ah, this is a fine sword from the Holy Land," said Mr. Montgomery,
handling one of the blades.

"I don't know where it came from," said the major. "It was presented to
me by a friend from Boston."

"That is a Russian sword," said the dude. "I know it by its handle."

"That sword is from the Holy Land," insisted Mr. Montgomery.

"Anybody is a fool to talk that way," cried Felix Gussing.

"Ha! do you call me a fool, sir!" stormed Montgomery.

"Gentlemen!" put in the major. "I think----"

"I am not a fool, sir, and I want you to know it!" bellowed Ulmer
Montgomery. "It's an outrage to call me such. Take that, sir!" and he
slapped Felix Gussing lightly on the cheek.

"Gentlemen, this must cease!" cried the major, coming between them. "In
my house, too! Disgraceful!"

"He has got to apologize to me!" roared the dude, acting his part to
perfection.

"Never!" shouted Montgomery.

"If you will not, I demand satisfaction. I--I will fight you in a duel."

"A duel!"

"Yes, a duel. Pistols, at ten paces," went on Felix Gussing.

"Well! well!" came from the major in amazement.

"Can I do less?" demanded the would-be son-in-law. "My honor is at
stake."

"Then stand by your honor by all means," cried the military man, who, at
times, was as hot-blooded as anybody.

During the talk the major's daughter had come upon the scene.

"Oh, Felix, what does this mean?" she demanded.

"I am going to fight this--this fellow a duel, pistols at ten paces,"
answered Felix, firmly.

"Felix!" she gasped. "You will not, you cannot fight. For my sake, do
not."

"Clara," answered the dude, smiling affectionately upon her. "For your
sake I would forego any personal gratification, but I must not suffer a
stain upon the honor."

"Well said!" exclaimed the major. "Felix is behaving well. I couldn't
have done better myself. I admire his courage and I give him free
permission to wed you after the--the--"

"But father, if he should be killed?" faltered the fair Clara.

"Never fear, Clara; all will go well," interposed Felix.

More words followed, but the dude pretended to be stubborn and so did
Ulmer Montgomery. Both went off to arrange about the duel, and the major
insisted upon it that he must be on hand to see the affair come off.

Matters were hurried along with all speed, and it was arranged that the
duel should take place on the following morning at ten o'clock, in a
country spot just outside of the city. Joe was invited to go along, and
carried the pistols, and two others were let into the secret, including
a doctor, who went fully prepared to attend to any wounds that might be
inflicted.

It did not take long to load the pistols, with powder only. Great care
was taken so that Major Sampson should not suspect the truth.

"Major," said Felix, in a trembling voice. "If I--if anything serious
happens to me tell Clara that--that I died like a man."

"Noble boy! I will! I will!" answered the military man.

"When I give the word, gentlemen, you will both fire!" said one of the
seconds.

"Very well," answered both of the duelists.

"Ready? One--two--three--fire!"

Both pistols were simultaneously discharged. When the smoke cleared away
it was ascertained that both parties were unharmed.

"Gentlemen, are you satisfied?" asked the seconds.

"I am," answered Ulmer Montgomery, quickly.

"Then I shall be," put in Felix Gussing. "And now that this affair is at
an end, Mr. Montgomery will you shake hands?" he added.

"With pleasure, Mr. Gussing!" was the reply. "I must say in all
frankness I am sorry we quarrelled in the first place. Perhaps I was
wrong about the sword."

"And perhaps I was wrong."

"Both of you were wrong," put in the major. "I hunted up the letter that
came with the blade. It is an old Spanish weapon. Let us all call the
affair off, and Mr. Montgomery shall come to Clara's wedding to Mr.
Gussing."

"With all my heart," cried Montgomery, and there the little plot came to
a finish.

CHAPTER XX.

ATTACKED IN THE DARK.

"Joe, the plot worked to perfection!" said Felix Gussing, on the day
following. "I have to thank you, and here are twenty dollars for your
trouble."

"I don't want a cent, Mr. Gussing," answered our hero. "I did it only
out of friendliness to you. I hope you have no further trouble in your
courtship."

"Oh, that was all settled last night. Clara and I are to be married next
week. We are going to send out the cards to-day. You see," went on the
young man in a lower tone. "I don't want to give the major a chance to
change his mind, or to suspect that that duel was not just what it ought
to have been."

"Does he suspect anything as yet?"

"Not a thing."

"Then you are wise to have the wedding as quickly as possible."

"When we are married I am going to let Clara into the secret. I know
she'll enjoy it as much as anybody."

"Well, you had better warn her to keep mum before her father. He looks
as if he could get pretty angry if he wanted to."

"As you won't take any money for this, Joe, wouldn't you like to come to
the wedding?"

"I'm afraid it will be too high-toned for me, Mr. Gussing."

"No, it is to be a plain, homelike affair--Clara wants it that way.
The major has some country cousins who will be there, and they are very
plain folks."

"Then I'll come--if Miss Sampson wishes it."

So it was arranged that Joe should attend the wedding, and as he was in
need of a new Sunday suit he purchased it at once, so that he could use
it at the wedding.

"You're in luck, Joe," remarked Frank, when he heard the news. "And that
suit looks very well on you."

In some manner it leaked out among the boys that Joe was going to the
wedding, and two days before the affair came off Jack Sagger learned
of it. He immediately consulted with some of his cronies, and it was
unanimously resolved to watch for Joe after the wedding was over and
chastise him severely for the manner in which he had treated "the gang."

"We'll fix him," said Sagger, suggestively.

At the proper time Joe took a car to the Sampson home and was there
introduced to a dozen or more people. The wedding proved an enjoyable
affair and the elegant supper that was served was one long to be
remembered.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Joe started for the hotel again. He
had thought to take a car, but afterwards concluded to walk.

"A walk will do me good--after such a hearty supper," he told himself.
"If I ride home I won't be able to sleep."

At the corner the Sagger crowd was waiting for him. One gave a low
whistle, and all slunk out of sight until Joe had passed.

Several blocks had been covered when our hero came to a spot where
several new buildings were in the course of construction. It was rather
dark and the street lights cast long and uncertain shadows along the
walk.

Joe had just started to cross a wooden bridge over an excavation when
he heard a rush behind him. Before he could turn he was given a violent
shove.

"Push him into de cellar hole!" came, in Jack Sagger's voice.

"Stop!" cried Joe, and it must be admitted that he was greatly alarmed.
But no attention was paid to his words, and over the side of the bridge
he went, to fall a distance of a dozen feet and land in a pile of dirt,
with one lower limb in a puddle of dirty water.

"Down he goes!" he heard, in the voice of Nick Sammel. "Wonder how he
likes it?"

"You're a mean, low crowd!" cried Joe, as he stood up. He was covered
with dirt and the cold water felt anything but agreeable on such a
frosty night as it chanced to be.

"Don't you dare to crawl out of dat!" said Sagger. "If yer do we'll
pitch yer in ag'in, won't we, fellers?"

"Sure we will!" was the cry.

"De next time we'll dump him in on his head!"

Growing somewhat accustomed to the semi-darkness, Joe counted seven of
his tormentors, all standing on the edge of the cellar hole into which
he had so unceremoniously been thrown. Several of the youths had heavy
sticks.

"I suppose I'll have to retreat," he reasoned "I can't fight seven of
them."

He turned to the rear of the cellar hole and felt his way along into
the deepest shadows. Presently he reached a partly finished building and
crawled up some planks leading to one of the floors.

"He is running away!" he heard Jack Sagger cry.

"Come on after him!" said another of the crowd.

"Let's take his new coat and vest away from him!" added a third.

The entire party dropped down into the hole and ran to the rear, in a
hunt after our hero. In the meantime Joe was feeling his way along a
scaffolding where some masons had been at work.

As it happened the entire party under Jack Sagger walked toward the
unfinished building and came to a halt directly under the scaffolding.
Joe saw them and crouched back out of sight.

"Where is de country jay?" he heard one of the crowd ask.

"He's back here somewhere," answered Jack Sagger. "We must find him an'
thump him good."

"You'll not thump me if I can help it," said our hero to himself.

Joe put out his hand and felt a cask near by. It was half filled with
dirty water, being used for the purposes of making mortar. A tub of
water was beside the cask.

"Tit for tat!" he thought, and as quickly as it could be done he
overturned the cask and the tub followed.

Joe's aim was perfect, and down came the shower of dirty water, directly
on the heads of the boys below. Every one was saturated and each set up
a yell of dismay.

"Oh, say, I'm soaked!"

"He trun water all over me!"

"Ugh! but dat's a regular ice bath, dat is!"

"That's what you get for throwing me into the hole!" cried Joe. "After
this you had better leave me alone."

"I've got some mortar in me eye!" screamed Jack Sagger, dancing around
in pain. "Oh, me eye is burned out!"

"I'm wet to de skin!" said Nick Sammel, with a shiver. "Oh, say, but
it's dead cold, ain't it?"

Waiting to hear no more, Joe ran along the scaffolding and then leaped
through a window of the unfinished building. A street light now guided
him and he came out through the back of the structure and into an
alleyway. From this he made his way to the street.

"I'll have to hurry," he reasoned. "If they catch me now they will want
to half kill me!"

"Don't let him git away!" he heard Sagger roar. "Catch him! Catch him!"

"Hold on there, you young rascals!" came a voice out of the darkness.
"What are you doing around these buildings?"

A watchman had come on the scene, with a lantern in one hand and a heavy
club in the other.

"We ain't doin' nuthin," said one of the boys.

"Maybe you're the gang that stole that lumber a couple of nights ago,"
went on the watchman, coming closer.

"Ain't touched yer lumber," growled Jack Sagger.

"We're after anudder feller wot hid in here," said Sammel.

"That's a likely story. I believe you are nothing but a crowd of young
thieves," grumbled the watchman. "Every night somebody is trying to
steal lumber or bricks, or something. I've a good mind to make an
example of you and have you all locked up."

"We ain't touched a thing!" cried a small boy, and began to back away in
alarm. At once several followed him.

"Here's a barrel of water knocked over and everything in a mess. You've
been skylarking, too. I'm going to have you locked up!"

The watchman made a dash after the boys and the crowd scattered in all
directions. Sagger received a crack on the shoulder that lamed him for
a week, and Sammel tripped and went down, taking the skin off of the end
of his nose.

"Oh, me nose!" he moaned. "It's busted entirely!"

"Run!" cried Sagger. "If you don't you'll be nabbed sure!" And then the
crowd ran with all their speed, scrambling out of the hole as best they
could. They did not stop until they were half a dozen blocks away and on
their way home.

"We made a fizzle of it dat trip," said Sagger, dolefully.

"It's all your fault," growled one of the boys. "I ain't goin' out wid
you again. You promise big things but you never do 'em."

"Oh, Jack 's a gas-bag, dat's wot he is," was the comment of another,
and he walked off by himself. Presently one after another of the boys
followed suit, leaving Jack Sagger to sneak home, a sadder if not a
wiser lad.

CHAPTER XXI.

DAYS AT THE HOTEL.

"Perhaps those fellows have learned a lesson they won't forget in a
hurry," remarked Frank to Joe, after he learned the particulars of the
attack in the dark.

"I hope they don't molest me further," answered our hero. "If they'll
only let me alone I'll let them alone."

"That Sagger is certainly on the downward path," said Frank. "If he
doesn't look out he'll land in jail."

What Frank said was true, and less than a week later they heard through
another hotel boy that Jack Sagger had been arrested for stealing some
lead pipe out of a vacant residence. The pipe had been sold to a junkman
for thirty cents and the boy had spent the proceeds on a ticket for
a cheap theater and some cigarettes. He was sent to the House of
Correction, and that was the last Joe heard of him.

With the coming of winter the hotel filled up and Joe was kept busy from
morning to night, so that he had little time for studying. He performed
his duties faithfully and the hotel proprietor was much pleased in
consequence.

"Joe is all right," he said to his cashier, "I can trust him with
anything."

"That's so, and he is very gentlemanly, too," replied the cashier.

Ulmer Montgomery was still at the hotel. He was now selling antiquaries,
and our hero often watched the fellow with interest. He suspected that
Montgomery was a good deal of a humbug, but could not prove it.

At length Montgomery told Joe that he was going to the far West to try
his fortunes. The man seemed to like our hero, and the night before he
left the hotel he called Joe into his room.

"I want to make you a present of some books I own," said Ulmer
Montgomery. "Perhaps you'll like to read them. They are historical
works."

"Thank you, Mr. Montgomery, you are very kind."

"I used to be a book agent, but I gave that up as it didn't pay me as
well as some other things."

"And you had these books left over?"

"Yes. The firm I worked for wouldn't take them back so I had to keep
them."

"And now you are selling curiosities."

At this Ulmer Montgomery smiled blandly.

"Not exactly, Joe--I only sell curiosities, or antiquities, when I am
hard up. On other occasions I do like other folks, work for a living."

"I don't quite understand."

"I dropped into selling curiosities when I was in the South and hard up
for cash. I wanted money the worst way, and I--well, I set to work to
raise it. Maybe you'd like to hear my story."

"I would."

"Mind you, I don't pose as a model of goodness and I shouldn't advise
you to follow in my footsteps. But I wanted money and wanted in badly.
So I put on my thinking cap, and I soon learned of a very zealous
antiquary living about five miles from where I was stopping. He was
wealthy and a bachelor, and spent no inconsiderable portion of his
income on curiosities."

"And you went to him?" said Joe, becoming interested.

"I at once determined to take advantage of this gentleman's antiquarian
zeal. I will own that I had some qualms of conscience--about imposing
upon the old gentleman, but I didn't know of any other way to procure
the money I absolutely needed.

"Having made all of my preparations, I set off for Mr. Leland's house.
To disguise myself I put on a pair of big goggles and an old-fashioned
collar and tie.

"'I understand, Mr. Leland, that you are in the habit of collecting
curiosities,' I said.

"'Quite right, sir,' said he. 'I have got together some few,' and he
gazed with an air of pride at the nondescript medley which surrounded
him.

"'I have in my possession,' I proceeded, 'two or three of great value,
which I had hoped to retain, but, well, I need money, and so I must part
with them, much as I wish to call them mine. But I wish to see that they
get into the proper hands, and I have been told that you are a great
antiquarian, understanding the true value of such things, and so--'

"'Pray, show them to me at once!' cried the old man, eagerly.

"'I have traveled a good deal, and been a pilgrim in many climes,' I
went on. 'I have wandered along the banks of the Euphrates and dipped my
feet in the currents of the Nile. I have gazed upon ruined cities--'

"'Yes! yes! show me what you have!' he cried, eagerly.

"'Here is a curiosity of the highest order', I said, opening a paper
and showing a bit of salt about the size of a walnut. 'This is a portion
of the statue of salt into which Lot's wife was turned.'

"'Is it possible?' cried the antiquary, taking the salt and gazing at
it in deep veneration. 'Are you quite certain of this?'

"'I am,' I answered. 'It is a portion of the wrist. I broke it off
myself. The hand was already gone.'"

"And did he buy it?" questioned Joe, in astonishment.

"He did, and gave me fifty dollars in cash for it."

"But that wasn't fair, Mr. Montgomery."

The seller of bogus curiosities shrugged his shoulders.

"Perhaps not. But I was hard up and had to do something."

"Did you sell him anything else?"

"I did--a walking stick, which I had procured in Connecticut. It was
covered with strange carvings and he mistook them for hieroglyphics, and
gave me ten dollars for the thing."

"I don't see how you could have the nerve to do such things, Mr.
Montgomery."

"Well, a man can do lots of things when he is driven to do them. I admit
the deals were rather barefaced, but, as I said before, I had to do
something. Some day, when I am rich, I'll return the money to the old
fellow," added the impostor.

He left the hotel that morning, and it may be said here that Joe did not
meet him again for several years.

Christmas came and went at the hotel, and our hero received several
presents from his friends, including a pair of gloves from Ned Talmadge
and a five-dollar gold piece from Felix Gussing. Some of the regular
boarders at the hotel also remembered him.

"And how do you like married life?" asked Joe, of Felix Gussing.

"We are getting along very nicely," said the dude.

"Have you told your wife about the duel yet?"

"No,--and I don't think I shall," added Felix Gussing. "You see
she--er--she thinks me a very brave man and--"

"And you don't want her to change her opinion," finished Joe, with a
smile!

"Why should I, Joe."

"Oh, I don't know as there is any reason, excepting that they usually
say men and their wives should have no secrets from each other."

"Mr. Montgomery is gone, I see," said the dude, changing the subject.

"Yes, sir."

"Then you are the only one who knows of this secret. You won't tell,
will you?"

"No, sir."

"We are having troubles enough as it is," went on the dude. "Both my
wife and I find housekeeping rather troublesome. It is hard to obtain
proper servants, and she does not care to do the work herself."

"Why don't you go to boarding?"

"Perhaps we will, later on."

With the new year came a heavy fall of snow and soon sleighs big and
little were in demand. Then came a slight fall of rain which made the
sidewalks a glare of ice.

"Got to be careful," announced Frank to Joe. "If you don't you'll go
down on your back."

"I intend to be careful," answered our hero. "I have no wish to break
any bones."

That afternoon Joe was sent on an errand to a place of business half a
mile away. On returning he chanced to stop at a street corner, to watch
a number of children who had made a long slide for themselves.

As he stood watching, a man came along bundled up in a great coat and
wearing a slouch hat and blue glasses. The man was walking rapidly, as
if in a hurry.

"That fellow looks familiar to me," thought Joe. "Wonder who he can be?"

He watched the stranger cross the street. Then the fellow happened to
step on the icy slide and in a twinkling he went down on his back, his
hat flying in one direction and a bundle he carried in another.

"Hurrah! Down goes the gent!" sang out a newsboy standing near.

"Come here an' I'll pick yer up!" said another street urchin.

"You rascals, you fixed this on purpose so I should fall!" cried the
man, starting to get up.

"Can I help you?" questioned Joe, coming up, and then he gave a start,
as he recognized the fellow.

It was Pat Malone, alias David Ball, from Montana!

CHAPTER XXII.

ABOUT SOME MINING SHARES.

"How do you do, Mr. Ball?" said our hero, coolly.

"Eh, what's that?" questioned Malone, in amazement. Then he recognized
Joe, and his face fell.

"I have often wondered what became of you," went on our hero. "Let me
help you up."

"I--that is--who are you, boy?" demanded Malone, getting to his feet and
picking up his hat and his bundle.

"You ought to remember me. I am Joe Bodley. I used to work for Mr.
Mallison, at Riverside."

"Don't know the man or the place," said Pat Malone, coolly. "You have
made a mistake."

"Then perhaps I had better call you Malone."

"Not at all. My name is Fry--John Fry."

"How often do you change your name, Mr. Fry."

"Don't get impudent!"

"I am not impudent,--I am only asking a plain question."

"I never change my name."

At that moment Joe saw a policeman on the opposite side of the street
and beckoned for the officer to come over.

"Hi! what's the meaning of this!" ejaculated Pat Malone.

"Officer, I want this man locked up," said Joe, and caught the rascal by
the arm, that he might not run away.

"What's the charge?" asked the bluecoat.

"He is wanted for swindling."

"Boy, are you really crazy?"

"No, I am not."

"Who are you?" asked the policeman, eyeing Joe sharply.

"My name is Joe Bodley. I work at the Grandon House. I will make a
charge against this man, and I'll bring the man who was swindled, too."

"That's fair talk," said the policeman. "I guess you'll both have to go
to the station with me."

"I'm willing," said Joe, promptly.

"I--I cannot go--I have a sick wife--I must get a doctor," stammered Pat
Malone. "Let me go. The boy is mistaken."

"You'll have to go with me."

"But my sick wife?"

"You can send for your friends and they can take care of her."

"I have no friends--we are strangers in Philadelphia. I don't want to
go."

Pat Malone tried to move on, but the policeman and Joe detained him, and
in the end he was marched off to the police station. Here Joe told what
he knew and Malone's record was looked up in the Rogues' Gallery.

"You've got the right man, that's sure," said the desk sergeant to our
hero. "Now where can you find this Mr. Maurice Vane?"

"I have his address at the hotel," answered our hero. "If I can go I'll
get it and send Mr. Vane a telegram."

"Bring the address here and we'll communicate with Mr. Vane."

Our hero agreed, and inside of half an hour a message was sent to
Maurice Vane, notifying him of the fact that Pat Malone had been caught.
Mr. Vane had gone to New York on business, but came back to Philadelphia
the next day.

When he saw that he was caught Pat Malone broke down utterly and made a
full confession, telling in detail how the plot against Maurice Vane had
been carried out.

"It was not my plan," said he. "Gaff Caven got the mining shares and he
arranged the whole thing."

"Where did you get the shares--steal them?" demanded Maurice Vane,
sharply.

"No, we didn't steal them. We bought them from an old miner for fifty
dollars. The miner is dead now."

"Can you prove this?"

"Yes."

"Then do so."

"Why?"

"I don't care to answer that question. But if you can prove to me that
you and Caven came by those shares honestly I won't prosecute you,
Malone."

"I will prove it!" was the quick answer, and that very afternoon Pat
Malone proved beyond a doubt that the shares had belonged to himself and
Gaff Caven when they sold them to Maurice Vane.

"That is all I want of you," said Maurice Vane. "I shan't appear against
you, Malone."

"Then those shares must be valuable after all?" queried the swindler.

"Perhaps they are. I am having them looked up. I am glad of this
opportunity of proving that they are now my absolute property."

"If Caven and I sold you good stocks we ought to be kicked full of
holes," grumbled Malone.

"That was your lookout, not mine," returned Maurice Vane. "Mind, I
don't say the shares are valuable. But they may be, and if so I shall be
satisfied with my bargain."

"Humph! where do I come in?"

"You don't come in at all--and you don't deserve to."

"If I didn't swindle you, you can't have me held for swindling."

"I don't intend to have you held. You can go for all I care."

Maurice Vane explained the situation to the police authorities and that
evening Pat Malone was allowed to go. He threatened to have somebody
sued for false imprisonment but the police laughed at him.

"Better not try it on, Malone," said one officer. "Remember, your
picture is in our Rogues' Gallery," and then the rascal was glad enough
to sneak away. The next day he took a train to Baltimore, where, after
an hour's hunt, he found Gaff Caven.

"We made a fine mess of things," he said, bitterly. "A fine mess!"

"What are you talking about, Pat?" asked Caven.

"Do you remember the mining stocks we sold to Maurice Vane?"

"Certainly I do."

"Well, he has got 'em yet."

"All right, he can keep them. We have his money too," and Gaff Caven
chuckled.

"I'd rather have the shares."

"Eh?"

"I said I'd rather have the shares, Gaff. We put our foot into it when
we sold 'em."

"Do you mean to say the shares are valuable?" demanded Gaff Caven.

"That's the size of it."

"Who told you this?"

"Nobody told me, but I can put two and two together as quick as
anybody."

"Well, explain."

"I was in Philadelphia when I ran into that hotel boy, Joe Bodley."

"What of that?"

"He had me arrested. Then they sent for Mr. Maurice Vane, and Vane made
me prove that the shares were really ours when we sold them to him. I
thought I'd go clear if I could prove that, so I went and did it. Then
Vane said he wouldn't prosecute me, for the shares might be valuable
after all."

"But the mine is abandoned."

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't. I guess Mr. Maurice Vane knows what he
is doing, and we were fools to sell out to him."

"If that mine is valuable I'm going to have it!" cried Gaff Caven. "He
can have his money back!" and the rascal who had overreached himself
began to pace the floor.

"Maybe he won't take his money back."

"Then I'll claim the mine anyway, Pat--and you must help me."

"What can you do?"

"Go out to Montana, just as soon as the weather is fit, and relocate
the mine. If it's any good we can find some fellows to help us hold
it somehow. I'm not going to let this slip into Maurice Vane's hands
without a struggle."

"Talk is cheap, but it takes money to pay for railroad tickets," went on
Malone.

"I've got the dust, Pat."

"Enough to fight Vane off if he should come West?"

"I think so. I met a rich fellow last week and I got a loan of four
thousand dollars."

"Without security?" and Malone winked suggestively.

"Exactly. Oh, he was a rich find," answered Gaff Caven, and gave a short
laugh.

"I'm willing to go anywhere. I'm tired of things here. It's getting too
warm for comfort."

"Then let us start West next week--after I can finish up a little
business here."

"I am willing."

And so the two rascals arranged to do Maurice Vane out of what had
become his lawful property.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FIRE AT THE HOTEL.

On the day following the scene at the police station Maurice Vane
stopped at the Grandon House to interview our hero.

"I must thank you for the interest you have taken in this matter, Joe,"
said he. "It is not every lad who would put himself out to such an
extent."

"I wanted to see justice done, Mr. Vane," answered our hero, modestly.

"Things have taken a sudden change since I saw you last summer," went on
Maurice Vane. "Perhaps it will be as well if I tell my whole story."

"I'd like first rate to hear it."

"After I got those shares of stock I felt that I had been swindled, and
I was very anxious to get hold of the rascals. But as time went on and
I could not locate them I resolved to look into the deal a little more
minutely and see if there was any chance of getting my money, or a
portion of it, back."

"I should have done the same."

"I wrote to a friend out West and he put me in communication with a
mining expert who set to work to find out all about the mine. The expert
sent me word, late in the fall, that the mine was, in his opinion,
located on a vein of gold well worth working."

"What did you do then?"

"I wanted to go West at once and look into the matter personally, but an
aunt died and I had to settle up her estate and see to the care of her
two children, and that held me back. Then winter came on, and I knew I'd
have to let matters rest until spring."

"Are you going out there in the spring?"

"Yes,--as early as possible, too."

"I hope you find the mine a valuable one, Mr. Vane."

"I place great reliance on what the mining expert said, for he is known
as a man who makes no mistakes."

"Then, if the mine proves of value, you'll have gotten a cheap piece of
property after all."

"Yes, indeed."

"Won't those swindlers be mad when they hear of this!"

"Most likely, my lad; but they have nobody to blame but themselves. I
bought their shares in good faith, while they sold them in bad faith."

"Is your title perfectly clear now?"

"Absolutely so."

"Then I hope the mine proves to be worth millions."

"Thank you, my boy."

"I'd like to own a mine like that myself."

"Would you? Well, perhaps you will some day."

"It's not likely. A hotel boy doesn't earn enough to buy a mine," and
our hero laughed.

"If I find the mine worth working and open up for business, how would
you like to go out there and work for me?"

"I'd like it very much, Mr. Vane."

"Very well, I'll bear that in mind," answered the possessor of the
mining shares.

"Why don't you buy up the rest of the mining shares first?"

"I am going to do so--if I can locate them."

"Perhaps the owners will sell cheap."

"I shall explain the situation and make a fair offer. I do not believe
in any underhand work," was the ready answer.

"Then you are not like some men I have met," said Joe, and told about
Ulmer Montgomery and his so-called antiquities.

"That man will never amount to anything, Joe--mark my words. He will
always be a hanger-on as we call them, in the business world."

"I believe you, sir."

"Honesty pays in the long run. A rogue may make something at the start
but sooner or later he will find himself exposed."

Maurice Vane remained at the hotel for a week and then left to go to
Chicago on business. From that point he was going to Montana as soon as
the weather permitted.

After that several weeks slipped by without anything unusual happening.
During those days Joe fell in again with Felix Gussing.

"We are going to move to Riverside," said the dude, if such he may still
be called, although he was a good business man. "I have rented a house
there--the old Martin place--and if you ever come to the town you must
visit us."

"Thank you, I will," answered our hero.

"My wife thinks a great deal of you and you must stop at the house
during your stay at Riverside," went on Felix Gussing.

A change came for Joe much quicker than was anticipated. One night, late
in the winter, he was just preparing to retire, when he smelt smoke.
He ran out of his room and to an air shaft and saw the smoke coming up
thickly.

"The hotel must be on fire!" he thought. "If it is, I'll have to notify
the management!"

He jumped rather than ran down the several stairways to the hotel
office. Here he told the proprietor and the cashier. An examination was
made and the fire was located in the laundry.

"Go and awaken all the guests," said Mr. Drew, and Joe ran off to do
as bidden. Other boys did the same, and before long the guests were
hurrying through the hallways and down the elevators and stairs.

By this time the smoke was coming thickly, and presently a sheet of
flame burst through at the rear of the hotel. The fire alarm had been
given and several engines and a hook-and-ladder company dashed on the
scene.

"Are your guests all out?" demanded a police officer.

"I believe so," answered Mr. Drew.

"I'm going to take a look around," said Joe, and darted upstairs once
more.

He visited room after room, only to find them empty. From the rear of
the hotel came the crackling of flames and down in the street the fire
engines were pounding away, sending their streams of water into the
structure.

On the third floor of the building our hero came across an old lady who
was rather queer in her mind. The lady was also lame and walked with
great difficulty.

"Oh, Joseph! what is the trouble?" she cried.

"The hotel is on fire, Mrs. Dalley. Come, let me help you out."

"On fire! Oh, I must save my canary!" And the old lady started back for
her room.

"You haven't got time, Mrs. Dalley. Come with me."

"I cannot let my dear Dick perish!" answered the old lady, firmly.

Joe looked along the hall and saw that the flames were moving swiftly
toward the room the old lady had occupied. To enter the apartment would
be highly dangerous.

"You simply can't go after the bird, madam," he said. "Come with me!"

"My bird! my bird!" screamed Mrs. Dalley, and tried to run, or rather
hobble, towards her room, despite the smoke that was now rolling over
her head.

"You must come with me!" exclaimed Joe, and drew her back. She tried to
struggle and then, without warning, fainted in his arms.

The burden was a heavy one, but our hero did not shirk the task before
him. He half dragged and half carried the unconscious lady to the
nearest staircase and almost fell to the bottom.

The smoke on the second floor was so thick he could scarcely see.

But he kept on and went down another flight and reached the office. He
could hardly breathe and the tears were running down both cheeks.

"Hullo there, boy!" came the call of a fireman, as he appeared through
the smoke. "Better get out of here!"

"Help me with this lady," answered Joe.

"A lady! Oh, all right!" And in a moment more the fireman had Mrs.
Dalley over his shoulder and was carrying her out. Joe came close
behind. The lady was taken to a nearby drug store where she speedily
revived.

By the prompt efforts of the fire department only a small portion of the
hotel was burnt. But the whole building was water-soaked, and all of the
boarders had to move out, and then the place was closed up.

"Out of a place once again," thought our hero, rather dismally. "What's
to do next?"

This was not an easy question to answer. He looked around for another
opening but, finding none, resolved to pay a visit to Riverside.

"I can call on the Gussings, and on Ned," he thought. "I know all of
them will be glad to see me. And maybe Mr. Mallison will be wanting to
make some arrangements for next summer. I suppose he'll run the boats as
usual."

"Going to leave Philadelphia, eh?" said Frank. "Do you intend to come
back, Joe?"

"I don't know yet, Frank."

"Well, I wish you luck."

"I wish you the same."

"If you go to work for Mallison this summer, maybe you can get me a job
too."

"I'll remember that," answered our hero.

His preparations were soon made, and then he boarded a train for
Riverside. He did not dream of the surprises in store for him.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE BLUE BOX AT LAST.

After calling on the Gussings and being invited to remain there for
several days, Joe took himself to Ned Talmadge's residence.

Ned was very glad to see him and had to give all the particulars of
another trip he had made to the West.

"I had a splendid time," said Ned. "I wish you had been along."

"Then you like the West, Ned?"

"Indeed I do,--better than the East."

"Perhaps I'll go West some day," went on our hero, and told his friend
of what Maurice Vane had said.

"I saw some mines while I was out there," continued Ned. "I went to the
very bottom of one mine. I can tell you I felt a bit shivery, being so
far underground."

"I suppose the miners get used to it."

"It would be a joke on those swindlers if that mine should prove of
value," went on Ned, after a pause.

"I hope, for Mr. Vane's sake, it does prove valuable."

"Now your hotel is burnt out, what are you going to do?"

"I haven't made up my mind, Ned. Perhaps I'll come back here, to work
for Mr. Mallison."

"Then we'll be together again next summer. That will suit me."

The boys had a good time together and then Joe said he would like to pay
a visit to his old home on the mountain side. Ned readily consented to
go along.

"But I don't imagine you'll find much of the old cabin left," he added.

There was still a little ice in the lake, but they rowed to the spot
without great difficulty and made their way to the tumble-down cabin.

It was not an inviting sight and it made Joe feel sober to view the
locality.

"Joe, you never heard anything of that blue box, did you?" asked Ned,
after several minutes of silence.

"No."

"It ought to be somewhere in this vicinity."

"It's gone, and that is all there is to it," said our hero, and gave a
long sigh.

The boys tramped around the vicinity for a good half hour, and then sat
down on a hollow log to eat a lunch they had brought along.

"Let us build a fire beside the old log," said Ned. "It will help to
keep us warm."

Joe was willing and the two boys soon had some leaves and twigs
gathered, and placed some good-sized branches on top to make the blaze
last. Then they began to eat and to warm themselves at the same time.

"This log would make a good hiding-place for some wild animal," remarked
Ned. "Can anything be inside?"

"It's not likely, Ned. The smoke would drive out any living creature."

"I'm going to get a stick and poke into the log."

Both boys procured sticks and began to poke at the log. Presently they
felt something move and a half-dazed snake came into view.

"There's your animal, Ned!" exclaimed Joe.

"Oh, a snake! Keep him away!" roared Ned, badly frightened.

"He can't hurt you--he is too stiff from the cold," answered our hero,
and quickly dispatched the snake with a stone.

"Do you suppose there are any more in the tree?" asked the rich boy,
still keeping at a distance.

"More than likely. I'll poke around with my stick and see."

"Be careful!"

"I am not afraid."

Joe's stick had something of a crotch on the end of it and with this he
began to rake among the dead leaves that had blown into the hollow log.
He brought out a great quantity but no more snakes showed themselves.

"I reckon he was the only one after all, Ned."

"The log is burning!" said Ned, an instant later. "See, the smoke is
coming out of the hollow."

"My stick is caught," said Joe, pulling hard on something. "I
guess--well, I declare!"

He gave a jerk, and from the hollow came a square object, covered with
smoking dirt and leaves.

"What is it?"

"Unless I am mistaken, it is a tin box."

"Oh, Joe, the blue box?"

Joe did not answer for he was brushing the smoking leaves and dirt from
the object. As he cleaned it off he caught sight of some blue paint. On
one end the box was badly charred from the fire.

"It's the blue box, sure enough," said Joe.

"And we came close to burning it up!" groaned Ned. "Oh, Joe, I am so
sorry!"

"It's not your fault, Ned, I was as much to blame as anybody. But who
would look for the box out here?"

"Perhaps some wild animal carried it off."

"That may be."

Joe had the box cleaned off by this time. It was still hot at one end
and smoking. He tried to pull it open, but found it locked.

"The contents will burn up before I can open it!" cried Joe.

He did not know what to do, and in desperation began to pry at the box
with his stick and his jackknife. Then the box broke open, scattering
some half-burnt papers in all directions.

The boys picked the papers up and also a small bag of buckskin. When Joe
opened the bag he found it contained exactly a hundred dollars in gold.

"That's a nice find," said Ned. "Anyway, you are a hundred dollars
richer than you were."

Joe began to peruse the half-burnt documents but could make little or
nothing out of them. He saw his own name and also that of a certain
William A. Bodley, and an estate in Iowa was mentioned.

"What do you find, Joe?"

"I can't tell you, Ned. The papers are too badly burnt."

"Let me look at them."

Our hero was willing, and the two boys spent an hour in trying to
decipher the documents.

"It is certainly a puzzle," said the rich boy. "Why not let my father
look over them?"

Joe was willing, and after wrapping up the documents with care, and
pocketing the hundred dollars in gold, Joe led the way back to the
boat. The wreck of the blue box was left behind, for it was rusty and
worthless.

That evening Mr. Talmadge, Ned and Joe spent two hours in going over the
documents and trying to supply the parts which had been rotted or burnt
away. They were only successful in part.

"I do not wish to say much about this, Joe," said Ned's father. "But
it would seem from these papers that you are the son of one William
A. Bodley, who at one time owned a farm in Iowa, in the township of
Millville. Did you ever hear Hiram Bodley speak of this?"

"Never."

"We might write to the authorities at Millville and see what they have
to say."

"I wish you'd do it. They may pay more attention to you than to a boy."

"I'll write at once."

"Father, hadn't Joe better stay here until we get a reply?" put in Ned.

"He may do so and welcome," answered Mr. Talmadge.

The letter was dispatched the next day and our hero waited anxiously for
the reply. It came five days later and was as follows:

"Your letter of inquiry received. There was a William A. Bodley in this
township twelve years ago. He sold his farm to a man named Augustus
Greggs and then disappeared. Before he sold out he lost his wife and
several children by sickness. Nobody here seems to know what became of
him.

"Joseph Korn."

"That is short and to the point," said Mr. Talmadge, "but it is
not satisfying. It does not state if this William A. Bodley had any
relatives so far as known."

"I guess the authorities did not want to bother about the matter," said
Joe.

"Why don't you visit Millville, Joe?" questioned Ned.

"I was thinking I could do that. It wouldn't cost a fortune, and I've
got that hundred dollars in gold to fall back on, besides my regular
savings."

"You might learn something to your advantage," came from Mr. Talmadge.
"I think it would be money well spent."

"Father, can't I go with Joe?" asked Ned.

"No, Ned, you must attend to your school duties."

"Then, Joe, you must send me full particulars by mail," said the rich
boy.

"Of course I'll do that, Ned," replied our hero.

It was arranged that Joe should leave Riverside on Monday and Ned went
to the depot to see him off.

"I wish you the best of luck, Joe!" called out Ned, as the train left
the station. "I don't know of a fellow who deserves better luck than you
do!"

CHAPTER XXV.

JOE VISITS CHICAGO.

Joe found Millville a sleepy town of three or four hundred inhabitants.
There was one main street containing two blocks of stores, a blacksmith
shop, a creamery and two churches.

When he stepped off the train our hero was eyed sharply by the loungers
about the platform.

"Anything I can' do for you?" asked one of the men, the driver of the
local stage.

"Will you tell me where Mr. Joseph Korn lives?"

"Joe lives up in the brown house yonder. But he ain't home now. He's
doing a job of carpentering."

"Can you tell me where?"

"Up to the Widow Fallow's place. Take you there for ten cents."

"Very well," and our hero jumped into the rickety turnout which went by
the name of the Millville stage.

The drive was not a long one and soon they came to a halt in front of
a residence where a man wearing a carpenter's apron was mending a
broken-down porch.

"There's Joe," said the stage driver, laconically.

The man looked up in wonder when Joe approached him. He dropped his
hammer and stood with his arms on his hips.

"This is Mr. Joseph Korn, I believe?"

"That's me, young man."

"I am Joe Bodley. You wrote to Mr. Talmadge, of Riverside, a few days
ago. I came on to find out what I could about a Mr. William A. Bodley
who used to live here."

"Oh, yes! Well, young man, I can't tell you much more 'n I did in that
letter. Bodley sold out, house, goods and everything, and left for parts
unknown."

"Did he have any relatives around here?"

"Not when he left. He had a wife and three children--a girl and two
boys--but they died."

"Did you ever hear of any relatives coming to see him--a man named Hiram
Bodley?"

"Not me--but Augustus Greggs--who bought his farm--might know about it."

"I'll take you to the Greggs' farm for ten cents," put in the stage
driver.

Again a bargain was struck, and a drive of ten minutes brought them to
the farm, located on the outskirts of Millville. They found the farm
owner at work by his wood pile, sawing wood. He was a pleasant appearing
individual.

"Come into the house," he said putting down his saw. "I'm glad to
see you," and when our hero had entered the little farmhouse he was
introduced to Mrs. Greggs and two grown-up sons, all of whom made him
feel thoroughly at home.

"To tell the truth," said Mr. Greggs, "I did not know William Bodley
very well. I came here looking for a farm and heard this was for sale,
and struck a bargain with him."

"Was he alone at that time?" questioned Joe.

"He was, and his trouble seemed to have made him a bit queer--not but
what he knew what he was doing."

"Did you learn anything about his family?"

"He had lost his wife and two children by disease. What had happened
to the other child was something of a mystery. I rather supposed it had
died while away from home, but I was not sure."

"Have you any idea at all what became of William Bodley?"

"Not exactly. Once I met a man in Pittsburg who had met a man of that
name in Idaho, among the mines. Both of us wondered if that William A.
Bodley was the same that I had bought my farm from."

"Did he say what part of Idaho?"

"He did, but I have forgotten now. Do you think he was a relative of
yours?"

"I don't know what to think. It may be that he was my father.

"Your father?"

"Yes," and Joe told his story and mentioned the documents found in the
blue tin box.

"It does look as if he might be your father," said Augustus Greggs.
"Maybe you're the child that was away from home at the time his other
children and his wife died."

"Do you think anybody else in this village would know anything more
about this William Bodley?"

"No, I don't. But it won't do any harm to ask around. That stage
driver knows all the old inhabitants. Perhaps some of them can tell you
something worth while."

Upon urgent invitation, Joe took dinner at the Greggs' farm and then set
out to visit a number of folks who had lived in Millville and vicinity
for many years. All remembered William A. Bodley and his family, but not
one could tell what had become of the man after he had sold out and gone
away.

"Maybe you had better advertise for him," suggested one man.

"It will cost a good deal to advertise all over the United States,"
replied Joe; "and for all I know he may be dead or out of the country."

Joe remained in Millville two days and then took the train back to the
East. Ned was the first to greet him on his return to Riverside.

"What luck?" he asked, anxiously.

"None whatever," was the sober answer.

"Oh, Joe, that's too bad!"

"I am afraid I am stumped, Ned."

They walked to the Talmadge mansion, and that evening talked the matter
over with Ned's father.

"I will arrange to have an advertisement inserted in a leading paper of
each of our big cities," said Mr. Talmadge. "That will cost something,
but not a fortune."

"You must let me pay for it," said our hero.

"No, Joe, you can put this down to Ned's credit--you two are such good
chums," and Mr. Talmadge smiled quietly.

The advertisements were sent out the following day, through an
advertising agent, and all waited for over two weeks for some reply, but
none came.

"It's no use," said Joe, and it must be admitted that he was much
downcast.

In the meantime he had seen Andrew Mallison and the hotel man said he
would willingly hire him for the summer as soon as the season opened,
and also give Frank Randolph a situation.

"You had better be my guest until that time," said Ned to our hero, when
he heard of this.

"Thank you, Ned, but I don't wish to remain idle so long."

The very next mail after this talk brought news for our hero. A letter
came from Maurice Vane, asking him if he wished to go to Montana.

"I am now certain that that mine is valuable," wrote the gentleman. "I
am going to start West next Monday. If you wish to go with me I will pay
your fare and allow you a salary of ten dollars per week to start on. I
think later on, I will have a good opening for you."

"That settles it, I am going West!" cried Joe, as he showed the letter
to his chum.

"Well, I don't blame you," was the reply. "I know just how nice it is
out there. You'll be sure to get along."

Before going to bed Joe wired his acceptance of the offer, and in the
morning received a telegram from Maurice Vane, asking him to go to
Chicago, to the Palmer House.

"That settles it, I'm off," said our hero, and bought a ticket for the
great city by the lakes without delay. Then he said good-bye to the
Talmadges and the Gussings, and boarded the train at sundown.

Joe was now getting used to traveling and no longer felt green and out
of place. He had engaged a berth, and took his ease until it was time
to go to bed. Arriving at Chicago he made his way without delay to the
Palmer House.

He found the hotel crowded and had some difficulty in getting a room.
Mr. Maurice Vane had not yet arrived.

"I guess I'll leave a note for him," thought our hero, and sauntered
into the reading-room to pen the communication.

While Joe was writing, two men came into the room and sat down behind a
pillar that was close at hand. They were in earnest conversation and he
could not help but catch what was said.

"You say he is coming West?" said one of the pair.

"Yes,--he started yesterday."

"And he has found out that the mine is really valuable?"

"I think so. Anyway he is quite excited about it. He sent a telegram to
that boy, too."

"The hotel boy you mean?"

"Yes."

So the talk ran on and Joe at length got up to take a look at the two
men. They were Gaff Caven and Pat Malone. At once our hero drew out of
sight again.

"How can you get the best of Vane, Gaff?" asked Malone, after a pause.

"There is but one way, Malone."

"And that is?"

"Can I trust you?"

"Haven't you trusted me before?"

"We must--" Caven paused. "We won't talk about it in this public place.
Come to my room and I'll lay my plan before you."

Then the two arose and left the reading-room as rapidly as they had
entered it.

CHAPTER XXVI.

HOW A SATCHEL DISAPPEARED.

"They certainly mean mischief," Joe told himself, after the two men had
vanished. He saw them enter an elevator, but did not know at what floor
they alighted.

Looking over the hotel register he was unable to find the names of
either Caven or Malone, or even Ball. Evidently the rascals were
traveling under other names now.

"They'll bear watching," he concluded. "I must put Mr. Vane on guard as
soon as he comes in."

He gave up the idea of leaving a note and took his station in the
corridor of the hotel. After waiting about two hours he saw a well-known
form approaching, dress-suit case in hand.

"Mr. Vane!"

"Oh, Joe, so you're here already! I'm glad I won't have to wait for
you."

"I'm afraid you won't be able to get a room, Mr. Vane. But you can have
mine."

"I telegraphed ahead for a room, Joe."

"Do you know that your enemies are here?" went on our hero.

"My enemies?"

"Gaff Caven and Pat Malone. But they are traveling under other names."

"Have they seen you?"

"I think not, sir."

Mr. Vane soon had his room assigned to him and he and our hero passed
up in the elevator. As soon as they were in the apartment by themselves,
Joe related what he had seen and heard.

"They are certainly on my trail," mused Maurice Vane. "And they must
have kept pretty close or they wouldn't know that I had asked you to
accompany me."

"They have some plot, Mr. Vane."

"Have you any idea what it is?"

"No, sir, excepting that they are going to try to do you out of your
interest in that mine."

Maurice Vane and Joe talked the matter over for an hour, but without
satisfaction. Then they went to the dining room for something to eat.

"We start for Montana in the morning," said the gentleman. "I think the
quicker I get on the ground the better it will be for me."

Although Maurice Vane and Joe did not know it, both were shadowed by
Caven and Malone. The two rascals had disguised themselves by donning
false beards and putting on spectacles.

"They leave in the morning," said Caven. "Malone, we must get tickets
for the same train, and, if possible, the same sleeping car."

"It's dangerous work," grumbled Pat Malone.

"If you want to back out, say so, and I'll go it alone."

"I don't want to back out. But we must be careful."

"I'll be careful, don't fear," answered the leader of the evil pair.

At the ticket office of the hotel, Maurice Vane procured the necessary
tickets and sleeper accommodations to the town of Golden Pass, Idaho. He
did not notice that he was watched. A moment later Gaff Caven stepped up
to the desk.

"I want a couple of tickets to Golden Pass, too," he said, carelessly.

"Yes, sir."

"Let me see, what sleeper did that other gentleman take?"

"Number 2, sir--berths 7 and 8."

"Then give me 9 and 10 or 5 and 6," went on Caven.

"9 and 10--here you are, sir," said the clerk, and made out the berth
checks. Without delay Caven hurried away, followed by Malone.

"We'll be in the sleeping compartment right next to that used by Vane
and the boy," chuckled Gaff Caven. "Pat, it ought to be dead easy."

"Have you the chloroform?"

"Yes, twice as much as we'll need."

"When can we leave the train?"

"At three o'clock, at a town called Snapwood. We can get another train
two hours later,--on the northern route."

All unconscious of being watched so closely, Maurice Vane and Joe rode
to the depot and boarded the train when it came along. Joe had been
looking for Caven and Malone, but without success.

"I cannot see those men anywhere," he said.

"They are probably in hiding," said his employer.

The train was only half full and for the time being Caven and Malone
kept themselves either in the smoking compartment or in the dining car.
It was dark when they took their seats, and soon the porter came through
to make up the berths for the night.

"I must confess I am rather sleepy," said Maurice Vane.

"So am I," returned our hero. "I am sure I can sleep like a top, no
matter how much the car shakes."

"Then both of us may as well go to bed at once."

So it was arranged, and they had the porter put up their berths a few
minutes later. Maurice Vane took the lower resting place while our hero
climbed to the top.

Although very tired it was some time before Joe could get to sleep. He
heard Maurice Vane breathing heavily and knew that his employer must be
fast in the land of dreams.

When Joe awoke it was with a peculiar, dizzy feeling in his head.

His eyes pained him not a little and for several minutes he could not
remember where he was. Then came a faint recollection of having tried to
arise during the night but of being held down.

"I must have been dreaming," he thought. "But it was exactly as if
somebody was keeping me down and holding something over my mouth and
nose."

He stretched himself and then pushed aside the berth curtain and gazed
out into the aisle of the car. The porter was already at work, turning
some of the berths into seats once more. Joe saw that it was daylight
and consulted the nickel watch he carried.

"Eight o'clock!" he exclaimed. "I've overslept myself sure! Mr. Vane
must be up long ago."

He slipped into his clothing and then knocked on the lower berth.

He heard a deep sigh.

"Mr. Vane!"

"Eh? Oh, Joe, is that you? What time is it?"

"Eight o'clock."

"What!" Maurice Vane started up. "I've certainly slept fast enough this
trip. Are you getting hungry waiting for me?"

"I just woke up myself."

"Oh!" Maurice Vane stretched himself. "My, how dizzy I am."

"I am dizzy too, sir. It must be from the motion of the car."

"Probably, although I rarely feel so, and I ride a great deal. I feel
rather sick at my stomach, too," went on the gentleman, as he began to
dress.

Joe had just started to go to the lavatory to wash up when he heard his
employer utter an exclamation.

"Joe!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Did you see anything of my satchel?"

"You took it into the berth with you."

"I don't see it."

"It must be somewhere around. I saw it when you went to bed."

"Yes, I put it under my pillow."

Both made a hasty search, but the satchel could not be found. The
dress-suit case stood under the seat and Joe's was beside it.

"This is strange. Can I have been robbed?"

"Was there much in that satchel, Mr. Vane?"

"Yes, those mining shares and some other articles of value."

"Then we must find the satchel by all means."

"I'll question the porter about this."

The colored man was called and questioned, but he denied having seen the
bag. By this time quite a few passengers became interested.

"Has anybody left this car?" asked Maurice Vane.

"The gen'men that occupied Numbers 9 and 10, sah," said the porter.

"When did they get off?"

"'Bout three o'clock, sah--when de train stopped at Snapwood."

"I haven't any tickets for Snapwood," said the conductor, who had
appeared on the scene.

"Then they must have had tickets for some other point," said Joe.

"That looks black for them."

The porter was asked to describe the two men and did so, to the best
of his ability. Then another search was made, and in a corner, under a
seat, a bottle was found, half filled with chloroform.

"It's as plain as day to me," said Maurice Vane. "Joe, I was
chloroformed."

"Perhaps I was, too. That's what gave us the dizzy feeling."

"And those two men--"

"Must have been Caven and Malone in disguise," finished our hero.

CHAPTER XXVII.

JOE MAKES A DISCOVERY.

"Who are Caven and Malone?" asked the conductor of the train, while a
number of passengers gathered around, to hear what Maurice Vane and our
hero might have to say.

"They are two rascals who are trying to do me out of my share of a
mine," explained Maurice Vane. "I had my mining shares in that satchel."

"If you wish I'll telegraph back to Snapwood for you," went on the train
official.

"How many miles is that?"

"A little over two hundred."

"What is the next stop of this train?"

"Leadington."

"When will we get there?"

"In ten minutes."

A telegram was prepared and sent back to Snapwood as soon as Leadington
was reached. The train was held for five minutes and it was learned that
nobody had been seen at the station there at three in the morning,
as the night operator and station master were away, there being no
passengers to get on the train bound West.

Maurice Vane was much disturbed and did not know what to do.

"To go back and look for them at Snapwood may be a mere waste of time,"
said he. "On the other hand, I don't feel much like going on while the
shares are out of my possession."

"If you wish it, Mr. Vane, I'll go back," said Joe. "You can go ahead,
and if anything turns up I will telegraph to you."

This pleased the gentleman, and he said Joe could go back on the very
next train. The conductor was again consulted, and our hero left the
train bound West a quarter of an hour later.

"Here is some money," said Maurice Vane on parting. "You'll need it."
And he handed over two hundred dollars.

"Oh, Mr. Vane! will I need as much as this?"

"Perhaps. If you see those rascals you may have a long chase to capture
them. Do not hesitate to spend the money if it appears necessary to do
so."

Long before noon our hero was on the way East on a train scheduled to
stop at Snapwood. He went without his dress-suit case and carried his
money in four different pockets.

The train was almost empty and the riding proved decidedly lonely. In a
seat he found an Omaha paper, but he was in no humor for reading. When
noon came he took his time eating his dinner, so that the afternoon's
ride might not appear so lasting.

About half-past two o'clock the train came to an unexpected halt.

Looking out of the window Joe saw that they were in something of a cut,
close to the edge of a woods.

The delay continued, and presently one passenger after another alighted,
to learn the meaning of the hold-up. Joe did likewise, and walked
through the cut toward the locomotive.

The mystery was easily explained. On one side of the cut the bank had
toppled over the tracks, carrying with it two trees of good size.
A number of train hands were already at work, sawing the trees into
pieces, so that they might be shifted clear of the tracks.

Joe watched the men laboring for a few minutes and then walked up the
bank, to get a look at the surroundings. Then he heard a whistle and saw
a train approaching from the opposite direction. It came to a halt a few
hundred feet away.

As the delay continued our hero walked along the bank of the cut and up
to the newly-arrived train. The latter was crowded with passengers, some
of whom also got out.

"Did that train stop at Snapwood?" he asked of one of the passengers.

"It did," was the answer.

"Did you see anybody get on?"

"No, but somebody might have gotten on. I wasn't looking."

"Thank you."

"Looking for a friend?"

"No," said Joe, and moved on.

Without delay our hero ran to the front end of the newly-arrived train
and got aboard. As he walked through he gave every grown passenger a
close look.

At the end of the third car he came upon two suspicious-looking
individuals, who were gazing at a bit of paper in the hands of one. Joe
came closer and saw that the paper was a mining share.

"Caven and Malone, as sure as fate!" he murmured to himself. "What had I
best do next?"

While Joe was trying to make up his mind, Caven chanced to glance up
and his eyes fell upon our hero. He gave a cry of dismay and thrust the
mining share out of sight.

"What's the matter?" asked Malone in a low tone.

"Look there, Pat! That boy!"

"No!"

"But it is!"

"How did he get on this train?"

"I don't know. But it's unpleasant enough for us."

"Do you suppose Vane is around?" asked Malone, nervously.

"He may be."

The two men stared around the car. Only some women and children were
present, the men having gone out to learn the cause of the delay.

"Perhaps we had better get out," went on Malone.

"All right."

They arose, and, satchel in hand, started to leave the train.

"Stop!" cried Joe, and caught Caven by the arm.

"Let go of me, boy!" ejaculated the rascal, and tried to pull himself
loose.

"I won't let go, Gaff Caven."

"If you don't, it will be the worse for you! I am not to be trifled
with!"

"You must give up that satchel."

"Bah!"

"If you don't, I'm going to have you arrested."

"Who is going to arrest me here?" sneered the man who had robbed Maurice
Vane. "Don't you know we are miles away from any town?"

"I don't care. Give up the satchel, or I'll call the train hands."

"I'll give up nothing, boy! Stand out of my way!"

Gaff Caven gave Joe a violent shove which sent our hero up against a
seat. Then he turned and ran from the car, with Pat Malone ahead of him.

"Stop them!" cried Joe, as soon as he could recover. "Stop the thieves!"

Others took up the cry, but before anything could be done Caven and
Malone were out of the car and on to the tracks. Both stared around in
perplexity for a second.

"Come on, we can't afford to waste time here!" cried Caven, and ran for
the bank of the cut, up which he scrambled hastily, with his confederate
at his side.

Joe saw them make the move and was not slow to follow. Near at hand was
a tall, western young man, with bronzed features and a general outdoor
manner.

"Say!" cried our hero. "Will you help me to catch those two men? They
are thieves and I want them arrested. If you'll help me catch them I'll
pay you well for your trouble."

"I'll go you, stranger!" answered the western young man, readily. "You
are certain of your game?"

"Yes. That satchel has their plunder in it. They robbed a friend of
mine."

"This suits me then, friend. We'll round 'em up in short order."

By this time Caven and Malone had gained the woods. Looking back they
saw Joe coming behind, accompanied by the westerner.

"He's after us, and he has got somebody to help him," ejaculated Malone.

"Well, I reckon we can run as fast as they can," answered Gaff Caven.
"Come ahead!"

He led the way along a trail that ran through the woods and came out on
a winding country road. Beyond was another patch of timber.

"This way, Pat," said he. "We'll have to take to the woods again. They
are too close for comfort."

"Can't we climb a tree, or hide in a hollow?" questioned the
confederate.

"We'll see," said Caven.

They pushed on harder than ever, and passed in among some tall trees.
Then they came to a tree that was bent over.

"Up you go," cried Caven, and gave his confederate a boost into the
tree. Then he hauled himself up.

"Now climb to the top," he went on, and Malone did as requested. Caven
followed suit, and both hid themselves among the thick branches.

"They won't find us here," said Malone, after ten minutes had passed.

"Don't make a noise," whispered Caven.

After that they remained silent. From a great distance came a shouting,
and the whistling of locomotives. The trees were being hauled from the
car tracks. A little later they heard more whistling and then the two
trains passed on their way.

"The trains have gone," whispered Malone. "Do you think the boy got
aboard one of them?"

"No, I don't," answered his companion. "He is too determined a lad to
give up so easily. He must be still looking for us."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FROM OUT OF A TREE.

Caven was right, Joe and his newly-made friend were still in the woods,
doing their best to locate the two rascals.

They had found the trail but lost it in the patch of tall timber, and
were gazing around when they heard the trains leaving the cut.

"There goes our outfit, friend," said the westerner. "And there won't be
another train along for several hours."

"It's too bad, but it can't be helped," answered our hero. "But I'll pay
you for all time lost, Mr.--"

"Plain Bill Badger is my handle, stranger."

"My name is Joe Bodley."

"What about these two varmin you are after?"

"They were trying to rob a friend of mine of some mining shares,"
answered Joe, and gave a few details.

"Well, I vow!" cried Bill Badger "That mine is close to one my dad owns.
They say it ain't of much account though."

"Mr. Vane thinks it is valuable. He has had a mining expert go into the
matter with great care."

"Then that's a different thing. Were you bound for the mine?"

"Yes, and so was Mr. Vane. We were on the train together when he was
robbed."

"I see. I was going out to my dad's mine."

"Then perhaps we can journey together--after we get through here," said
Joe.

"I'm willing. I like your looks. Shake." And the pair shook hands.

Although a westerner, Bill Badger knew no more about following a trail
than did our hero, consequently they proceeded on their hunt with
difficulty.

"Reckon we've missed 'em," said Bill Badger, a while later. "Don't see
hide nor hair of 'em anywhere."

"It's too bad if they got away," answered Joe. "Perhaps--What was that?"

The cracking of a tree limb had reached their ears, followed by a cry of
alarm. A limb upon which Pat Malone was standing had broken, causing the
fellow to slip to another branch below.

"Hush! don't make so much noise!" said Caven, in alarm.

"Gosh! I thought I was going to tumble, out of the tree to the ground,"
gasped Malone, when he could catch his breath.

"They are coming--I can see them," whispered Gaff Caven. "Be as quiet as
a mouse."

In a moment more Joe and Bill Badger stood directly under the tree.

"I think the noise came from near here," said Joe.

"I agree," answered the westerner.

At that moment our hero looked up and saw a man's arm circling a tree
limb far over his head.

"They are up there!" he shouted.

"Sure?"

"Yes, I just saw one of them."

"Then we've got 'em treed," came with a broad grin from Bill Badger.
"What's the next turn of the game?"

"We have got to make them both prisoners."

"All right. Have you got a shooting iron?"

"No, but I can get a club."

"Then do it, and I'll use this, if it's necessary," and the young
westerner pulled a pistol from his hip pocket.

"I wish we had some ropes, with which to tie them," continued Joe.

"Here's a good big handkerchief."

"That's an idea. My handkerchief is also good and strong."

"You do the pow-wowing and I'll do the shooting, if it's necessary,"
said Bill Badger.

Joe looked up into the tree again but could see nobody.

"Caven!" he called out. "I know you are up there and I want you to come
down."

To this remark and request there was no reply.

"If you don't come down we may begin to fire at you," went on our hero.

"Oh, say, do you think he'll shoot?" whispered Malone, in sudden alarm.

"No; shut up!" returned Caven.

"Are you coming down or not?" went on Joe.

Still there was no reply.

"I'll give 'em a shot to warn 'em," said Bill Badger, and fired into the
air at random.

"Don't shoot me!" roared Pat Malone. "Please don't! I'll come down!"

"Well, you come down first. Caven, you stay up there for the present."

After this there was a pause, and presently Pat Malone came down out of
the tree looking sheepish enough.

"Up with your hands!" cried Bill Badger, and confronted by the firearms
the hands of the rascal went up in a hurry.

Then Joe took his handkerchief and stepped up behind Malone. The hands
were lowered and crossed and our hero tied them firmly together at the
wrists.

"Now back up to that tree yonder," said our hero. "And don't you dare to
move."

"I'll do just as you say," whined Malone. "Only don't shoot me." He was
a coward at heart.

"Now, Caven, you come down!" shouted Joe.

"I don't think I care to," answered that rascal, coolly.

"If you don't come down I'll come up after you with my pistol," broke in
Bill Badger.

"Maybe I can do a little shooting myself," went on Gaff Caven.

"I'll risk that."

More words followed, but in the end Caven thought it best to descend and
did so. Yet his face still wore a look of defiance. He was compelled to
turn around, and his hands were also tied behind him.

"Now I want those mining shares, Caven," said Joe.

"I haven't got them."

"Where is the satchel?"

"I threw it away when you started after me."

"Down at the railroad tracks?"

"Yes."

"Don't you believe that," broke in Bill Badger. "At least, not unless he
emptied the satchel first."

"Show me the way you came," said Joe.

"Make him point out the satchel, or make him suffer," went on Bill
Badger.

"I've got an idea!" cried our hero, suddenly. "Perhaps he left the
satchel in the tree."

"That's so. Well, if you want to climb up and look around, I'll watch
the pair of 'em."

"Don't let them get away."

"If they try it, they'll go to the hospital or the graveyard," replied
the western young man, significantly.

"The satchel ain't in the tree," growled Caven, but his tone lacked
positiveness.

"I'll soon know for certain," said our hero.

He climbed the tree with ease, having been used to such doings when
living with the old hermit. As he went from branch to branch he kept his
eyes open, and presently saw a bit of leather sticking out of a crotch.
He worked his way over and soon had the satchel in his possession.

"How are you making out?" called up Bill Badger.

"I've got it!" shouted our hero, joyfully.

"Got the papers?"

"Yes,--everything," said Joe, after a hasty examination.

"Hang the luck!" muttered Gaff Caven, much chagrined.

Our hero was soon on the ground once more. Here he examined the contents
of the satchel with care. Everything was there, and, locking the bag, he
slung the strap over his shoulder.

"Now, what's the next move?" queried Bill Badger.

"We ought to have these men locked up. How far is it to the nearest
town?"

"Ten or twelve miles, I reckon. I don't know much about the roads."

"Why can't you let us go?" asked Malone. "You've got what you want."

"If I let you go you'll be trying to make more trouble for Mr. Vane and
myself."

"Don't talk to them," growled Caven. "If you want to lock us up, do so!"

He was in an ugly humor and ready for a fight.

"We'll march 'em along," said Bill Badger, and so it was agreed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE FATE OF TWO EVILDOERS.

"Are you going to let them arrest us?" whispered Pat Malone, as the
whole party moved through the woods towards a wagon road which ran
nearly parallel to the railroad tracks.

"Not if I can help it," Caven whispered back. "We must watch our
chances."

Half a mile was covered and they came out on the road. It was growing
dark and there were signs of a storm in the air.

"It's going to rain," said Joe, and he was right.

"See here, I don't want to get wet to the skin," growled Caven. "I'll
catch my death of cold."

"There is a barn just ahead," said Bill Badger. "Let us get inside."

Joe was willing, and soon all were in the barn. It was now raining at a
heavy rate and they were glad to be under shelter.

"With a barn there ought to be a house," remarked our hero. "But I don't
see any."

It grew still darker, and the rain came down in perfect sheets. The roof
of the barn leaked, and they had to move from one spot to another, to
keep out of the drippings.

While this was going on Gaff Caven was working at the handkerchief
that bound his wrists and soon had it loose. Pat Malone also liberated
himself. Caven winked suggestively at his confederate.

"Watch me," he whispered. "When I give the signal we'll knock 'em both
down and run for it."

"But the pistol--" began Malone.

"I'll take care of that."

In moving around the old barn Caven spotted a club and moved close to
it. Suddenly he snatched the weapon up and hit Bill Badger on the arm
with it. The pistol flew into a corner and went off, sending a bullet
into a board.

"Run!" yelled Caven, and leaped for the open doorway. Malone came beside
him, and both ran off through the rain as fast as their legs could carry
them.

Joe was startled and made after the pair. But at a groan from Bill
Badger he paused.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked.

"He gave me a stiff crack on the arm," growled the young westerner.

Joe ran for the corner and caught up the pistol. Then he leaped for the
open doorway.

"Stop, both of you!" he called out. "Stop, or I'll fire!"

"Don't you dare!" shrieked Pat Malone, and ran faster than ever, behind
the nearest of the trees. Joe aimed the weapon, but before he could pull
the trigger both of the bad men were out of sight.

"Go after them, if you want to," said Bill Badger. "I'll go too."

"You are not badly hurt?" queried our hero, sympathetically.

"No, but if I catch that fellow I'll give it to him good," grumbled the
young westerner.

Both now left the barn and made after Caven and Malone. Once they caught
sight of the rascals, moving in the direction of the railroad tracks.

"They are going to catch a train if they can!" cried our hero. "I hear
one coming."

"It's a freight most likely," was Bill Badger's answer.

He was right, and soon the long line of freight cars hove into sight
around a bend and on an upgrade. Far in the distance they beheld Caven
and Malone scooting for the train with all speed.

"They are going to make it," sighed Joe. "Too bad!"

They continued to run, but before they could get anywhere near the
tracks they saw Caven leap for the train and get between two of the
cars. Then Malone got aboard also, and the freight train passed out of
sight through the cut.

"That ends the chase," said Joe, halting. "They were slick to get away."

"If we only knew where they would get off we could send word ahead,"
suggested his companion.

"Well, we don't know, and after this they will probably keep their eyes
wide open and keep out of sight as much as possible. Anyway, I don't
think they'll bother Mr. Vane any more."

"It's not likely. I'm a witness to what they were up to," answered the
young westerner.

Both Joe and Bill Badger were soaked from the rain and resolved to
strike out for the nearest farmhouse or village. They kept along the
railroad tracks, and presently came to a shanty where there was a
track-walker.

"How far to the nearest village?" asked our hero.

"Half a mile."

"Thank you."

"How is it you are out here in the rain?" went on the track-walker.

"We got off our train and it went off without us."

"Oh, I see. Too bad."

Again our hero and his companion hurried on, and soon came in sight of
a small village. They inquired their way to a tavern, and there dried
their clothing and procured a good, hot meal, which made both feel much
better.

"I am going to send a telegram to Mr. Vane," said Joe, and did so
without further delay. He was careful of the satchel and did not leave
it out of his sight.

They found they could get a train for the West that evening at seven
o'clock and at the proper time hurried to the depot.

"I'm glad I met you," said Joe, to his newly-made friend. "Now, what do
you think I owe you for what you did?"

"As we didn't land the fellows in jail you don't owe me anything," said
Bill Badger, promptly.

"Oh, yes, I do."

"Well then, you can pay the extra expense, and let that fill the bill."

"I'll certainly do that," said Joe, promptly.

As they rode along Bill Badger told something of himself and of the mine
his father owned, and then Joe told something of his own story.

"Did you say your name is Joe Bodley?" asked the young westerner, with
deep interest.

"Yes."

"And you are looking for a man by the name of William A. Bodley?"

"I am."

"It seems to me I know a man by that name, although the miners all call
him Bill Bodley."

"Where is this Bill Bodley?"

"Out in Montana somewhere. He worked for my father once, about three
years ago. He was rather a strange man, about fifty years old. He had
white hair and a white beard, and acted as if he had great trouble on
his mind."

"You do not know where he is now?"

"No, but perhaps my father knows."

"Then I'm going to see your father as soon as I can," said Joe,
decidedly.

"Mind you, I don't say that this Bill Bodley is the man you are after,
Joe. I don't want to raise any false hopes."

"Did you ever hear where the man came from?"

"I think he told somebody that he once owned a farm in Kansas or Iowa."

"This William A. Bodley once owned a farm at Millville, Iowa."

"Is that so! Then he may be the same man after all. To tell the truth,
he looked a little bit like you."

"Was he a good man?" asked Joe, eagerly.

"Yes, indeed. But some of the men poked fun at him because he was so
silent and strange at times. I liked him and so did father. He left us
to go prospecting in the mountains."

Thus the talk ran on for half an hour, when the train came to a sudden
halt.

"Are we at a station?" asked Bill Badger.

"I don't know," said Joe.

Both looked out of the window but could see nothing except hills and
forests.

"We are in the foothills," said the young westerner. "Something must be
wrong on the tracks."

"More fallen trees perhaps."

"Or a landslide. They have them sometimes, when it rains as hard as it
did to-day."

They left the car with some others and soon learned that there had been
a freight collision ahead and that half a dozen freight cars had been
smashed to splinters.

"Do you think it can be the freight that Caven and Malone boarded?" came
from our hero, on hearing this news.

"It might be," answered Bill Badger. "Let us take a look. Our train
won't move for hours now."

They walked to the scene of the wreck. One of the cars had been burnt
up but the conflagration was now under control and a wrecking crew was
already at work clearing the tracks so that they might be used.

"Anybody hurt?" asked Joe of a train hand.

"Yes, two men killed. They were riding between the cars."

"Tramps?"

"They didn't look like tramps. But they hadn't any right to ride on the
freight."

"Where are they?"

"Over in the shanty yonder."

With a queer sensation in his heart Joe walked to the little building,
accompanied by Bill Badger. A curious crowd was around and they had to
force their way to the front.

One look was enough. Gaff Caven and Pat Malone lay there, cold in death.
They had paid the penalty of their crimes on earth and gone to the final
judgment.

CHAPTER XXX.

CONCLUSION.

"Let us go away!" whispered Joe, and moved out of the gathering without
delay.

"It was sure rough on 'em," was Bill Badger's comment.

"Oh, it was awful!" cried our hero. "I--I didn't expect this, did you?"

"Nobody did. It must have come sudden like on to 'em."

"It makes me sick at heart to think of it. I--I hope it wasn't our
fault."

"Not at all. If they hadn't broke away they'd be alive this minute.
They'll never bother you or your friend again, Joe."

Our hero felt weak at the knees and was glad enough to go back to the
train, where he sank into his seat. He scarcely said another word until
the wreck was cleared away and they were once more on their journey.

"I reckon you are glad you got the satchel before this happened,"
remarked Bill Badger, when they were preparing to retire.

"Yes. But I--I wish they had gotten away. It's awful to think they are
dead--and with such bad doings to their credit."

Joe did not sleep very well and he was up early in the morning and out
on the rear platform, drinking in the fresh air. He felt as if he had
passed through some fearful nightmare.

"How do you like this climate?" asked Bill Badger, as he came out.
"Ain't it just glorious?"

"It certainly is," said Joe, and he remembered what Ned had told him. "I
don't wonder some folks like it better than the East."

"Oh, the East can't compare to it," answered Bill Badger. "Why I was
once down to New York and Boston, and the crowd and confusion and smoke
and smells made me sick for a week! Give me the pure mountain air every
time!"

The day proved a pleasant one and when he did not remember the tragedy
that had occurred our hero enjoyed the ride and the wild scenery.

At last Golden Pass was reached, late at night, and they got off in a
crowd of people.

"Joe!"

"Mr. Vane!" was the answering cry, and soon the two were shaking hands.
"Let me introduce a new friend, Mr. Bill Badger."

"Glad to know you."

"Mr. Badger helped me get back your satchel," went on our hero.

"Then I am deeply indebted to him."

"In that case, just drop the mister from my name," drawled the young
westerner. "Joe tells me you have a mine up here. My father has one,
too--the Mary Jennie, next to the Royal Flush."

"Oh, yes, I know the mine, and I have met your father," said Maurice
Vane.

They walked to a hotel, and there Joe and his young western friend told
their stories, to which Maurice Vane listened with keen interest. The
gentleman was shocked to learn of the sudden death of Caven and Malone.

"It was certainly a sad ending for them," said he. "But, as Badger says,
they had nobody but themselves to blame for it."

Maurice Vane was extremely glad to get back his mining shares and
thanked Bill Badger warmly for what he had done.

"Don't you mention it," said the young westerner. "I'm going to hunt up
dad now. When you get time, call and see us."

"I'm coming up soon, to find out about that Bill Bodley," said Joe.

As late as it was Joe listened to what Maurice Vane had to tell.

"Now that Caven and Malone are gone I do not anticipate further trouble
at the mine," said the gentleman. "I am in practical possession of all
the shares, and shall have a clear title to the whole property inside of
a few weeks."

When Joe told him what Bill Badger had had to say about a certain man
called Bill Bodley he was much interested.

"Yes, you must find out about this man at once," said he. "I will help
you, as soon as certain matters are settled."

The next morning proved a busy one and Joe got no time to call upon Bill
Badger's father. He visited the mine and looked over it with interest.

During the middle of the afternoon he went back to town on an errand
for Mr. Vane. He was passing a cabin on the outskirts when he heard loud
words and a struggle.

"Let me go, you ruffian!" cried a weak voice. "Leave that money alone!"

"You shut up, old man!" was the answer. "The money is all right."

"You are trying to rob me!"

Then there was another struggle, and suddenly a door burst open and a
man leaped into the roadway. At sight of him Joe came to a halt. The
fellow was Bill Butts, the man who had tried to swindle Josiah Bean.

"Stop him!" came from the cabin. "He has my gold!"

"Stop!" cried Joe, and ran up to Butts. The next moment man and boy
tripped and fell, but, luckily, our hero was on top.

"Let me go!" growled the man.

"So we meet again, Butts!" cried Joe.

The man stared in amazement and then began to struggle. Seeing this, Joe
doubled up his fists and gave him a blow in the nose and in the right
eye, which caused him to roar with pain.

"That's right!" came from the doorway of the cabin. "Give it to him!
Make him give me my gold!"

"Give up the gold," ordered Joe.

"There it is!" growled Bill Butts, and threw a buckskin bag towards
the cabin. The man from within caught it up and stowed it away in his
pocket.

"Shall I call a policeman?" asked Joe.

"I don't know," said the man from the cabin. He wore a troubled face and
had white hair and a white beard. "It may be--Wha--where did you come
from?" he gasped.

"Where did I come from?" asked Joe.

"Yes! yes! Answer me quickly! You are--you must be a ghost! I saw you in
my dreams last week!"

"I don't understand you," said Joe, and arose slowly to his feet, at
which Bill Butts did likewise and began to retreat. "I never met you
before."

"No? It's queer." The man brushed his hand over his forehead. "Yes, I
must be dreaming. But I am glad I got my gold back."

"So am I, but the rascal has run away."

"Never mind, let him go."

"What makes you think you've seen me before?" questioned Joe, and his
breath came thick and fast.

"I--er--I don't know. You mustn't mind me--I have queer spells at times.
You see, I had a whole lot of trouble once, and when I get to thinking
about it--" The man did not finish.

"May I ask your name?" asked Joe, and his voice trembled in spite of his
efforts at self-control.

"Sure you can. It's Bill Bodley."

"William A. Bodley?"

"Yes. But how do you happen to know my full name?"

"Did you once own a farm in Millville, Iowa?"

"I had a farm in Iowa, yes. It was Millville Center in those days."

Joe drew closer and looked at the man with care and emotion.

"Did you ever have a brother named Hiram Bodley?"

"I did--but he has been dead for years."

"No, Hiram Bodley died only a short time ago," answered Joe. "I used to
live with him. My name is Joe Bodley. He told me I was his nephew."

"You his nephew! Hiram Bodley's nephew! We didn't have any brothers or
sisters, and he was a bachelor!"

"I know he was a bachelor. But I don't know--" Joe paused.

"He told me Joe died, at least I got a letter from somebody to that
effect. But I was near crazy just then, and I can't remember exactly how
it was. I lost my wife and two children and then I guess I about lost
my mind for a spell. I sold out, and the next thing I knew I was roving
around the mountains and in rags. Then I took to mining, and now I've
got a mine of my own, up yonder in the mountains. Come in and talk this
over."

Joe entered the cabin and sat down, and William Bodley plied him with
questions, all of which he answered to the best of his ability.

"There was a blue tin box I had," said he, presently, "that contained
some documents that were mine."

"A blue tin box!" ejaculated Joe. "Hiram Bodley had it and it got lost.
I found it a long time afterwards and some parts of the documents were
destroyed. I have the rest in my suit case at the hotel."

"Can I see those papers?"

"Certainly."

"Perhaps you are my son, Joe?"

"Perhaps I am, sir."

They went to the hotel, and the documents were produced. Then William
Bodley brought out some letters he possessed. Man and boy went over
everything with care.

"You must be my son!" cried William Bodley. "Thank heaven you are
found!" And they shook hands warmly.

He told Joe to move over to the cabin, and our hero did so. It was
a neat and clean place and soon Joe felt at home. Then he heard his
father's tale in detail--an odd and wonderful story--of great trials and
hardship.

"There will always be something of a mystery about this," said William
Bodley. "But, no matter, so long as I have you with me."

"Uncle Hiram was a queer stick," answered Joe. "I suppose if he was
alive he could explain many things." And in this Joe was correct.

Let us add a few words more and then draw our tale to a close.

When Joe told Maurice Vane how he had found a father the gentlemen was
much astonished. So were the Badgers, but all were glad matters had
ended so well.

It was found that William Bodley's mine was a valuable one. The ore in
it was about equal to the ore in the mine owned by Maurice Vane, and
this was likewise equal to that in the mine run by Mr. Badger.

After some conversation on the subject it was agreed by all the
interested parties to form a new company, embracing all the mines.
Of the shares of this new concern, one-third went to Maurice Vane,
one-third to the Badgers, and one-third to William Bodley and Joe. The
necessary machinery was duly installed, and to-day the new company is
making money fast.

On the day after his trouble with Mr. Bodley, Bill Butts disappeared
from town. But a week later he was arrested in Denver and sent to jail
for two years for swindling a ranchman.

During the following summer Joe received a visit from his old friend
Ned, and the two boys had a delightful time together. In the meantime
Joe spent half of his time at the mine and half over his books, for he
was determined to get a good education.

For a long time William Bodley had been in feeble health, but with the
coming of Joe on the scene he began to mend rapidly, and was soon as
hale and hearty as anybody. He was an expert miner, and was made general
superintendent for the new company.

To-day Joe has a good education and is rich, but come what may, it is
not likely that he will forget those days when he was known as "Joe the
Hotel Boy."