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Jack Ranger's Western Trip; Or, from Boarding School to Ranch and Range

by Clarence Young · English · Gutenberg #7496 · 355,311 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Jack Ranger's Western Trip; Or, from Boarding School to Ranch and Range

Author: Clarence Young


        
Release date: February 1, 2005 [eBook #7496]
                Most recently updated: December 30, 2020

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7496

Credits: Charles Franks


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JACK RANGER'S WESTERN TRIP; OR, FROM BOARDING SCHOOL TO RANCH AND RANGE ***




Charles Franks




[Illustration: THE THREE RIFLES SOUNDED AS ONE.]




JACK RANGER'S WESTERN TRIP

Or

From Boarding School to Ranch and Range


BY

CLARENCE YOUNG




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

     I. FUN AT WASHINGTON HALL
    II. JACK IN TROUBLE
   III. A THREATENING LETTER
    IV. A LESSON IN CHEMISTRY
     V. TURNING THE TABLES
    VI. A PLAN THAT FAILED
   VII. FOILING A PLOT
  VIII. THE BURGLAR SCARE
    IX. NAT'S INVITATION
     X. A MEETING WITH CHOWDEN
    XI. A GRAND WIND-UP
   XII. HO! FOR THE WEST
  XIII. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE
   XIV. PROFESSOR PUNJAB'S TRICK
    XV. SHOOTING AN OIL WELL
   XVI. MR. POST'S ADVENTURE
  XVII. THE WILD STEER
 XVIII. THE OLD STOCKMAN
   XIX. A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
    XX. A STRANGE SEANCE
   XXI. FINDING ORION TEVIS
  XXII. JACK HEARS OF HIS FATHER
 XXIII. ON THE RANCH
  XXIV. THE OLD MAN
   XXV. THE COWBOY'S TRICK
  XXVI. JACK'S WILD RIDE
 XXVII. THE CATTLE STAMPEDE
XXVIII. HUNTING MOUNTAIN LIONS
  XXIX. LOST ON THE MOUNTAIN
   XXX. A VIEW OF GOLDEN GLOW
  XXXI. JACK AND NAT PRISONERS
 XXXII. THE ESCAPE
XXXIII. DOWN THE SLUICEWAY
 XXXIV. JACK'S GREAT FIND
  XXXV. THE ROUND-UP--CONCLUSION




CHAPTER I

FUN AT WASHINGTON HALL


"Now then, are you all ready?" inquired a voice in a hoarse whisper.

"Galloping grasshoppers! We're as ready as we ever will be, Jack
Ranger!" replied one from a crowd of boys gathered on the campus of
Washington Hall that evening in June.

"Nat Anderson, if you speak again, above a whisper," said Jack
Ranger, the leader, sternly, "you will have to play 'Marching Through
Georgia' as a solo on a fine tooth comb seven times without
stopping!"

"Sneezing snakes! 'Nuff said!" exclaimed Nat, this time in the
required whisper. "Playing combs always makes my lips tickle."

"Now then, is every one ready?" asked Jack again. "If you are, come
on, for it's getting late and we'll have to do this job quick and be
back before Dr. Mead thinks it is time to send Martin the monitor
after us. Forward march!"

Then the crowd of boys, from the boarding school of Dr. Henry Mead,
known as Washington Hall, but sometimes called Lakeside Academy, from
the fact that it was on Rudmore Lake, in the town of Rudmore, started
forth on mischief bent.

It was Jack Ranger's idea,--any one could have told that. For Jack
was always up to some trick or other. Most of the tricks were
harmless, and ended in good-natured fun, for Jack was one of the
best-hearted lads in the world. This time he had promised his chums
at the academy something new, though the term, which was within a
month of closing, had been anything but lacking in excitement.

"Fred Kaler, have you got your mouth organ with you?" asked Jack,
turning to a lad just behind him.

"He always has his mouth-organ, or how could he speak?" asked an
athletic looking lad walking beside Jack.

"That's a poor joke, Sam Palmer," commented Jack, and he ducked just
in time to avoid a playful fist Sam shot out.

"Want me to play?" asked Fred.

"Play? You couldn't play in a hundred years," broke in Nat Anderson,
Jack's best chum. "But make a noise like music."

"Play yourself, if you're so smart!" retorted Fred.

"Simultaneous Smithereens!" cried Nat, using one of his
characteristic expressions. "Don't get mad. Go ahead and play."

"Yes, liven things up a bit," went on Jack. "Give us a good marching
tune. We're far enough off now so none at the Hall can hear us."

Fred blew a lively air and the score of boys behind him began to
march in step.

"What is it this time?" asked Sam in a low tone, of Jack. "You
haven't let on a word."

"We're going to administer a deserved rebuke to a certain character
in this town," Jack answered. "You've heard of Old Smelts, haven't
you?"

"That fellow who's always beating his wife and hitting his little
girl?"

"That's the old chap. Well, I heard he just got out of the lock-up
for being too free with his fists on the little girl. Now if there's
anything that makes me mad it's to see a kid hurt, girl or boy, it
doesn't matter. I've got a surprise in store for Mr. Smelts."

"What is it?"

"You've heard of the Klu-Klux-Klan, I suppose?"

"You mean that southern society that made such a stir during the
Civil War?"

"That's the one. We're going to be Klu-Klux-Klaners to-night."

"But we haven't got any uniforms."

"You'll find them in yonder wood!" exclaimed Jack in tragic tones,
and he pointed to a clump of trees just ahead.

"What's this, amateur theatricals?" asked Nat, catching the last
words.

"Maybe," replied Jack. "Now Fred you can pay off your orchestra," he
added. "I want to do a little monologue."

The boys crowded around Jack, and he told them what he had related to
Sam.

"I have provided the necessary uniforms to enable us to take the part
of Klu-Klux-Klaners," he said. "Old Smelts is a southerner and knows
the significance of the thing. We'll throw a good scare into him, and
maybe he'll let his wife and daughter alone. Now we're to put on the
sheets and the tall white helmets, and you leave the rest to me. Do
just as I do when we get to Smelts's house."

"Hemispheres and hot handkerchiefs!" exclaimed Nat. "This is going
some!"

Jack went to the foot of a big hollow tree, from which he pulled a
large bundle. This he opened and showed a number of ghostly uniforms.
He distributed these among the boys, who at once donned them, making
a weird looking band in the little glade.

"Every one stand still until I put the finishing touches on,"
commanded Jack.

With a bottle of phosphorous he outlined waving flame lines around
the holes cut for eyes, nose, and mouth on each white-shrouded
figure,

"Now we're ready," announced the leader. "Smelts's house is just
beyond this wood. Follow me, and, Fred, when you see me put my hand
on my head that means I want slow tremulous music, like they have in
the theater when, the heroine is dying."

"Your wishes shall be obeyed," spoke Fred, in hollow tones, whereat
the others laughed.

"Silence!" commanded Jack.

It was a good thing those in charge of Washington Hall could not see
the pupils just then. If they had the prank would have cost the
participators dear. But, after all, as Jack said, it was in a good
cause. On they went until their leader held up a warning hand.

"Arrange yourselves in a circle about me," he whispered. "I am going
to beard the lion in his den."

He walked up to a small cottage that stood some distance from any
other dwellings on a lonely street in the village, and knocked
loudly.

"Who's there?" came a voice, in answer, a few seconds later from an
upper window.

"Tobias Smelts, come forth!" called Jack in deep tones. "We would hold
speech with thee!"

The boys could see a man thrust his head further out of the casement.

"Come forth and linger not!" called Jack.

"Oh! Oh! It's the Klu-Kluxers! It's the Klan! They're after me!"
exclaimed Smelts. "Oh, what shall I do?"

"Come forth if ye would not have us drag ye out!" cried Jack. "We
have business with thee!"

"What'll I do?" wailed Tobias.

"Better go 'fore they come in here after ye," a woman's voice could
be heard to say. "Remember what they did to Pete Baker in South
Caroliny!"

The head was drawn in, with many a groan.

"Get ready, he's coming," whispered Jack.

A few minutes later a very much frightened man, clad in his shirt and
trousers came out on the front steps, around which the boys in their
ghostly disguise were gathered.

"Advance!" commanded Jack, and Tobias, his knees trembling, walked on
until he stood in the midst of the frolicking students.

"Bind him to the stake!" commanded the leader.

A small, pointed stake had been prepared and with a hammer it was
driven into the ground. Then the man was fastened to it with several
coils of clothes line.

"Now the faggots!" said Jack, and the boys dropped some pieces of
wood at the victims feet. A second later Jack had emptied the phial
of phosphorous over the wood, and the lurid light shone forth.

"They're burning me alive!" yelled Tobias. "Save me!"

"This is the fate dealt out to all who beat their wives and
children!" chanted Jack. At the same time he raised his hand to his
head and Fred played tremulous music on the harmonica, lending a
weirdness to the scene.

"Please don't kill me, good Mr. Klu-Klux-Klan men," begged Tobias.
"I'll never do it again. I promise you I never will!"

"Do you promise by the great seal of the United States?" inquired
Jack, in sepulchral accents.

"Yes, Oh yes; I'll promise anything!"

"'Tis well! This was but the first trial by fire. The next time will
be more severe!" and with that Jack kicked aside the phosphorous
covered sticks and signaled to those holding the ends of the ropes to
loosen them.

Tremblingly Tobias crawled into the house.

"Be ye dead, Tobias?" asked his frightened wife, yet she was not a
little gratified that her husband had made the promise the mysterious
visitors exacted.

"Jest about," was the answer. "Oh, this is a terrible night!"

"Hence, my brave men," spoke Jack solemnly. "We have work elsewhere.
But remember, Tobias Smelts, if thou dost so much as raise a finger
to a woman or child we shall hear of it through our ghostly messengers
and will visit thee again."

"I'll be good! Oh, I'll be good!" promised Tobias.

Then at a nod from Jack the white-robed figures filed away into the
darkness, Fred playing a dirge.

"Say, that was the best sport yet," said Sam, when they were at a
safe distance.

"Yes, and it was a good thing," said Jack. "That old codger'll not
beat his wife any more, I reckon."

And it might be said in passing that he did not for a while. The
visit of the masquerading Klu-Klux-Klan was a most effective remedy,
and the whole village wondered what had cured Tobias temporarily at
least, of his bad habit.

"Say, but you're all right," remarked Bob Movel to Jack, as the boys
rid themselves of the costumes in the woods a little later.

"Towering tadpoles! I should say he was!" exclaimed Nat. "What will
you do next?"

"I guess we'd better be getting back to the Hall," said Jack.
"Professor Grimm might take a notion to sit up late and spot us."

While the boys were slipping quietly back to their rooms, having
enjoyed a night's fun, which also had its useful side, we may take
this opportunity of introducing them more formally to the reader.

Those who read the first volume of this series, entitled "Jack
Ranger's Schooldays; Or, The Rivals of Washington Hall," need not be
told how it was that our hero and his friends came to be at that seat
of learning. Jack was a bright American lad, who lived with his three
maiden aunts, Josephine, Mary and Angeline Stebbins, in the village
of Denton. Jack was to inherit some money when he became of age, but
the conditions under which it was to come, as well as the secret of
who his father was, bothered him not a little.

In the first volume of the series I told of his life in Denton, and
the lively times he and Nat Anderson had before they were sent to the
Academy. There things were even more lively, and there occurs a sort
of sequel to a strange occurrence that happened in Jack's town.

At Denton, one night, Jack saw a man rob a jewelry store, but the
only thing he took, as it developed, was a strange ring. It was one
with a big moss agate, with the outline of a pine tree on it, and a
lot of emeralds and rubies set around its center. This ring belonged
to Jack's aunts, who had sent it to the jeweler's and when Jack told
his relatives of the theft, and described the appearance of the man,
they were much excited. However, they would tell him nothing.

At the academy, after many other adventures, including aiding and
abetting the fighting of a mock duel between Professor Garlach, the
German teacher, and Professor Socrat, the French instructor, Jack
made the acquaintance of one John Smith, a half-breed Indian who had
come to the academy for instruction. John had considerable Indian
blood in his veins, as he proved on more than one occasion.
Nevertheless, he and Jack Ranger became great chums.

One day John Smith disappeared. His friends found that his room had
been entered at the school, and there were evidences of a hurried
search having been made. Nat discovered, in John's absence, a curious
ring under a steam radiator. It was the exact counterpart of the one
the burglar stole in Denton. Jack was much puzzled at this, and more,
when it developed that John had been kidnapped by some mysterious
men. At last the semi-Indian lad was saved by Jack and Nat.

John Smith told Jack as much of the secret as he knew. It appeared
that his father had given him the ring just before his death, and
told him if he was ever poor or in trouble to take it to a man named
Orion Tevis, and state who the bearer was.

Some time before that, the elder Smith had been in Oregon and Tevis
came to him to get him to be a guide to a wild forest country in the
far north. There he had bought five thousand acres of valuable land.
Some schemers had stolen the papers connected with it and were making
for the place, to take possession first, as that would give them a
sort of title.

Tevis was too sick to make the journey himself, and got Smith to go
with some of his own companions. John's father took a man named Clark
and one called Roberts with him. Mr. Roberts, or Robert Ranger, which
was his real name, was Jack's father. Because of some strange
circumstances he had not seen his son in many years.

Roberts, for so he was known many years, Clark, and Smith succeeded
in claiming the land for Tevis. He gave them each ten thousand
dollars for their work and had three rings made as mementoes. They
were like the one stolen from the jewelry store.

In addition Tevis said that at any time the men or their relatives
needed his help they could have it.

Clark, later, was killed, John Smith's father retired on his little
fortune and Jack's father got into trouble. It seemed that the land
schemers offered him a large sum to help them contest Tevis's title.
He refused, but learned that, if they could get him into court, they
could throw the timber claim into litigation, and force Tevis to pay
a large sum to compromise. Rather than do this Roberts told Smith he
would become a wanderer over the earth.

Mr. Ranger sent his money to his sisters, Jack's aunts, for the use
of his son, and then disappeared. He knew that if he could evade
legal service for eleven years he would be free, and that was why he
never sought to see his boy or sisters.

The Indian student believed that the man who stole Jack's aunts'
ring, and those men who made an unsuccessful attempt to get his,
thought they could, by use of the emblems send two boys, pretending
to be Jack and John to Tevis, and get a lot of money from him.

John Smith's only knowledge of Tevis was that his address could be
secured from the Capital Bank, at Denver, Colorado, and that he was
somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, in retirement. Jack having heard
this story, resolved that he and John Smith, would, some day, go in
search of Mr. Ranger. However, Jack's aunts said he must finish his
term at the academy, and this time was nearly up.

The students returning from their adventure were now approaching
Washington Hall, and walking quietly along. Jack and John Smith were
in the lead, and the others were strung out behind them.

Suddenly around a bend in the road there swung a big touring
automobile. No lights were on it, and only for the subdued roar of
the motor the car's approach would not have been noticed. As it was,
Jack did not see it until it was almost upon him.

"Look out!" cried John Smith suddenly.

At the same time he sprang forward and pushed Jack to one side. To do
this he had to get almost in the path of the car, and was struck by
one of the projecting springs. He was knocked to one side, but not
before he had pushed Jack out of harm's way, the latter being hit
only a glancing blow.

"Why don't you look where you're going?" called an angry voice, as
the car sped on.

"Are you hurt, John?" cried Jack, springing to pick up his friend.

"No, only bruised. They have nerve to go running without lights and
then ask us where we're going. I wonder who they were."

"I have an idea." said Jack. "That voice sounded like Adrian
Bagot's."

"What, that sporty new student?"

"That's who."

"Well, he'd better go a bit slow, I'm thinking."




CHAPTER II

JACK IN TROUBLE


The boys crowded around Jack and John, anxious to know if they were
hurt. All were loud in their indignation when they learned what had
happened.

"Let's pay that snob back!" suggested Dick Balmore.

"Make him sleep with you one night," suggested Fred, for Dick was so
tall and thin that he had been christened "Bony" by his chums.

"Dry up!" exclaimed Dick. "I'd rather be thin than a wandering
minstrel like you."

"Easy now!" suggested Jack. "No noise, we are too near quarters.
Ouch! I think I've sprained my ankle, or that auto did it for me."

He tried to walk but had to limp, and was forced to accept the aid of
Sam and John, on whose arms he leaned. In this manner he entered the
Hall just as the monitor was closing up for the night. The other boys
slipped to their rooms, but Jack had to be helped upstairs.

As the trio were passing through the corridors they met Professor
Grimm. Now, Mr. Grimm was an old enemy of Jack's, since Jack had once
caught him smoking, a violation of the school rules.

"Ha! More skylarking!" the instructor exclaimed. "What does this
mean, Ranger?"

"I sprained my ankle," replied our hero.

"What are you doing out at this hour? And what are the others doing?"

"We had permission to go to the village," replied Jack, truthfully
enough, for Dr. Mead had allowed the boys to go; though the object of
the trip, of course, had not been disclosed to the master.

"Go to your rooms," commanded Professor Grimm. "I will look into
this."

"I wish he hadn't seen us," said Jack, when his two chums had taken
him to his dormitory.

"Why?" asked Sam. "Where's the harm?"

"I have a sort of queer feeling that something is going to happen,"
Jack replied. "I want to finish out the term with a good record, for
my aunts' sakes. If there are any pranks played tonight, Grimm will
be sure to suspect me."

"Don't cross a bridge until it trips you up," said Sam. "Now, let's
have a look at that ankle."

They found it was not as bad as Jack had feared.

"I've got a bottle of arnica somewhere," he said. "I think I'll put
some on."

His chums found the bottle, and were rubbing the swelling with the
medicine when there came a knock at the door.

"Who's there?" asked Jack.

"Professor Grimm," was the reply. "I want to see if you are really in
your room."

Sam opened the door and the cross-grained professor entered.

"So you're not fooling this time, eh?" he sneered, as he smelled the
arnica and saw the swelling on Jack's ankle. "It's a good thing you
were not."

"Nice old party, isn't he?" murmured Sam, when the teacher had
withdrawn. "Well, I think I'll say good-night, Jack. Hope you sleep
good. Say, but that Klu-Klux business was the limit!" and chuckling
over the night's fun, he went to bed, leaving Jack and the Indian
student together.

"A few weeks more and we'll not have to sneak around this way to have
a little fun," said Jack. "Vacation will soon be here. I hope I can
carry out a plan I have in mind, John."

"What is it, Jack?"

"I want to go out west and search for my father. I ought to be with
him in his trouble. Besides, the time must be almost up, so he could
come back to civilization again."

"I hope you do find him," said the semi-Indian.

"I wish you could help me, John."

"I wish so, too. Perhaps I can. But you'd better get to bed now. We
don't want Grimm coming around again."

Jack fell asleep dreaming he was crawling through a deep canyon after
his father, who was being carried away captive in a birch bark canoe
by Indians. But in spite of this he slept so soundly that he did not
hear a number of unusual noises under his window. Perhaps it was as
well for his peace of mind that he did not.

It was about half past seven o'clock the next morning when Jack awoke
with a start.

"I wonder what's the matter," he said to himself. "It seems as if
something had happened. Oh, I know, I haven't heard the morning
bell."

It was the custom at the academy to awaken the students by ringing
the big bell in the tower every morning, and Jack had come to depend
on it as a sort of alarm clock.

"I wonder what's the matter," he went on. "Can Martin have forgotten
to sound the tocsin? It's the first time he ever slipped up."

A little later there came the sound of persons moving in the hall,
and then voices could be heard calling one to the other.

He got out of bed, finding that his ankle was much better and looked
from the window. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. He
turned toward his door, just as a loud knock came on the portal.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Martin, the monitor," was the reply. "Dr. Mead wants to see you at
once in the office."

"Trouble! I knew it!" exclaimed Jack to himself. "Well, I wonder what
it is now. Hope word of that Klu-Klux-Klan business hasn't reached
here already. But I'm not afraid of that. Even Dr. Mead will admit we
acted from a right motive. All right, Martin," he called. "I'll be
there as soon as I dress. Anything special?"

"I'm afraid it is," replied the monitor, as he hurried down the hall.

Jack made a hasty toilet and then went to the office of the head of
the academy. He found a number of the teachers gathered there,
including Professor Grimm, who looked more angry than usual. The
latter was speaking as Jack entered:

"This positively has to stop, Dr. Mead," he said. "I will put up with
this no longer. Either Ranger or I must leave."

"What have I done now?" asked Jack.

"Something more serious than usual, Ranger, if it turns out that you
are guilty," answered Dr. Mead.

"Of course he's guilty," burst out Mr. Grimm. "Haven't I proof?"

"Last night," said Dr. Mead, speaking slowly and sternly, "the big
bell was taken from the tower. It was carried and placed in front of
Professor Grimm's room, and tied to his door so that when he opened
it the bell was pulled into his room. In this way some valuable sea
shells he had on the floor were broken."

"What makes you think I did it?" asked Jack. "I was laid up with a
sprained ankle."

"That's just how I know it was you and some of your chums," cried
Professor Grimm. "Tied on the bell, where it had been used, so the
sharp edge would not cut one's fingers, was this rag. There it is.
Smell of it. What does it smell like?" and he thrust it under Jack's
nose.

"Why--why--it smells like arnica," replied our hero, wondering what
was coming next.

"Arnica! Yes, I guess it does. What was it you were pretending to put
on your ankle last night, Ranger? Arnica, wasn't it? Of course it
was. I've caught you this time! The evidence is all against you! You
didn't think you dropped that rag, and that the arnica would figure
in the evidence. Dr. Grimm, I repeat, Ranger must leave or I shall!"




CHAPTER III

A THREATENING LETTER


For a few seconds there was a silence following Professor Grimm's
ultimatum. Jack was so surprised he did not know what reply to make.
The suddenness of the accusation, with the experience of the night
before, and the upset over his sprained ankle, combined to make him
hesitate before he made answer.

"What have you to say, Ranger?" asked Dr. Mead, in a sterner voice
than he had ever before used toward Jack. "I know you will tell the
truth, for I have never yet known you to lie. But I must tell you
that if I find that you are guilty it will go hard with you this
time. I have put up with a good deal from the students, but this is
too much."

"I--I don't know what to say, sir," replied Jack, in a sort of daze.
"I'm not guilty, I can assure you of that!"

"It's one thing to say so and another to prove it," snapped Professor
Grimm. "The evidence is all against you."

"It's all circumstantial," interrupted Jack.

"But rather conclusive," went on the irate professor. He detailed how
he had seen Jack and his friends out late, how he had come upon them
using arnica, and mentioned some of their pranks in the past,
including the mock duel arranged between Professor Socrat the French
teacher and Professor Garlach, the German instructor.

"I admit I have played pranks in the past," said Jack frankly, "but
I'm not guilty this time. All I ask is a chance to prove that I had
no hand in this."

"You don't deserve a chance!" exclaimed Mr. Grimm.

"That's hardly fair," spoke Jack indignantly.

"Don't talk back to me!" burst out the angry teacher.

"I think your request is a fair one, Ranger," went on Dr. Mead. "I
will give you twenty-four hours in which to prove that you had no
hand in this. That is all now; you may go."

Dr. Mead was a man of few words, but Jack knew he would be absolutely
fair. So, bowing to the head of the school, and without a glance at
his accuser, Jack left the office.

"Whew!" exclaimed the youth, as he got outside. "I seem to be up
against it harder than ever. Twenty-four hours to prove something
that may take a week. Well, I've got to get busy, that's all."

"Hello!" exclaimed a voice as Jack was walking along the corridor
toward his room. "Whasmatternow? Betcher Ic'nguess!" and the voice
evolved itself into a good-natured looking lad, who stretched a big
wad of gum from his mouth, and slowly got it back again by the simple
but effective process of winding it about his tongue.

"Hello, Budge Rankin!" exclaimed Jack, as he saw the queer, bright
lad who had lived near him in Denton, and for whom Jack had secured
the place of second janitor at the school. "So you think you know
what the trouble is?"

"Betcherlife," replied Budge, who had a habit of running his words
together, a habit which his gum-chewing did not tend to relieve.

"What is it?"

"Accused you takin' that bell," went on Budge more slowly. "Hu!
Wanterbe a detective?"

"How did you know it?" asked Jack, a little surprised at Budge's
remark.

"Easy. Heard 'em talk. Transom open," was his answer.

"What do you mean about me turning detective?"

"Lookerthis," Budge said, quickly holding out a small object to Jack.
"Found it in Grimm's room, 'sIsweptout."

"You found it in Mr. Grimm's room as you swept it out?" inquired
Jack, not certain he had heard aright.

"'Smatter!" exclaimed Budge, that being his short-hand way of stating
that was what was the matter.

"A spark plug from an automobile," mused Jack. "Well, that doesn't
seem to give me much of a clue."

"Gotermobe?" asked Budge.

"No, of course I haven't an automobile," replied Jack.

"Knowoas?"

"Do I know who has? Why--By Jove! I believe I see what you mean. Say,
it's lucky you found this. I'll turn detective for awhile now. I
wonder how this got into Grimm's room."

"Rolled under door, I guess," replied Budge, speaking more rationally
as he threw away his cud of gum. "From hall, maybe."

"That's it!" exclaimed Jack. "I see it now. Thanks Budge. I hope I
succeed. I'm much obliged to you."

"'Sallright!" exclaimed Budge, as he hurried away to attend to some
of his duties.

When Jack got back to his room he found quite a gathering of his
chums there.

"In for it on account of that Klu-Klux business?" asked Sam Chalmers.

"Not exactly that," answered Jack, "though if I'd stayed at home It
wouldn't have happened."

"Ha-ha-ha-has it g-g-gg-got anything t-t-t--" began Will Slade.

"Whistle it!" exclaimed Bony Balmore.

"Sing it!" came from Fred Kaler. "Here I'll help you out," and he
began to play on his harmonica.

"Whole-wheat-whangdoodles!" cried Nat Anderson, "but tell us, Jack.
Don't keep us in suspense."

"It's the bell," said Jack. "I'm accused of taking it down and
putting it in Grimm's room. They found a rag with arnica on it near
the ding-dong, and Old Grimm jumped to the wrong conclusion, basing
his belief on what he saw here last night in the first-aid-to-the-
injured line. I've got until to-morrow to prove that I didn't do it."

"We can prove it easily enough," said Sam.

"Not so easily as you think," spoke Jack. "Grimm saw us out late, you
remember, and if all of you joined in saying it wasn't I who did it,
they wouldn't believe you. I guess they want to make an example of
someone. No sir, I'm going to do some sleuthing on my own hook. I've
got a good line and a bit of evidence to start with. I'm pretty sure
I can make some folks around here sit up and take notice about this
time to-morrow."

"Good for you, Jack!" exclaimed Dick. "If you want any help call on
us!"

"Thanks," replied Jack. "Now I guess we'd better get ready for
breakfast."

His chums left him to complete his dressing, and, when they were
gone, Jack carefully laid aside the spark plug Budge had given him.

"First link," he said.

During the noon intermission Jack had a short but earnest talk with
Socker, the school janitor. The latter nodded his head vigorously
several times during the conversation.

"I'll get it for you," he said as he and Jack parted.

At the close of school that afternoon the janitor went to Jack's room
with a large bundle.

"Any trouble?" asked our hero.

"Not a bit," replied Socker. "He was out and I found it rolled up in
a corner, just where he had thrown it. He hasn't even cleaned it."

"So much the better," said Jack, as he gave Socker a small sum of
money. "I'll keep quiet about this, don't worry."

"I hope you will," the janitor went on. "It's against the rules for
me to do what I did, but I want to oblige you, and have you come out
all right."

"Which I think I will," Jack added.

When he was alone he opened the bundle Socker had brought. It was a
linen duster, and, as Jack saw several brown spots on it he uttered
an exclamation of satisfaction.

With his knife he scraped some substance from the garment, and placed
the particles in a test tube. Then, taking this with him, he went to
the laboratory, where he remained for some time.

Late that afternoon Jack, who had avoided his chums, took a walk
around the campus. As he came near a small building, where some of
the students kept their motor cycles, one or two small automobile
runabouts, and a few of the more well-to-do, their ponies, Jack
assumed a slow and halting gait. He seemed to be limping from the
effects of his sprained ankle.

"I wonder if he's around," he muttered to himself. "Socker said he
was going to take a spin this afternoon, and it's about time for him
to start, by all accounts."

As Jack neared the entrance to the combined garage and stable he saw
a group of students approaching from an opposite direction. His limp
became more decided than before.

"He's there!" he said softly to himself.

"Hello, Ranger!" exclaimed a number, as Jack passed them. He knew
them fairly well, but was not intimate with them as they belonged to
the "fast set," a good-enough crowd, but lads who had more spending
money than was good for them.

"Hello!" called Jack in reply.

"What's the matter?" came several inquiries as the students noticed
Jack's limp.

"Turned on my ankle," was the reply. "A bit stiff yet."

The crowd had nearly passed by this time, and, owing to the fact that
Jack had the middle of the sidewalk, and did not turn to one side,
the little group separated. Some went on one side, and some on the
other. Just as Jack came opposite a tall, elaborately dressed youth,
he seemed to stumble. To save himself from falling Jack threw out his
hand and caught the tall student on the wrist. As he did so the well-
dressed youth uttered a cry.

"Clumsy! You hurt my sore wrist!"

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Jack, struggling to recover his
balance, but still keeping his hold of the other's hand. "Awfully
careless of me!"

There was quite a little jostling among the students, several trying
to help Jack recover his balance. Then Jack straightened up.

"I'm all right now," he said. "I bore down on it a little too hard."

He limped on, thrusting one hand hurriedly into his pocket. As he did
so, the tall student cried.

"There! I've lost the rag off my sore wrist! I sprained it cranking
my auto yesterday."

Several of his companions began a search for it, but as Jack hurried
on, as fast as he could, while still pretending to limp painfully he
said to himself:

"I guess you'll look a long while, Adrian Bagot, before you find that
rag. Maybe I can get even with you for running me down last night,"
and Jack pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket and smelled of it.

"That's the evidence!" he exclaimed, as he turned down a side street.

Whether it was this change, or whether it was because his ankle
suddenly healed, was not in evidence, but Jack began to walk with
scarcely the semblance of a halt in his step as soon as he was out of
sight of the students.

The lad hurried back to his room. There he spent a busy half hour,
poring over some books on chemistry. He got several test tubes, and
his apartment took on the appearance of a laboratory, while many
strange smells filled the air.

While Jack was engaged in pouring the contents of one test tube into
another there came a knock at his door.

"Who's there?" he called.

"It's me, Sam," was the reply.

"Say, Sam, excuse me, but I can't let you in," Jack answered. "I'm
working on something that I can't leave. I may have a surprise for
you in the morning."

"All right," Sam answered. "Here's some mail, that's all. I'll shove
it under the door."

There was a rustling of paper and several letters came beneath the
portal. Jack laid aside his test tube and gathered them up. One was
from his aunts at home, another from Judge Bennetty regarding the
payment of certain bills Jack had contracted, while the third was in
unfamiliar handwriting.

"I wonder who that's from," said Jack. "The best way to find out is
to open it."

He ripped the envelope down, and, as he did so, a piece of paper
fluttered to the ground. Picking the missive up, Jack read:

"It's a long lane that has no turns. I'll get even with you for
having me suspended and sent away from the Hall. My time will come
yet.

"Jerry Chowden."

"Jerry Chowden," murmured Jack. "So he's trying to scare me, eh? Well
I guess he'll find I don't scare."

Jack slowly folded the letter and placed it back in the envelope. He
glanced at the postmark, and saw it was stamped "Chicago."

"Wonder how he got out there," he mused. "Well, I'm glad he's far
away," and he gave little more thought to the matter of the bully, a
nephew of Professor Grimm's, whose vain attempt to cast disgrace on
Jack, in the matter of painting a pipe on the professor's portrait,
had rebounded on his own head. He had been suspended for two months
for the escapade, which Jack was accused of, but which our hero
managed to prove himself innocent of, and, since leaving the Hall,
nothing had been heard of him.

"Maybe I'll meet him if I get out west on that strange hunt of mine,"
thought Jack, as he went on with his chemical tests.

He worked far into the night, and when he put out his light he said
to himself:

"I think I've got things just where I want them."




CHAPTER IV

A LESSON IN CHEMISTRY


Jack was awakened next morning by a knock on his door.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Martin, the monitor," was the reply. "Dr, Mead wishes to see you at
once."

"Great Scott! I've overslept!" exclaimed Jack, as he jumped out of
bed and saw it was after eight o'clock. "No wonder, being up half the
night. Tell Dr. Mead I'm sorry and I'll be right down," he went on.

Jack almost made a record for dressing, and went to Dr. Mead's
office, where he found the same gathering that had confronted him the
previous morning.

"Well, Ranger," began the head of the school, "the time you asked for
has expired. Have you anything to say?"

"I have, sir," replied Jack. "But first I would like to request that
this hearing be adjourned to the laboratory. I also request that Sam
Chalmers, Dick Balmore, Fred Kaler, Budge Rankin and Adrian Bagot be
summoned."

"Do you accuse all of them?" asked Dr. Mead, in some astonishment.

"I accuse no one," Jack replied. "I want to make a demonstration, and
let the facts speak for themselves."

"This is all nonsense!" exclaimed Professor Grimm. "This boy is
guilty and he knows it. He is only seeking to delay matters. I demand
his expulsion!"

"I think it only fair to grant his request," said Dr. Mead.
"Professor Gales, will you kindly summon the students mentioned.
Professor Hall, please see that the laboratory is opened."

In a few minutes Jack was leading the way to the latter room. He
carried several bundles, while Socker, the janitor, bore a rack of
test tubes he had taken from Jack's room. The lads mentioned
attended, wondering what had happened.

"What's this all about?" demanded Adrian, haughtily. "I haven't had
my breakfast yet."

"The time was up an hour ago," said Dr. Mead sharply, glancing at the
new student, who seemed disposed to take life as easily as possible.

"May I speak?" asked Jack, of Dr. Mead.

"Since you are the accused it is but fair that you be given a chance
to clear yourself," was the reply. "But as you have given a certain
publicity to this matter, I shall tell these other students what it
is all about."

Dr. Mead then explained the charge against Jack. There was an uneasy
movement among the other boys, and Adrian Bagot was seen to shift
about. He even started to walk around as though to leave the room,
but the monitor stood at the door and Adrian did not want to make any
confusion by forcing past him. So young Bagot remained in the
laboratory.

"When Professor Grimm accused me of playing this trick I denied it,
as I am innocent," Jack said, when Dr. Mead had finished and looked
at him as if inviting him to speak. "Perhaps if the matter has been
made public the fellows who took the bell would have come forward and
admitted it. As it is I asked twenty-four hours to prove that I did
not do it. I believe I have succeeded.

"In the first place," Jack went on, "I wish to exhibit this garment,"
and he held up to view a long linen coat, commonly called a duster.
"You will observe," he went on, "that there are several brown lines
on it. I have measured these and they are exactly the shape and size
that would be made by the sharp rim of a bell, if it was rested on
the garment when some one was wearing it."

"You will have to have better evidence than that," sneered Professor
Grimm.

"I think I will have," announced Jack quietly. "Of course those marks
might have been made by any sharp, rusty object. Now the bell metal
rusts scarcely at all, but the iron clapper of a bell does. The rust
from that runs down inside a bell, and gets on the edges. I took some
iron rust from the clapper of the stolen bell and placed it in a test
tube. I assumed, for the purpose of experimenting, that I did not
know that it was iron rust, but only suspected it. I applied the
proper chemical tests, and I got the results that showed me there was
iron present in the test tube. Here, I will show you."

Jack mixed a few chemicals and soon the brown mixture in the tube
turned red.

"That is from the bell clapper," the young chemist went on. "Here is
a solution made from scraping the lines on the duster. I will apply
the test and see what happens."

While the others looked on anxiously Jack dropped some of the mixture
into the second tube. In an instant it turned red.

"There!" exclaimed Jack, holding up the two tubes, side by side. "The
same color coming in both mixtures from the same strength of
chemicals that I used, shows that the iron rust on the duster and
that on the bell clapper are the same."

"What does that prove, except that you might have worn the duster?"
asked Dr. Mead.

"That is all, as yet," Jack admitted. "But I will prove that the
duster is not mine, and that I never wore it. I have something else
here," he went on.

From among a pile of things on the laboratory table Jack took a white
object, with brown spots. Walking rapidly across the room he handed
it to Adrian.

"The rag off my sprained wrist!" exclaimed the sporty student. "Where
did--"

Then he stopped, seeming to realize he had said too much.

"I will ask Professor Grimm to smell of that," Jack continued,
thrusting the rag under the teacher's nose.

"Arnica!" exclaimed the instructor. "The same that you used, and
which enabled me to discover it was you who played the trick."

"It is arnica," Jack admitted, "but it happens I was not the only one
who used it that night. I have also to show this article, which was
picked up in your room, Professor Grimm," and Jack extended the spark
plug Budge had given him.

"Ha! What is that?" asked Mr. Grimm.

"It is some part of an automobile," Dr. Mead said. "Who, of our
students, has one. Ah! I begin to see," he added.

"Adrian Bagot, I will return your duster to you," Jack went on,
walking forward and passing the rust-stained automobile garment to
young Bagot. "I had to borrow it from your room, but I am through
with it now. You may also have your spark plug, and this rag I had to
take from your wrist rather unceremoniously last night."

"You're a thief!" burst out Adrian, but Jack stopped him with a
gesture.

"I'll not take that from you or any one else," exclaimed Jack. "Dr.
Mead," he went on, "I ask that you inquire of my friends, Sam
Chalmers, Dick Balmore and Fred Kaler when they last saw Adrian in
his auto."

"When did you?" Dr. Mead asked the boys.

"The night the bell was stolen," answered Sam, and the others agreed
with his testimony. Jack told the story of the collision and how his
ankle was injured.

"Is there anything else?" asked Dr. Mead.

"I think not," was our hero's answer, "unless Bagot has something to
say."

"So you did it, eh?" asked Professor Grimm, turning to the new
student. "I demand that he be punished, Dr. Mead," and Mr. Grimm did
not even take the trouble to beg Jack's pardon for having falsely
accused him.

"What have you to say, Bagot?" asked the head of the academy.
"Circumstances point strongly to you,"

Bagot mumbled something about it being only a harmless joke, and
seemed quite confused.

"I will not ask you to tell on your companions," Dr. Mead went on
sternly. "There must have been several of them. If they choose to
come forward and admit their part, well and good. I will go no
further with this, since the chief culprit is known. Ranger, you are
fully vindicated, and I congratulate you on the effective manner in
which you have proved your innocence."

"As for you, Bagot, seeing that it is your first offense, I will be
lenient. I will suspend you for one week, and you are to make up all
the studies you lose in that time. That is all."

With a scowl on his face, and an angry look at Jack, Adrian shuffled
from the laboratory. The teachers followed Dr. Mead out, while Jack's
friends gathered around to congratulate him.

"Didn't know you were such a chemist," spoke Sam.

"I'll have to play a march of victory on the jew's-harp and mouth
organ at the same time!" burst out Fred Kaler.

"Well," admitted Jack, "it came out about as well as I expected."

"Betcherwhat!" exclaimed Budge, as he walked off, stretching his gum
out at arm's length.

The news soon spread that Jack had been vindicated, and there was an
impromptu celebration in his room.

"Lopsided lollypops!" exclaimed Nat Anderson. "We ought to do
something to get even with Bagot, Jack."

"Oh, I'm satisfied, let it go as it is." "But we're not," Sam
Chalmers put in. "You got vindicated all right, but an insult to you
is one to all this crowd you travel with. I'll bet Dr. Mead has a
sort of idea that some of us had a hand in the joke. We may not be
able to prove we didn't, but we can get even with that sneak Bagot
for making all the trouble."

"L-l-l-lets puncture h-h-h-is t-t-t-t-ti--" sputtered Will Slade.

"What's that about his necktie?" asked Sam with a grin.

"W-w-w-who s-s-s-said n-n-neck t-t-ti-?"

"I thought you were trying to, and I wanted to help you out," replied
Sam.

"I-I-I-I ni-m-m-meant his autototototo--"

"Toot-toot!" sung out Fred. "All aboard! Where does your train stop,
Will?"

"I know what you mean," put in Jack, coming to Will's relief. "But I
don't want to do anything like bursting his auto tires. That's not my
way."

"We can easily enough find a plan," Sam went on. "Will you join us,
Jack?"

"You know I'm always ready for anything that's going."

"Then I'll try and think up something," Sam concluded. "But we'd
better hustle now. Chapel bell will ring in five minutes."




CHAPTER V

TURNING THE TABLES


For several days after this there were review examinations so that
all the students at the academy were kept busy, and there was little
time for anything but study. At the end of the week Adrian Bagot
returned from his period of suspension. He did not seem to have
suffered much, and the boys heard him boasting of having ridden
nearly a thousand miles in his auto.

One evening Sam and some of his chums paid a visit to Jack Ranger.

"Got anything on to-night?" asked Sam.

"Nothing special, why?"

"Well, I'll not tell you the particulars, and then, if anything
happens you can truthfully say you never knew a thing about it. But
if you want to see something, put on an old pair of slippers, so you
can walk through the corridors softly, and follow us."

"Some fun?" asked Jack.

"Well, we wouldn't go to all this trouble if it was work or study,"
replied Sam with a grin. "But say nothing, only saw wood and come
on."

Jack, nothing loath, did as he was told. He got an old pair of felt
slippers, and noticed that the others were also wearing similar foot-gear.

"First to Professor Socrat's room," whispered Sam when the boys,
including Will Slade, Fred Kaler and Bony Balmore were out in the
corridor.

"He's not going to fight a duel with Professor Garlach, is he?" asked
Jack, recalling an occasion when the two teachers nearly did.

"Not this time," replied Sam, "but there may be a fight in it."

With Sam in the lead the boys went to the room of the French
professor.

"Now stay back in the shadows," advised the leader. "You can see and
listen, but keep quiet."

Sam knocked on the door, and, in his most polite tones said:

"I was asked, my dear professor, to leave this with you with the
compliments of the sender."

"Ah, I zank you extremely, sir," said Professor Socrat, bowing low,
"I zank ze giver, an' I zank you for ze most polite attention you
have bestowed on me."

"You are very welcome, I'm sure," murmured Sam, as he hurried away to
join his waiting comrades.

"I don't see anything funny about that," said Jack.

"Wait until he opens it," whispered Sam.

A few seconds later the hidden boys heard the door of the French
teacher's room open, and saw him come out.

"It is some meestake," they heard him murmur. "Zis ees for Professor
Grimm. I will take it to heem," and he walked along the corridor
toward the elderly instructor's apartment.

"Act one," whispered Sam. "Now for the second."

Silently in their slippers the boys followed the French professor to
Mr. Grimm's room.

"What is it?" asked the latter when the Frenchman had knocked.

"I come wiz a package, left by mistake wiz me," Mr. Socrat remarked,
in his usual polite way. "It is addressed to you inside, but ze
outside wrapper was wiz my name inscribed. I ask your pardon."

"Thanks," said Mr. Grimm shortly, as, with a polite bow, Mr. Socrat
went back to his room.

Professor Grimm left his door open a little way, and the boys could
see him quite plainly. They saw him take off the wrapper, and
disclose a small white box. This he opened and, as he took the cover
off, there dropped out something that gave a musical clang.

"A bell!" exclaimed Jack in a whisper.

"Hush!" cautioned Sam. "Let's hear what he says."

"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Grimm. "So this is a joke, eh, Mr. Frenchman?
Well, we'll see about this!"

He grasped the bell, which was a small one, by the handle, and
started down the corridor, a scowl on his face, as the boys could see
by a flickering gaslight, as they were hidden around the corner.

"Now back to Mr. Socrat's room for the third act," said Sam. "Come
on."

Without the formality of a knock, Mr. Grimm entered the French
teacher's room.

"So this is your idea of a joke, eh?" he cried, shaking the bell
under Professor Socrat's nose. "I'll report you to Dr. Mead for this.
You frog-eater you!"

"Sir-r-r-r!" fairly shouted Professor Socrat. "You call me a frog-
eater-r-r-r-r?"

"Yes, and a donkey also!" exclaimed Mr. Grimm. "You knew how I've
felt since that bell joke, and you dare to send me a miniature one!"

"I sent nossing!"

"Didn't I see you just bring this?" demanded Mr. Grimm, holding out
the bell.

"It was addressed to you on ze paper!"

"Yes, and you did it!"

"I did not!"

"I say you did!"

"Zen you mean zat I tells a lie?"

"If you want to take it that way!"

"Zen I say you also are one who knows not ze truth!"

"Don't call me that name or I'll--"

What the excited professor meant to say was not disclosed as, at that
moment, in shaking his fist at Professor Socrat he let slip the bell,
which, with a clang struck the French teacher on the chest.

"A blow! I am insult!" Mr. Socrat exclaimed. "It must be wiped out
wiz ze blood of my insulter!"

He caught up a book to throw at Mr. Grimm, and let it fly, just as
Adrian Bagot entered the room. The sporty student caught it full in
the face.

"Pardon, my dear young friend!" exclaimed the French teacher, seeing
his missile had gone wide of one mark, though finding another.

"What does this mean?" demanded Adrian, as he saw the two
belligerents.

"Leave the room, sir!" ordered Professor Grimm. "This is none of your
affair!"

"I was asked to come here," said Adrian.

"Ha, so this is another part of your plan to play a joke on me,"
cried Mr. Grimm, glaring at the Frenchman. "You ask this student, who
was responsible for the original trouble to come here to see a
repetition."

"Your talk, it ees of ze incomprehensible!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat. "I
have sent for no one."

"I got a note, signed with your name, asking me to call at your room
at eight o'clock," said Bagot.

"Hold me, some one, before I die laughing," whispered Sam to his
chums. In fact they were all laughing so that only the excitement on
the part of the three in Mr. Socrat's room prevented the boys from
being discovered.

"Let me see ze writing," said the French teacher.

Adrian showed it to him.

"I nevair wrote that, nevair, nevair, nevair!" exclaimed the
representative of France.

"But you brought me the bell," put in Mr. Grimm.

"I did, because your name, it was on ze covair of ze box. I not write
heem."

"Then if you didn't, who did?" asked Mr. Grimm.

"I am no readair of ze mind," replied the Frenchman.

"I'll bet it is one of Jack Ranger's tricks," said Adrian. "It is
just like him."

"Are you sure you had no hand in it?" asked Mr. Grimm suspiciously,
turning to Bagot.

"You don't think I'd risk another suspension with graduation so near,
do you?" asked Bagot.

"I guess you're innocent this time," admitted Mr. Grimm unwillingly.
"If I discover who did this I'll settle with him."

"You've got to catch 'em first," murmured Sam.

"Well I guess I'll go," went on Mr. Grimm.

"I have been insult, I demand satisfaction," said Mr. Socrat, drawing
himself to his full height and glaring at the other teacher. "Will
you name a friend, sir, to whom I can send my representative?"

"You--you don't mean to fight a duel, do you?" asked Professor Grimm,
nervously.

"Of a certainly yes! I have been struck! I have been insult! I must
have ze satisfaction!"

"If it comes to that so have I," said Adrian, rubbing his face where
the book had hit him.

"I have apologized to you. I beg your ten thousand pardons, my young
friend," said Mr. Socrat, bowing low. "I know when I am at fault. It
was all an accident. Still, if you demand satisfaction I am bound to
give it you. I will send ze--"

"Oh, I accept your apology," said Adrian, hastily.

"But I have been called ze eater of ze frogs, an' I have been struck
by--by a--person!" exploded the Frenchman. u I must see ze blood
flow, or--"

"Oh, I'll apologize, if it comes to that," said Mr. Grimm, rather
awkwardly. "I didn't mean to hit you with the bell. As for calling
you names, why--why I was all excited. I beg your pardon."

"Zen you have made ze amend honorable, an' I accept it," said the
Frenchman, bowing almost to the floor. "We will regard ze incident as
closed."

"I'll not, by a long shot," murmured Bagot. "I want satisfaction from
whoever got me into this and I'll find out sooner or later."

"Mostly later," murmured Sam.

"Where did you get the package?" asked the sporty student of Mr.
Socrat.

"It was brought to me a little while ago, by one of ze students. It
was dark in ze hallway and I could not see ze face of heem."

"Luck for me," murmured Sam.

"I see my name on ze wrappair," went on Professor Socrat. "Zen I open
it an' I see ze name of Mr. Grimm. I go to heem. Ha! Zings begin to
what you call happen--after zat!"

"Vamoose!" whispered Sam. "I guess we've seen all the fun. They'll
disperse now. Everyone to his room and undress. Be studying in bed.
If there's an investigation we can't be accused."

A little later the boys heard Professor Grimm tramping to his room,
muttering dire vengeance on his tormentors. They heard him open his
window and throw something out. It fell with a tinkle to the ground.

"The bell," whispered Sam, as he hurried to his room.

"How did you manage it?" asked Jack an hour or so later when Sam had
entered his chum's apartment, matters having quieted down.

"It was too easy," explained Sam. "I did up the bell, and left it
with Socrat. I purposely addressed it double. I figured out what
would happen. Then I sent a fake note to Bagot, telling him Socrat
wanted him. It came out better than I expected."

"I hope there's no trouble over it," Jack said.

There was none, for neither of the professors cared to have the facts
made public, and Bagot did not want to let it be known that he had
been fooled.




CHAPTER VI

A PLAN THAT FAILED


One afternoon Dr. Mead announced that there would be an evening
lecture, in preparation for final examinations, and he stated that he
expected every student to be present.

"The only excuse that will be accepted for non-attendance," he said,
"will be illness. As there are no students sick now, I shall regard
with grave suspicion any reports of indisposition between now and the
time for the lecture."

"What do you say to a swim?" asked Sam, of Jack, as they filed out
from the auditorium where Dr. Mead had made his announcement.

"I'll go," replied Jack. "Any of the other fellows going along?"

"Dick, Nat and Bill Slade are coming," said Sam. "I left them going
for their suits. Come on."

"Wait until I get mine," spoke Jack, and he hurried off, to join Sam
a few minutes later.

On the way to a quiet spot in Rudmore Lake, where the boys were in
the habit of taking their swimming exercises, Jack and Sam were
joined by the others.

"Did you hear the latest?" asked Bony Balmore, making his anatomy
rattle in a way peculiar to himself.

"No, what is it?" asked Jack.

"Two new students arrived," went on Bony. "They're chums of Sport
Bagot's I guess, 'cause I saw them walking with him."

"Who are they?" asked Sam.

"Ed Simpson and John Higley," replied Sam. "I heard they were regular
cut-ups, and got fired out of one school. Their guardians sent them
here to finish the term. I s'pose they'll try some funny work."

"L-l-l-l-et 'em t-t-t-try it!" spluttered Will. "I-i g-g-g-guess we
c-c-c--"

"Oh, whistle it!" exclaimed Sam.

"Pzznt!" exploded Will, which seemed to get his vocal cords in shape
again. "We'll fix 'em if they try any tricks!"

"Now you're talking," said Jack.

The boys lost little time in getting into the lake. They were
splashing about in the water, when Jack, who happened to swim near
shore, was startled by a cautious hail. He looked up, to see Budge
Rankin half hidden in the grass, making signals to him.

"What is it?" asked Jack.

"Geasynow!" exclaimed Budge, in a hoarse whisper, tossing aside a wad
of gum that he might talk more plainly.

"Go easy about what?" asked Jack.

"They're going to play a trick on you," said Budge.

"Who?" inquired Jack, while the other boys, attracted by the
conversation drew near.

"Adrian Bagot and the two new students," went on Budge. "They're on
their way here. Goin' t' steal your clothes an' make you late for th'
lecture. I heard 'em talkin' about it. Thought I'd warn you.
'Sthmatterithfoolinem?" Budge had taken a fresh chew of gum, which
accounted for the way in which he inquired what was the matter with
fooling the enemy.

"True for you!" exclaimed Sam. "How we going to do it?"

Jack pondered a moment, idly splashing the water with his opened
hand. Then he exclaimed:

"I have it! How long before they'll be here, Budge?"

"'Bout ten minutes I reckon."

"Long enough. Come on boys."

"What you up to?" asked Nat.

"Say nothing but follow me," was all Jack replied.

He scrambled up the bank to where he had left his clothes. Catching
up the garments into a bundle he placed them further along the bank,
on a little bluff that overlooked the edge of the lake. The clothes
were in plain sight.

"They'll see them there," objected Fred.

"That's what I want," Jack replied. "Do as I do."

Wondering what was up the others obeyed. Jack then ran to a small
boathouse, close to the swimming place, and returned with three long,
thin ropes, used to tie the craft to the dock.

For a few minutes Jack's fingers flew nimbly. Then he placed three
rope circles, hiding them well in the grass, each one just in front
of each of the three piles of clothes. He carefully carried the long
ends of the ropes down the bank and into the water.

"Oh, I see!" exclaimed Sam, with a chuckle. "Say, this is great!"

"Now, Budge," said Jack, when he had finished his preparations. "You
hide in the bushes. When you think it's time, you toss a stone into
the water. Do you understand?"

"Betcherlife!" replied Budge, shortly.

"Get down under the bank, then, fellows," said Jack to his
companions. "Keep well in shore, and when you hear the stone splash,
pull. That's all!"

"But they may take our clothes," objected Will, who did not seem to
understand.

"I don't believe they will," replied Jack, grimly.

The boys entered the water again, and, crouched close under the bank,
sinking down so that only the tip of their noses were above the
surface. It was almost impossible to tell they were there.

Had any one been up on the bank a few minutes later he would have
observed three lads come creeping along, as if they were afraid of
being seen. Adrian Bagot was in the lead.

"I don't see them" spoke one of the trio.

"Keep quiet, Ed Simpson," cautioned Adrian. "That Ranger chap has
sharp ears. Do you see 'em, John?"

"There's their clothes in little piles, just ahead," replied John
Higley. "They couldn't have left 'em better for us. Come on; we'll
hide 'em, and then we'll see what happens."

"Guess they won't be so fresh after this," spoke Bagot.

Slowly the trio crept forward. Well might Jack and his chums worried
for the fate of their garments had they seen the three conspirators.
But Budge was on the watch.

Just as the three sneaks were about to reach down and gather the
swimmers' clothes, a stone sailed through the air, and fell with a
splash into the water. An instant later there was a wild scene on the
bank.

Three youths went flying toward the edge of the lake as though
propelled by unseen hands. They seemed to have ropes attached to
their legs, ropes which were being pulled from below.

Then three well-dressed lads were struggling in the water, while five
other youths stood up in the shallows looking on.

"I guess we turned the tables that time," remarked Jack.




CHAPTER VII

FOILING A PLOT


"Save me! Save me!" yelled Adrian Bagot.

"I'm drowning!" screamed Ed Simpson.

"I'm sinking!" shouted John Higley.

The three conspirators were floundering about in the water. Because
of the rope nooses about their feet their efforts to stand upright
were not entirely successful.

"Who did this?" inquired Bagot angrily, as he tried to get rid of a
mouthful of water.

"If--if I-I die they'll hang for this!" spluttered Ed Simpson.

"No danger of your drowning, you're too mean," said Jack. "Besides
it's only up to your knees. Stand up and wade out."

By this time the three lads, their clothing dripping with water, had
managed to stand upright. They reached down under the dancing
wavelets and loosened the nooses.

"You'll pay for this, Jack Ranger," shouted Adrian, shaking his fist
at our hero.

"All right, I'm ready whenever you are," was the cool answer. "Come
on, fellows, we don't want to be late for the lecture," and he
started from the water, followed by his chums.

"I'll have you arrested for damaging my clothes," exclaimed Ed.

"And I suppose you'd tell on the witness stand about what you
intended to do to ours," went on Jack. "I guess you'll cry 'quits,'
that's what you'll do. You tried to play a trick on us, but you got
left. So long. Don't miss the lecture."

He scrambled ashore, his comrades doing likewise, while the three
lads who had taken such an unexpected bath waded out as best they
could. They were sorry looking sights.

"But I don't exactly un-d-d-d-erstand how it it h-h-h-appened?"
stuttered Will, who had not had hold of one of the ropes.

"I just made slip nooses, and placed them where they'd have to step
into them before they could lay hands on the clothes," explained
Jack. "Budge gave me the signal when they were inside the ropes."

"And then we just pulled," put in Nat. "Wow! It was a corker, Jack!
How did you think of it?"

"It just happened to come to me. Say didn't they come down off that
bank sailing, though?"

"I pulled as if I was landing a ten pound pickerel," said Fred. "I
wonder who I had."

"Didn't stop to notice," Jack said, as he slipped on his coat. "They
all came together. What a splash they made!"

By this time the three conspirators had crawled up the bank. They
were so soaking wet that it was hard to walk. Their shoes "squashed"
out water at every step. They sat down on the grass, took them off,
and removed some of their garments, which they proceeded to wring
out.

"Better hurry up," advised Jack, as he finished dressing. "Lecture
begins in about two hours, and you're quite a way from home."

"I'll--" began Ed Simpson, when Adrian stopped him with a gesture.

"Sorry we have to leave you," Sam went on. "If you'd sent your cards
we would have had the water warmed for you. Hope you didn't find it
too chilly."

The three cronies did not reply, but went on trying to get as much
water as possible from their garments. Leaving them sitting on the
grass, as the afternoon waned into evening, the swimmers hurried back
to the academy.

When the roll was called at the evening lecture, which was at an
early hour, Jack and his friends replied "here!"

For a week or more after the episode at the lake, matters at the
academy went on in a rather more even tenor than was usual. One night
Sam, who finished his studying early went to Jack's room.

"Boning away?" he asked.

"Just finishing my Caesar," was the reply. "Why, anything on?"

"Nothing special," replied Sam. "Do you feel anything queer in your
bones?"

"Not so much as a touch of fever and ague," replied Jack with a
laugh. "Do you need quinine?"

"Quit your fooling. I mean don't you feel as if you wanted to do
something?"

"Oh I'm always that way, more or less," Jack admitted. "I'm not
taking anything for it, though."

"I'd like to take a stroll," said Sam. "I think that would quiet me
down. I feel just as if something was going to happen."

"Probably something will, if we go out at this hour," Jack said.
"It's against the rules."

"I know it is, but it wouldn't be the first time you or I did it.
Come on, let's go out. Down the trellis, the way you did when you
discovered Grimm smoking."

"I don't know," began Jack.

"Of course you don't," interrupted Sam. "I'll attend to all that.
Come on."

Needing no more urging, Jack laid aside his book, turned his light
low, and soon he and Sam were cautiously making their way from Jack's
window, along a trellis and drain pipe to the ground.

"There!" exclaimed Sam, as he dropped lightly to the earth. "I feel
better already. Some of the restlessness has gone."

"Keep shady," muttered Jack. "Some of the teachers have rooms near
here."

They walked along under the shadow of the Hall until they came to a
window from which a brilliant light streamed forth. It came from a
crack between the lowered shade and the casement. It was impossible
to pass it without seeing what was going on inside the apartment. At
the same time they could hear the murmur of voices.

"Adrian Bagot, and his two cronies up to some trick!" whispered Jack,
as he grasped Sam by the arm.

The two friends saw the three new students bending over a table,
containing a pot of something, which they seemed to be stirring with
a long stick.

"What are they up to?" whispered Sam.

"Experimenting with chemicals, perhaps," said Jack.

"Don't you believe it," retorted Sam. "They're up to some game, you
can bet. I wonder if we can't get wise to what it is."

Cautiously they drew nearer to the window. They found it was open a
crack.

"Will it make much of an explosion?" asked Ed Simpson.


"Hardly any," replied Higley. "Only a puff and lots of smoke, but it
will leave its mark all right, and I guess those fresh friends of
Jack Ranger's will laugh on the other corner of their mouths."

"I'd like to get even with them before the term closes," put in
Adrian.

"We'll do it all right," went on Ed.

"Don't be too sure of that," whispered Jack.

It did not require much effort on the part of Jack and Sam to
understand what the three conspirators were up to. Their
conversation, which floated through the opened window, and their
references to certain localities put the two listeners in possession
of the whole scheme.

"Well, if that isn't the limit," said Jack in a whisper. "I wouldn't
believe they'd dare to do it."

"How can we foil their plans?" asked Sam.

"Hark, some one is coming," said Jack, dropping down on his hands and
knees, an example which Sam followed. Then came a cautious signal, a
whistle.

"It's John Smith, my Indian friend!" exclaimed Jack. "He must have
just got back," for the half-breed had been away for a few weeks, as
one of his relatives was ill. Jack sounded a cautious whistle in
reply, and soon the Indian student was at his side. There were
hurried greetings, and Jack soon explained the situation.

"Let me think it over a minute," said John Smith. "It takes me rather
suddenly."

For a few seconds John remained in deep thought. Then he exclaimed:

"I think I have it. Have you any chemicals in your room, Jack?"

"Plenty," was the answer. "I've been boning on that lately, and I got
a fresh supply from the laboratory the other day to experiment with."

"Then I think we'll make these chaps open their eyes."

The three friends hurried to Jack's room, where they were busy for
some time, behind carefully drawn shades. At the end of about two
hours, Jack, who had been keeping watch from a window, exclaimed:

"There they go with the stuff. It's time we got a move on."

"They'll not set it off until midnight," spoke Sam, "That's what they
said. We'll have time enough to do what we are going to."

The three friends worked hurriedly. When they had finished they had
several packages. Down the trellis they went and out on the campus,
which was shrouded in darkness.

They made their way to the foot of a statue of George Washington,
which stood on a broad base in front of the school. There stood the
Father of His Country, with outstretched arms, as if warning invaders
away from the precincts of learning.

"They've been here!" said Sam in a whisper.

He pointed to some straggling black lines at the base of the figure,
and to a thin thing like a string: which led over the grass toward
the room of Adrian Bagot.

"They've put our initials in powder here," said Jack. "Trying to
throw the blame on us when it goes off."

"We'll soon fix that," replied Sam. The three boys made some rapid
movements around the statue, and then cut the thin thing which led to
the room of young Bagot.

"I guess when he touches off that fuse he'll wonder what has
happened," observed John Smith.

"Have you enough of the other fuse?" asked Jack.

"Plenty," replied the Indian student. "Have you changed the
initials?"

"Every one," said Sam.

"Then I think we can go back," said John. "Take care of my fuse.
Don't get tangled up in it."

The boys made their way quietly to a spot just under the window of
Bagot's room. There they placed what seemed to be a piece of board.

"Now back to your room, and wait until they start the fun," said
John.

The three friends had not long to wait. A little after midnight they
heard Bagot's window cautiously open. There was the sound of a match
striking, and then Sam called to Jack:

"Let her go!"

A second later a thin trail of fire spurted along
 the ground from the sporty student's room. It was followed by a
larger one from the foot of the trellis by which Jack had descended.
A few seconds later it seemed as if a Fourth of July celebration was
in progress.

Sparks of fire ran along to the statue of the first President. Then
there was a puff of smoke, and in front of the hero of the Revolution
there shot up dancing flames.

At the same time there sounded several sharp explosions, as though
the British were firing on the Minute Men at Lexington, and the
latter were replying as fast as they could load and discharge their
flintlocks.

Windows began to go up here and there, and heads were thrust forth.

"What is it?" "What's the matter?" "Are there burglars?" were some of
the cries.

Brighter now burned the fire at the foot of the statue, which was
enveloped in a cloud of flame and smoke, and, had the original been
alive he must have delighted in the baptism of gunpowder.

Then there came a louder explosion. It was followed by a shower of
sparks, and a trail of sparks began running along the ground, toward
the college.

An instant later there blazed forth on a board as on an illuminated
sign, in front of the room of Adrian Bagot the words in letters of
fire:

WE DID IT.

Underneath, in smaller characters were the initials;

"A.B. E.S. J.H."

"Wait until Dr. Mead sees that," said Jack, as he looked out on the
campus, which was now a scene of brilliancy.




CHAPTER VIII

THE BURGLAR SCARE


The whole academy was now aroused. Several students and teachers, in
scanty attire, had come from their rooms and were hurrying down to
see if the place was on fire. For several minutes the blazing words
and initials shone out amid the darkness. Then they died away in a
shower of sparks, and windows could be heard being put down.

"That's excitement enough for one night," remarked John Smith. "It
succeeded better than I thought it would."

"That was a great idea," said Jack.

"Glad you think so," the Indian went on.

"I've seen soldiers at the Canadian forts play all sorts of tricks
with gunpowder and slow fuse so I just adopted some of them. It was
easy enough, after they laid the powder train, with the initials of
you, Sam, and Bony, to change them into a general serpentine twist
with their initials in the midst of it. By ramming some of the powder
down into the holes in the foundation it exploded with quite a
noise."

"Lucky you had those chemicals in your room, Jack, or I'd never been
able to make that board with the words 'We did it' on and stick it up
in front of Adrian's window. I used part of their own long fuse, and
it was a good one."

"Seemed to do the work all right," agreed Sam.

"It sure did," observed Jack. "I wonder what they thought when they
saw the fire coming their way?"

"Hush! Here comes some one!" exclaimed Sam. and the boys put out
their light, which was burning low.

"It's Dr. Mead; I know his step," said Jack.

"I'll bet he's on his way to Bagot's room," spoke Sam. "Cracky! I'm
glad it isn't me."

"It's only good luck it isn't!" put in Jack. "If we hadn't gone out
they might have exploded their powder, and, in the morning our
initials would have been found at the bottom of the statue, burned in
the stone."

A little later loud talking was heard from the direction of Adrian's
room. It quieted down, after a while. But there was a strenuous
session at chapel the next morning, and Adrian and his cronies were
given extra lessons to do.

For a week or more after this all the students had to buckle down to
hard study, as the annual examinations were approaching. Jack and his
chums had little time for sports of any kind, as they had a number of
lessons to master in addition to their regular work. But by diligence
they kept up with the requirements, and, about two weeks before the
time set for the closing of the school, they found themselves on even
terms.

"I'm ready for some fun," announced Jack, one evening. "I've been
good and quiet so long I can feel my wings sprouting."

"Better go easy," cautioned John Smith.

"I'm going to; as easy as I can," replied Jack. "But I've got to do
something or break loose."

"Shivering side-saddles!" exclaimed Nat Anderson. "Let's have a
burglar scare."

"How?" asked Sam.

"I'll think of a plan," Nat went on. "Howling huckleberries, but I
too am pining for a little excitement, Jack."

"Well, trot out your plan," Jack said. "We haven't got much time."

"Let me think a minute," begged Nat, and, while he assumed an
attitude as though he was trying to solve a problem in geometry, Fred
drew out a little tin fife and played such a doleful air that Nat
cried:

"How do you expect me to think with that thing going?" and, with a
quick grab he snatched it from Fred's hand and sent it spinning
across Jack's room.

"I have it!" Nat exclaimed, when the excitement had somewhat
subsided. "You all know what timid creatures Professors Gale and Hall
are. They room together, and I believe they'd scream if they saw a
mouse. Not that they're a bad sort, for they have both helped me a
lot in my lessons. But men ought not to be such babies. Now what's
the matter with a couple of us disguising ourselves as burglars and
going into their rooms about midnight? The rest of us can hide and
hear the fun."

"Maybe they'll shoot," suggested Sam.

"Shoot! They'd be afraid to handle a revolver," was Nat's comment.

"Well, as long as it won't do any real harm, and as we positively
have to have something happen, let's go on with it," said Jack.
"Who'll be the burglars?"

"Nat'll have to be one," spoke John Smith, as he proposed it."

"Ll-l-let me be t-t-the o-o-o-other," said Will Slade haltingly.

"What? And when you demand their money or their lives how would you
say it?" asked Sam.

"Nice sort of a burglar you'd make. 'G-g-g-give m-m-m-me y-y-y-your
m-m-mon--'"

Sam stopped suddenly and dodged back, as Will aimed a blow at him. In
doing so he stumbled over a pile of books and went down in a heap.

"Serves you right," said Jack. "Just for his making fun of Will I
vote we elect Will as one of the burglars."

The others agreed, even Sam, and Will regained his good nature.

"How about masks?" asked Sam.

"I'll make some," replied Jack, and, from some pieces of black cloth,
he quickly cut two false-faces.

"I-I-I-I've g-g-got t-t-t have a g-g-g-g--" came from Will.

"Are you trying to say a pair of gum shoes?" asked John Smith. "I'll
lend you a pair of moccasins."

"I guess he means gun," volunteered Nat. "But these will do just as
well," and he got a couple of nickel-plated bicycle pumps from a
drawer. "They'll shine in the dim light just like revolvers," he went
on.

"Guess I'll take a stroll down the corridor and see how the land
lies," said Jack. "We don't want to burglarize a room that has no one
in it, and they may not be in when the second story men get there."

"That's so, how are we going to get in?" asked Nat.

"Easy," replied Jack. "Their room is on the ground floor, and you can
just raise the screen up and drop in. They always leave their window
open a bit, as they're fresh air fiends."

While Jack went to take an observation, the two amateur burglars made
their arrangements. They turned their clothing inside out, and, with
the two pieces of black cloth across their faces, while ragged caps
were drawn down close over their foreheads, they looked the part to
perfection.

Jack soon returned, to report that the coast was clear, and that both
assistants were in the room.

"Gales is reading Shakespeare, and Hall is manicuring his nails," the
spy reported. "But it's too early yet. Let's go take a stroll and
about midnight will be the right time. We can hide in the bushes
opposite the room and hear 'em call for help. Then we can rush up and
pretend we came to the rescue. That will be a good excuse in case
we're caught watching the game."

Both assistants retired early, and the boys knew that twelve o'clock
would find them both sound asleep. After a stroll about the college
grounds, taking care not to venture into the light but keeping well
in the shadows, Jack announced it was the hour for the show to
commence.

"Better let Nat do the talking," Jack advised Will. "Have you got
anything to disguise your voice, Nat?"

"I can talk down in my throat."

"Better put a peanut in your mouth," Jack went on passing over
several. "That will make you sound more like a desperate villain."

Accordingly, Nat stuffed one of the unshelled nuts into his cheek,
and then, seeing that Will was ready, he led the way from the shadow
of the bushes toward the window of the room where the assistants
slept. It was a dark night, which was favorable to their plans.

As Jack had said, the only bar to entrance was a light screen in the
casement. Nat raised this, and, listening a few seconds, to make sure
the teachers were asleep, he crawled into the room.

Will followed him. For a moment after they had entered the boys did
not know what to do. They were unaware of the method of procedure
common among burglars. They were in doubt whether to announce their
presence, or wait until the sleepers discovered it.

Chance, however, took charge of matters for them. In moving about
Will hit a book that projected over the edge of a table. It fell
down, bounced against a cane standing in one corner, and the stick
toppled against a wash pitcher, making a noise as if a gong had been
rung.

"Now be ready to throw a scare into 'em!" whispered Nat to Will.
"That's bound to rouse 'em."

It did. They could hear the sleepers sitting up in bed. Then Mr. Hall
demanded:

"Who's there?"

"Don't move as you value your life!" exclaimed Nat, in his deepest
tones.

"We-we-we!" began Will forgetting the instructions to let Nat do the
talking. His companion, however, silenced him by a vigorous punch in
the stomach.

"We're after money!" Nat went on.

There was a sudden click and the room became illuminated. Mr. Hall
had pulled the chain that turned on the automatic gaslight. The two
teachers were sitting up in their beds, staring at the intruders.

Nat drew his bicycle pump, and Will followed his example.

"Money or your life!" exclaimed Nat, in dramatic accents.

"Why--why--I believe they're burglars!" cried Mr. Gales.

"The impudence of them!" almost shouted Mr. Hall. The next instant he
sprang out of bed and advanced on Nat and Will with long strides.
This was more than the boys had bargained for.

Seizing Nat, Mr. Hall, who proved much more muscular than his build
indicated, fairly tossed the boy out of the window. Fortunately he
fell on the soft grass and was only shaken up.

"Get out of here, you scoundrel!" exclaimed the athletic teacher,
making a rush for Will.

"D-d-don't h-h-h-hurt me!" pleaded the bold burglar. "I-I-I-I we--"

As Mr. Hall grabbed him the black mask came off and the instructor,
seeing the lad's face cried out:

"It's Will Slade!"

He was about to send the burglar flying after his companion, but this
discovery stopped him. At the same instant, the hidden crowd,
thinking it was about time to do the rescue act, had started forward.

"Keep back!" cried Nat. "It's a fizzle!" and he limped from under the
window as fast as he could.




CHAPTER IX

NAT'S INVITATION


The boys needed no other warning to make themselves scarce. They had
reckoned without their host in planning the trick on the two
teachers.

"Where's Will?" asked Jack of Nat.

"I guess they've caught him," the limping "burglar" said.

"That means trouble," put in Sam. "How did it happen?"

The conspirators were now some distance away from the Hall, and out
of hearing distance.

"It happened because they weren't the milksops we thought them," said
Nat; rubbing his elbow. "The way he grabbed me felt as if I was being
hugged by a bear."

"Then they didn't get frightened?"

"Not a bit. Came right at me."

The boys looked back. The brilliantly lighted window of the teacher's
room shone out plainly amid the blackness of the night. As the boys
watched, they saw a figure climb over the sill.

"There comes Will," spoke Sam.

"I wonder if they're not going to report us," said Jack. "Say, It
will be the first time a teacher didn't take an opportunity of
getting even."

As soon as Will found himself on the ground he set off on a run,
toward where he supposed his friends to be in hiding.

Jack gave the usual signal-whistle of his crowd, and Will, hearing
it, came up quickly.

"What happened?"

"Didn't he make a row?"

"Are they going to report it?"

"How'd you get away?"

These were some of the questions to which the throng of boys demanded
answers.

"I-I-I--c-can't t-t-tell h-h-h--."

"Here! you quit that!" exclaimed Jack sternly, thinking to frighten
Will out of his stuttering.

The rebuke had the desired effect, and, for once Will forgot to mix
his words and letters.

"When he saw it was me," he explained, "he didn't seem to know what
to say. Then he laughed and Gales laughed, and I felt pretty foolish;
I tell you.

"Gales asked me who was with me, but Hall cut in and said he didn't
want me to tell. I wouldn't anyhow, only it was white of him not to
insist."

"It sure was," murmured Jack. "Oh, I can see trouble coming our way."

"Well," went on Will. "He looked at me a little longer, and I heard
Gales mutter something about 'boys will be boys,' then Hall made a
sign to him, and Gales went back to bed."

"What did you do?" asked Jack.

"Why, Hall motioned to me to climb out of the windows and I did,
mighty quick, you can bet"

"Wait until chapel to-morrow morning," said Nat. "Maybe we won't get
it! Never mind, the end of the term is almost here, and they can't do
any more than suspend us. Though I hate to have the folks hear of
it."

There were several anxious hearts beating under boyish coats when the
opening exercises were held the next morning. The burglar schemers
watched the two assistants file in and take their usual places on the
raised platform.

"How do they look?" whispered Nat to Jack.

"Don't seem to have an awful lot of fire in their eyes," was the
answer.

"Wait until Dr. Mead begins," whispered Sam, a sort of Job's
comforter.

But to the boys' astonishment, there was no reference to the night's
prank. The exercises went off as usual, though every time Dr. Mead
cleared his throat, or began to speak on a new subject, there was a
nervous thrill on the part of the conspirators.

"I have one more announcement to make, and that will end the
exercises for the day," the head of the Academy said.

"Here it comes," whispered Jack.

"Will Slade and Nat Anderson are requested to meet Professors Hall
and Gales after chapel," was what the doctor said.

There was a little buzz of excitement among the students, for the
story of the escapade had become generally known.

"Glad I'm not in their shoes, but I suppose we'll all come in for
it," said Sam, as he and the others filed out of the assembly room.
Will and Nat remained, their spirits anything but pleasant.

Their companions stayed out on the campus, waiting for them, instead
of dispersing to their rooms to prepare for the first lesson period.
As the minutes dragged away there was a general feeling of
apprehension.

"Don't s'pose they'll get a flogging do you?" asked Sam.

"Against the rules of the institution," replied Jack.

"Here they come," announced Fred Kaler. "I don't know whether I ought
to play a funeral march or 'Palms of Victory.'"

"Probably the former," put in John Smith.

"Well?" asked Jack, as the two "burglars" came within hailing
distance, "what did they do to you?"

"It's all right!" exclaimed Nat. "Say, they're bricks all right,
Gales and Hall are! They took us to Dr. Mead's little private office,
and we thought sure we were in for it. I didn't know how they
recognized me until Gales gave me my handkerchief, which I had
dropped in the room. It had my name on it."

"Skip those details!" interrupted Sam. "Get down to business. Did
they fire you?"

"Not a bit of it," replied Nat. "They asked me if I was hurt in the--
er--the--jump I took from the window. I said I wasn't. They then made
some remarks about the night air being bad toward the end of the
term, and they told us to go to our classes. Not a word about it. I
call that white, I do."

"Right you are!" came in chorus from the others.

"We ought to send 'em a vote of thanks," suggested Sam.

"No, I think I'd let it rest where it is," came from Jack. "They want
to show that they could have made trouble if they wanted to. We'd
better let it drop. I wonder if Dr. Mead knows it?"

"I don't believe they told him," was Nat's opinion. "You see there
wasn't much of a row, and it was all over in a little while. But it
certainly is one on us."

To this they all agreed. Yet one good thing came of it, for the boys
had a better understanding of the characters of the two instructors.
They felt an increased respect for them morally as well as
physically, and there came a better spirit between Jack's crowd and
the two professors. The latter never even referred to the burglar
incident, and, whenever any of the other students spoke in rather
slighting terms of either of the instructors, Jack and his friends
were ready defenders.

On account of preparations for examinations there was only a half
day's session, the boys being given the afternoon off. After dinner
Jack accepted an invitation from John Smith to go out in the Indian
student's canoe on the lake.

They paddled about for several hours, and were on their way back to
the boathouse, when a rowing craft, in which two youths were seated,
came swiftly toward them.

"Look out!" called Jack. "Do you want to run us down?"

Whether the rowers intended that or not was not evident, but they
certainly came within a few inches of smashing the frail canoe. Only
John's skill prevented it. As the rowboat swept past one of the oars
fairly snatched the paddle from Jack's hand.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded angrily.

The only answer was a mocking laugh, and, as the boat was now far
enough past to show the faces of the rowers, Jack looked to see who
they were.

"Jerry Chowden!" he exclaimed. "I thought
 he was in Chicago," and he recalled the threatening letter.

"Guess he's here to see the closing exercises," remarked John. "Who's
that with him?"

"Adrian Bagot" replied Jack. "Well, they're a nice team. I shouldn't
wonder but there'd be some trouble for some one if they stay long."

"Not many more days left," John observed. "Grab your paddle," and he
swung the canoe around to where the broad blade floated.

In his room that evening Jack's meditations as to what Chowden's
return might mean were interrupted by the entrance of Nat Anderson.
He seemed quite excited and was waving a letter over his head.

"Great news," he exclaimed.

"What is?" asked Jack. "Some one left you a thousand dollars?"

"No, it's an invitation from my uncle, Morris Kent, who has a big
ranch near Denville, Colorado, to come out and spend the summer
vacation with him."

"Fine!" cried Jack.

"But that isn't the best part," added Nat. "He says I can bring two
chums with me, and I want you to be one."

"Do you mean it?" asked Jack.

"Sure."

"Who else will you take?"

There was a noise in the corridor.




CHAPTER X

A MEETING WITH CHOWDEN


"Studying or talking?" asked a voice in the hall outside of Jack's
room, and the door was pushed open to admit John Smith. Jack and Nat
looked at each other. The same thought seemed to come to both of
them.

"Him!" they exclaimed together.

"What's this, a game, or a joke?"

"A little of both," Jack said. "Tell him about it, Nat."

Nat explained the receipt of his uncle's invitation.

"We were just wondering who would make the third member of the party,
when you came in," he said, "and we both decided on you."

"It was very kind of you to invite me," John said. "I guess I can
arrange to go. Where is this ranch?"

"Near Denville, Colorado," replied Nat.

John started and looked at Jack.

"Nothing the matter with that place, is there?" asked Jack.

"No. On the contrary it couldn't be better," replied John. "That's
where we want to go to settle the mystery--"

He stopped, evidently on account of Nat's presence.

"Oh, Nat knows all about it," said Jack. "I see what you're driving
at."

"Yes," went on John. "Denville is not many miles from Denver, and at
the latter place, you remember, we can go to the Capital Bank, and
get the address of Orion Tevis."

"Yes, and then maybe we can locate my father," Jack exclaimed. "Say,
Nat, this couldn't have happened better. It's fine of you to think of
me."

"The same here," put in John.

"Well, I don't know of any fellows I'd rather have than you two,"
replied Nat.

"Thanks," his two friends answered.

"I'm going to write a reply at once," Nat went on. "I'll go to town
and mail it to-night. I guess Dr. Mead will let me."

"Let's all three go," suggested Jack. "I'll ask permission. We've not
been caught in any scrapes lately, and our records are fairly good.
It's early."

Dr. Mead readily gave permission for the three chums to go to the
village where the post-office was.

"But you must be in by eleven o'clock," he stipulated. "I shall
instruct Martin to watch out for you, and if you are not in at that
hour it will mean demerits all around. I would not let you go, only
you have had very good records of late." On their way to the village
the three chums talked of nothing but the proposed trip. To Nat it
was enough excitement to think of merely going west. But to Jack, who
wanted to solve the mystery of his father it meant much more. He
hoped since the eleven years of voluntary exile were almost up, to
induce his father to come east and make his home.

"That is, if I can find him," thought Jack. "I hope I can. First I'll
have to locate Orion Tevis, to see what he knows."

"I'll be glad to get out on a range once more," said John Smith.
"I've got enough Indian blood in me to feel cooped up in a house. It
will be sport out there, riding ponies and seeing the cattle."

The boys reached the post-office about nine o'clock and Nat mailed
his letter.

"It's early to go back," said Jack. "Isn't there something that we
can do?"

"There's a moving picture show in town," said John. "Let's go to it
for awhile."

This was voted a good idea. The boys enjoyed the scenes thrown on the
screene, and were particularly taken with a depiction of a cowboy
roping a steer.

"That's what we'll soon see in reality," whispered Nat.

They started through the village, and, as they turned down a quiet
street that led toward Washington Hall, Jack saw a dark figure
sneaking along on the opposite side, in the shadow of some buildings.

"Looks as if some one was following us," said Jack to himself.

As our hero pulled out his handkerchief there flew out with it a
letter. The sight of it reminded him that he had promised Professor
Hall to mail it that evening. It had slipped his mind, even though he
had been in the post-office.

"I'd better run right back with it," said Jack. "Mighty stupid of me.
Well, there's no help for it, and I don't want to disappoint Hall.
He's a good friend of ours."

He picked the letter up, and held it in his hand to insure that it
would not be forgotten again.

"I say!" called Jack to his companions, who were now some distance
ahead of him. "I've got to run back and mail a letter. Go on and I'll
catch up to you."

"All right," said John. "We'll walk slow."

Intent on rectifying his forgetfulness, Jack turned back on the run.
He did not see three figures sneaking into the shadow of a dark
doorway just as he turned.

"We'll have him just where we want him," whispered one of the youths
who had been following the students.

"You're not going to be three to one, are you?" asked one of the
trio.

"No, I guess Jerry Chowden is a match for Jack Ranger any day," was
the answer. "You two can look on, and see me wallop him."

Jack made good time back to the post-office, and came hurrying along
the street, whistling a lively tune. In the meantime the three
plotters had walked ahead, taking care not to get too near Nat and
John. The latter, however, had walked faster than they intended, so
that they were a good quarter of a mile ahead of Jack.

As the latter came opposite the last building that stood on the edge
of where there were a number of vacant lots, he was surprised to hear
a hail.

"Hold on there!" someone cried.

"Who are you?" asked Jack, looking around. Then, as three figures
emerged from the shadows and blocked his path, he exclaimed:

"Oh, it's you, is it, Jerry Chowden? Well, what do you want?"

"I want to get square with you," replied the bully, in an angry tone.

"And you bring two of your toadies along to help you, I suppose,"
said Jack, unable to keep a sneer from his voice.

"Look here!" exclaimed one of Jerry's companions. "I don't know who
you are, except by name, but I'm not going to have you insult me.
Jerry is a friend of mine--"

"Sorry for you," interrupted Jack cooly.

"None of your lip!" exclaimed the other strange youth.

"Jerry says he has a bone to pick with you," the one who had first
addressed Jack went on. "He told us he was going to have it out with
you, and invited us along. We're not going to take any part, you can
rest assured of that, and there'll be fair play. But if you're
afraid, why that's another matter."

"Who said I was afraid?" demanded Jack hotly.

"You seem to act so."

"I don't know that I ever did you any harm, Jerry Chowden," Jack
said, more quietly, "but if you feel so why I can't help it."

"I do, and I'm going to get even," spoke Jerry, advancing closer to
Jack.

"Stand aside," demanded Jack, as the bully almost brushed against
him.

"Not until you've given me satisfaction."

"What do you mean?"

"You know well enough what I mean."

"Do you want to fight?" asked Jack calmly.

"Certainly I do!" exclaimed the bully, aiming a blow at the lad in
front of him. Jack stepped quickly back, Jerry nearly lost his
balance and just saved himself from falling.

"You're a coward!" cried Jerry angrily.

"I am, eh?" cried Jack. "Well, if I must fight I'm going to do it for
all I'm worth!"

The next instant he had his coat off, and was ready to defend
himself. Jerry, nothing loath, closed in, and there in the darkness,
illuminated only by the stars, the fight began.

Jerry was well built and strong, but he had little science. On the
contrary, though Jack was not as muscular nor as heavy as his
antagonist, he more than made up for it in his quickness and his
ability to hit hard. Jerry came up with a rush, and aimed a vicious
blow at Jack's face. Jack cleverly dodged it, and countered, landing
on Jerry's chin with a force that made the bully see stars.

"I'll pay you for that!" he cried.

He would have done better to have kept quiet, since he took his
attention from Jack's fists, which, in the darkness, were hard enough
to see at best. A second later Jerry found his nose stopping a solid
blow, straight from the shoulder.

"Ow!" yelled Jerry, in spite of himself.

Then he clenched with Jack, and the two went at it rough-and-tumble.
Jack got in a number of good blows, and Jerry tried his best to get
away and deliver some in return. He did manage to punch Jack on the
body, causing that worthy's breath to come in gasps.

Back and forth went the fighters, the two spectators dancing about to
see all they could of it, They kept their word not to interfere, and
it was a fair struggle between Jack and Jerry.

Though Jack did his best he could not avoid getting some severe
blows, and one, on his eye, he felt had done considerable damage. But
he more than paid Jerry back for it, and, in a little while the bully
was fairly howling for mercy.

"Help!" he cried. "He's not fighting fair."

"Don't be a baby!" Jerry's friends called to him, somewhat disgusted
with his actions. "Give it to him!"

Jerry made one more effort to deal Jack a blow that would win the
victory, but in his eagerness he lowered his guard. Our hero shot out
a swift left, and it landed full on Jerry's chin. He staggered for a
second, and then went down in a heap.

He was up again in a couple of seconds, not much the worse, but all
the fight was gone out of him. He held his head in his hands for a
while, and then fairly ran up the dark street, while his two friends,
surprised at the sudden outcome of the fight, followed more slowly.

"I'll get even with you yet!" Jerry called back.

"Well, if you do I still will have the satisfaction of knowing that I
trounced you good and proper," Jack said, as he held a cold stone to
his bruised eye.

Just then, from across the lots there came a hail:

"Hey, Jack! Where are you?"

"Coming," was Jack's reply.

He heard some one running toward him as he began to pick up his coat,
and put on his hat.




CHAPTER XI

A GRAND WIND UP


"What's the matter?" demanded John Smith, as he and Nat joined their
comrade.

"Did you get lost?" asked Nat.

"No, only sort of delayed," answered Jack.

"What makes you talk so funny?" inquired John.

"I expect it's because my lips are swollen," was the reply.

"Did some one hold you up and try to rob you?" cried Nat, in alarm.

"Well, it was a hold-up, but no robbery," said Jack, and then he
related what had happened.

"Why didn't you yell for help?" asked John. "We'd have come back."

"I didn't need any," replied Jack. "It was a fair fight enough. I
guess he'll not forget that one on the chin in a hurry," and he
laughed in spite of his swollen lips and blackened eye.

"Much damaged?" asked Nat.

"I'm afraid I've got a shiner," Jack replied. "They're sure to notice
it at the Hall, and what will I say?"

"Steal their thunder," advised John. "Let's hurry back, and report at
once to the doctor."

"Good idea," spoke Jack.

They made good time back to the academy, and arrived a little before
eleven.

"Dr. Mead says I'm to mark down just the time you come in," said
Martin, the monitor.

"That's right," agreed Jack. "Is the doctor in his study?"

"I believe he is."

"We want to see him," went on Jack.

"Been fighting." said Martin to himself. "My, my! What boys they are!
Always into something!"

"Come in!" called the head of the Academy in answer to Jack's knock
on his door, and the three lads entered.

"Ah, Ranger! And Smith and Anderson. Well, what can I do--Ha!
Fighting, eh!" and the tone that had been a genial one became stern.

"Yes, sir," admitted Jack boldly. "I came to tell you all about it,
before you heard a garbled report from some one else."

Then he related exactly what had happened, Nat and John confirming
what he said. The boys' stories were so evidently true that Dr. Mead
could but believe them.

"That's enough," he said when Jack had finished. "I believe you.
Don't let it--well, there, I don't suppose it was your fault.
Fighting is a bad business--but then--well boys, now get to bed. You
have plenty of hard work before you go in the next week with all the
examinations. Good night!"

"Good night!" echoed the lads.

"That was the best way out," agreed Jack, when they were in the
corridor. "Now I've got to get some vinegar and brown paper for this
optic or I'll look a sight to-morrow."

Examinations held sway for nearly a week thereafter. But "it's a long
lane that has no turning" and, at last there came a time when the
boys could say:

"To-morrow's the last day of school."

The term was at an end, and the whole academy was in a ferment over
it. The students were busy packing their belongings, the graduates
had already departed, and there was almost as much excitement as at
the annual football or baseball games with a rival institution.

The night before the day of the closing exercises, Jack's room was a
gathering place for all his chums. Fred Kaler was so excited he tried
to played a mouth organ, a jews'-harp and a tin flute, all at the
same time, with results anything but musical, while Will Slade
stuttered as he never had before.

"What will we do for a final wind-up?" asked Sam.

"Let it be something worthy of the name of Washington Hall,"
exclaimed Jack.

"We ought to work Professors Garlach and Socrat into it somehow,"
suggested Bony. "They're more fun than a bunch of monkeys."

"Get 'em to fight another duel," put in Sam.

"They'd suspect something leading up to that," spoke John Smith.

"Let's see if we can't make one outdo the other in politeness."
suggested Jack. "I have a sort of scheme."

"Trot it out!" demanded Sam.

"I'll get Garlach to write Socrat a note," said Jack.

"Where's the fun in that?" asked Bony.

"Then I'll have Socrat send a little missive to Garlach."

"What's the answer?" demanded Nat.

"Garlach will write in French and Socrat will pen a few lines in
German, and I'll tell 'em what to write," Jack went on. "Do you see
my drift, as the snow bank said to the wind?"

"Good!" exclaimed Sam. "Go ahead."

The boys soon got together over the plan, and Jack was given plenty
of suggestions to perfect it. He made up a number of sample notes,
and then, being satisfied, he announced:

"Now I'm going to start in. Just hang around, you fellows, and see
what happens."

It was about nine o'clock, but as it was the night before the last
day of school, hardly any of the teachers or the pupils had thought
of going to bed.

Jack went to Professor Garlach's room. He found the instructor busy
packing up his books preparatory to the vacation.

"Ach! It iss young Ranger!" exclaimed the German instructor.
"Velcome. Come in. It is goot to see you."

"Thanks, Professor," said Jack. "I suppose you are all ready for the
long rest?"

"Sure I am, Ranger."

"Well, we all are. I saw Professor Socrat packing up as I came past."

At the mention of the French teacher's name Professor Garlach seemed
to bristle up. There was always more or less ill feeling between them
on account of their nationalities, but of late it was especially
acute.

"Ach! Speak not of him!" growled Garlach.

"I think he wants to make friends with you," went on Jack, trying not
to smile. "In fact he said as much to me. He said he would like to
write you a farewell note and apologize for anything that might have
given you offense."

The German's manner changed. Jack was speaking the truth, though he
had been instrumental in bringing the matter about. He had previously
paid a visit to Socrat, and, broaching the subject of the cold
feeling between the two teachers had suggested that it would be a
fine thing if Mr. Socrat would say he was sorry for it, and would do
all in his power to heal the breach.

It was no easy task to bring this about, but Jack had a winning way
with him, and really made the Frenchman believe it was more a favor
on his part to apologize than it was of Mr. Garlach to accept it. In
the end Professor Socrat had agreed to write a little note to his
former enemy.

"Only I know not ze Germaine language," he said.

"That's all right, I'll do it for you," said Jack. "I can fix it up."

"Then write ze note and I sign heem," said the Frenchman.

"So he vill my pardon ask, iss it?" inquired Mr. Garlach when Jack
had explained to him.

"I believe that's his intention. Why can't you two meet out in the
chapel and fix things up. Exchange letters so to speak. He's going to
write to you in German, and you can write to him in French."

"I know not de silly tongue!" grunted Mr. Garlach.

"I'll write it for you," Jack said, turning aside his head to conceal
a grin. "I'm pretty good at French."

"Den you may do so," said Mr. Garlach. "I haf no objections to
accepting his apologies, and being friends mit him."

"Then here's the note," said Jack, handing over one he had prepared.
"Sign it and be in the chapel in ten minutes. Mr. Socrat will be
there, and we'll have a sort of farewell service."

"Fine!" exclaimed the German. "Und we vill sing 'Der Wacht am
Rhein!'"

"And maybe the 'Marseilles,' too," added Jack softly as he went to
deliver a note written in German to Mr. Socrat. The missives had cost
him and the other boys no little thought.

"Now, you fellows want to lay low if you expect to see the fun,"
cautioned Jack to his chums, when he returned and told of his
success. "Garlach and Socrat will be here in about ten minutes. There
must be only a few of us around. Bony, I'll depend on you to act when
I give the signal."

"I'll be there," promised Bony.

A little later all but a few of the boys had concealed themselves
behind benches in the chapel. Jack was out of sight but could see
what was going on, A few students stood conversing in one corner.

Mr. Socrat was the first to enter. He came in, holding a note in his
hand.

"It is now zat I prove ze politeness of ze French," he murmured.

A moment later Mr. Garlach entered from the other side.

"Goot effning, Herr Socrates," he said, with a stiff bow.

"Bon jour!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat. "Only, if it pleases you my dear
Professor Garlick, my name ees wizout ze final syllable."

"Und mine it iss Garla-a-ach, und not like de leek vat you eat!"
exclaimed the German.

"They're off!" said Jack in a whisper to Sam.

"Your pardon!" came from Mr. Socrat. "I am in error. But I have here
a note in which I wish to greet you wiz the happiness of parting. It
iss in your own language!"

"Ach! So! I too have a missive for you," went on Mr. Garlach,
somewhat modified. "It iss in your tongue as I belief, but I am not
so goot in it as perhaps you are."

"It is charming of you," spoke Mr. Socrat, bowing low. The two
professors exchanged notes, and then stepped over to a flaring
gaslight where they could read them.

"Now watch out!" exclaimed Jack.

"Ha!" cried the German. "Vas ist dis?"

"Pah!" cried Mr. Socrat. "Diable! I am insult!"

"Dot Frenchman iss von pig-hog!" came from Mr. Garlach.

"See! So I will treat ze writair!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat, tearing the
note to shreds and stamping on the pieces.

"I vill crush the frog-eater as I do dis letter!" muttered Mr.
Garlach, as he twisted the slip of paper into a shapeless mass and
tossed it into the air.

"Scoundrel!" hissed Mr. Socrat

"Vile dog vat you iss!" came from Mr. Garlach.

Then, unable to restrain their feelings any longer they rushed at
each other.

"Ready!" called Jack, and the next instant the lights went out,
leaving the chapel in darkness.




CHAPTER XII

HO! FOR THE WEST!


For a few seconds there was the sound of a confused stumbling about.
Blows were struck, but they seemed to land on desks and tables.
Mingled with them were the murmurs of strong French and German words,
and the heavy breathing of the two teachers.

Then, as the door at the farther end of the room opened, allowing
light from the hall to come in, a voice asked:

"What's the matter?'

"Matter enough! I am terrible insult!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat from
behind a table where he was crouching.

"I must be apologized by alretty!" muttered Mr. Garlach, in deep
tones.

"What is this all about?" demanded Dr. Mead, who had made the first
inquiry. "What does it mean?"

"Ach! I vill tell you!" spoke the German teacher.

"I will leave at once razzer zan stay where he iss!" came from the
Frenchman.

"Come to my office," said Dr, Mead. "I am afraid it's another of the
boys' pranks."

The two Instructors, muttering against each other, followed the head
of the academy down the corridor.

"Now's our chance to sneak!" exclaimed Jack. "Say, it was the best
ever!"

"What was in the notes that made them so mad?" asked Sam.

"Why, the one Garlach got stated that the Germans were a race of
thieves and robbers and would never be anything better. Professor
Garlach, on the other hand, seemed to have written to his French
friend that the latter nation was nothing but a lot of long-legged
frog-eaters, who were more ladies than they were men!"

"No wonder they went up into the air!" exclaimed Bony Balmore. "It
was like a match to gunpowder."

"Lucky we could turn the lights out," commented Nat Anderson, "or
they'd be fighting yet."

"Maybe they will have a duel," suggested
 John Smith.

But in some way Dr. Mead managed to patch matters up. Nor was any
punishment visited on the boys. The doctor evidently made allowances
for the closing of school, and the consequent slacking of discipline
that was bound to occur. The next day, though the French and German
professors glared more darkly than usual at each other, there was no
reference to the notes.

The closing exercises were soon over and then, after a few formal
words of farewell for the term from Dr. Mead, Washington Hall was
declared closed until the fall.

"Whoop!" yelled Jack, as he came with a rush from chapel where the
final program had been rendered. "Hold me down, someone!"

"I will!" exclaimed Nat, jumping on his chum's back, and bearing him
to the earth.

"I'll help!" cried several, and soon half a dozen had piled upon
Jack, in the middle of the campus.

"Down!" he cried, half smothered. "That's enough!"

"Fall in line for a grand march!" shouted Fred Kaler, as he tooted on
a tin fife. "L-l-M-let m-m-m-me--l-l-l--Pzzant!" spluttered Will.
"Let me lead!"

"Too late!" cried Sam, as he ran out and got at the head of the
impromptu procession.

"Came on and get Socrat and Garlach in line!" called Jack. "We'll
make 'em march side by side and forget all their troubles."

The idea was received with shouts of laughter.
 Off the lads started on a run for the rooms of the two professors.

"Come on!" cried Jack to Mr. Garlach.

"Ach! Vat iss it now?" inquired the instructor, vainly struggling
against the hold Jack had of him. "You boys vill drive me to
distraction!"

"Got to take part in the grand march!" went on Jack.

Before Mr. Garlach knew what was happening, he found himself being
hustled out of his chambers and fairly carried along in a rush of the
students.

Sam Chalmers had in the meanwhile gone to Professor Socrat's study.

"Come on!" he cried. "Take part in the grand salute to the French
flag."

"La belle France!" cried the teacher. "Vive l' Republic!"

"That's the cheese!" fairly shouted Sam. "Hurry up!"

And, before Professor Socrat could catch his breath he found himself
being hurried along the corridor and out on the campus.

"Hurrah for France!" cried a score of voices.

"My compliments!" exclaimed Mr. Socrat, bowing low to the assemblage
of students.

"Long may the German flag wave!" came another cry.

"Ach! Dot is goot to mine heart!" said Mr. Garlach.

"Zat is an insult to me!" spluttered the Frenchman, as Sam hurried
him on.

"Don't mind 'em. They don't know what they're saying," was Sam's
comment.

"Vy do they shout for dot frog-eating nation?" inquired Mr. Garlach
of Jack.

"Mistake I guess," was the reply. "The boys are not very good on
language yet."

Then, before either of the instructors could protest, they found
themselves side by side, being carried along in a press of students
who marched around the academy, singing at the top of their voices,
and each one rendering a different air.

"Whoop! Isn't this great!" shouted Jack in Nat's ear.

"The best ever!" was the answer. "It only happens once in a
lifetime!"

But all things must have an end, and at last the grand march came to
a close. The students fairly outdid themselves, and had to halt every
now and then to rest from the combined exertion of laughing and
leaping as they paraded.

"Three cheers for Washington Hall!" called Jack.

The volume of sound was deafening.

"Now three for Professor Garlach!"

How the boys did yell. The professor looked as pleased as a lad with
his first pair of trousers, and bowed low to Mr. Socrat whom he had
detected in the act of cheering for him,

"Three cheers for Professor Socrat!" yelled Jack.

Mr. Garlach joined in the cries for his late enemy, and then the two
teachers shook hands, while the boys cheered again.

"Now good loud ones for Dr. Mead and all the rest of the teachers!"
called Jack, and by this time the cheering habit was so implanted
that the lads cheered everything they could think of from vacation to
Socker the janitor.

Now the crowd began to break up. Several students found they must
catch trains, and there were general leave takings. Good-byes were
being said on every side, and there were many promises to write
letters and keep up new friendships or cement old ones.

Jack found so many wanting to bid him farewell for the term that he
was kept busy shaking hands, and the number of boys he promised to
let hear from him during vacation would have kept two private
secretaries busy.

Finally, however, matters began to quiet down. Most of the students
had left the campus to pack up their belongings while a number had
already departed for home. Jack, Nat Anderson and John Smith found
themselves alone at least for a few minutes.

"Well, this is like old times," said Jack.

"Wow!" exclaimed John in true Indian tone. "Heap big time!"

"Reminds me of a circus broken loose," commented Nat. "But say, Jack,
our train goes in an hour. Are we going to take it or stay over--"

"Not on your life!" exclaimed Jack. "Washington Hall will be as
lonesome as a desert island in about an hour and I'm off."

"I think I'll go also," said John.

"Now, about our western trip," put in Nat. "Where will we connect
with you. John?"

"Well," replied the Indian student. "I am going up to Canada to pay a
short visit to some friends of my father's, who were very kind to him
before he died. I think I will be with you in a week, and I can come
on to Denton."

"That will do first-rate," said Nat. "Jack and I will be on the
lookout for you. We'll be ready to start in a week, I guess."

"The sooner the better for me," put in Jack.

"That's so, I forgot you are anxious to solve the mystery of your
father's disappearance," Nat said. "Well, perhaps we can hurry a
bit."

"No, I guess that time will be about right," Jack went on. "I'll have
to spend some time with my aunts, and I want to have a talk with
Judge Bennett and get some further details. I guess we'll let it
stand at a week."

"Well, good-bye until then," said John, shaking hands with his two
friends, and he was soon on his way to the Rudmore station. The
others followed a little later. Several hours' riding found Jack and
Nat at Denton.

"I wonder if they'll have the brass band out to meet us," suggested
Jack.

"Perpetual porous plasters! They would if they only knew what a
reputation we have achieved!" exclaimed Nat, as the train rolled in.
"Hello, there's some of your folks!"

"That's so! My three aunts!" cried Jack, as he saw from the window
the three maiden ladies with whom he had lived so long. Aunt Mary
caught a glimpse of him, and waved her handkerchief, an example that
was followed by the other two. The next instant Jack was being hugged
and kissed as though he had been away ten years instead of a few
months.

"We were so afraid the train would be late, or that you wouldn't come
until the night one," said Aunt Josephine.

"Couldn't think of staying away from you any longer," Jack replied,
his eyes a trifle moist as he realized the love his aunts bore toward
him, and he hugged and kissed them in turn.

"So long!" called Nat, as he walked up the station platform. "I'll
see you later. Got to pack for our trip."

The next few days were busy ones for Jack. In the first place he had
to tell his aunts all about his school experience, that is such parts
of it as he thought they might care to hear and this took time. Then
he had to see Judge Bennett, and the family lawyer explained further
details about Jack's father. Jack also asked the judge for the
curious ring, as he thought he might have to use it on his western
trip.

"You must take good care of it, Jack," the lawyer said. "No telling
what may hinge on it."

"If anyone gets it away from me he'll have the hardest proposition he
ever tackled," Jack said earnestly.

In fact our hero was kept so busy, between this, arranging for his
trip, and renewing his acquaintances with the town boys, that he was
all unprepared when, one day, John Smith rang the door bell.

"Well, where in the world did you come from?" asked Jack.

"Straight from Canada. Didn't you get my letter?"

"By Jove! So I did, but I clean forgot to-day was Friday. Come right
in."

Jack's aunts graciously received John, whom they welcomed for the
part his father had played in the life of Mr. Ranger. It was decided
that the Indian student should stay at Jack's house until Monday,
when the start for the west was to be made.

Jack's aunts had, after an effort, given their consent to his making
the western trip. More particularly as they felt it might lead to the
discovering of his father. Once they got to this point it was clear
sailing and they helped Jack to pack up.

There were final instructions from Judge Bennett to Jack. There were
good-byes, said over a dozen times, from the aunts. There were
farewell calls from a host of boys who envied Jack, Nat and John the
experience they were about to have.

At last, though it seemed it moved on leaden feet, Monday came, and,
at least an hour before train time, the three boys started for the
depot. They had valises with them, but their trunks had been sent on
ahead.

"Bounding buffaloes and copper-colored cowboys!" exclaimed Nat, as
the whistle of the train sounded. "Here she comes!"

"Well, I'm glad of it," observed Jack. "I was getting tired waiting
for it."

"It will seem good to get out on a range again," spoke John. "I'm
counting on it."

"Westward ho!" cried Jack, as he jumped aboard the train, and waved
his hand in farewell to his aunts, while the other two boys shook
their hats in the air in salute to several lads who had come to see
them off.




CHAPTER XIII

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE


The boys, under the advice of Judge Bennett, had planned to go to
Chicago. From there they would take a train on another road, which
made connections with the line that would land them in Denver. From
Denver they had to change to still another railway to get to
Fillmore, the nearest station to Denville. Nat's uncle had promised
to meet them there a week from the day they started, since he wanted
to allow them plenty of time to get to Colorado, and there were
sometimes delays in connecting with trains.

From Fillmore the lads were to be driven about twenty miles to where
Mr. Kent's ranch was located. He had written to Nat that in case he
was not in Fillmore when the boys arrived they were to put up at a
hotel and wait for him. Also, in case they missed connections and
were late in getting there, he would wait for them.

"We want to try and find where Orion Tevis is located," said Jack,
"and to do this we will have to go to the Capital Bank in Denver.
That may take a little time, as we may have to prove our identity."

"Ought to be easy to do that with the rings you and John have,"
answered Nat, the Indian student having secured his gold circlet from
Dr. Mead, who had been keeping it for him.

"It may be and it may not," John said.

"There are a lot of things mixed up in this affair, and no one can
see how it will turn out. But I don't expect any trouble in getting
Mr. Tevis's address. The hard part will be to find him."

"I'll find him if it's possible," Jack put in. "I want to end my
father's wanderings and bring him back with me."

"And I'll help all I can, and I know my uncle will, too," said Nat,
with ready sympathy.

The boys had arranged themselves comfortably in the train, which, by
this time, had speeded several miles from Denton. The car was not
well filled as it was early and no large cities had been reached. As
station after station was passed, however, passengers began to take
the seats until the cars were comfortably filled.

The boys had taken passage in a through sleeper to Chicago, and got
their meals in the dining car ahead. They had supper in Scranton,
where the train waited about half an hour to connect with another. As
the boys came back to their seats in the sleeper, which had not yet
been made up, they saw several new passengers.

One was a tall, rather rough looking man, who seemed to have suddenly
acquired wealth. His clothes were good but did not fit him well, and
he seemed ill at ease in them. There was a big diamond in his shirt
front, and he had a heavy gold chain across his vest.

"Guess I'm entitled to the best that's goin'," he said in a loud tone
as he sat in one seat and put his big feet up in the one opposite.
"I've paid for this whole section an' I'm going to use it. I ain't
worked hard all my life for nothing. Just sold my share in a coal
mine," he said to the boys, whose seats were near his. "Now I'm going
to enjoy myself. Going to the 'Windy City'! that's what I am. Got
friends in Chicago that'll be glad to see me an' my pile," and he
pulled out a big role of bills. "My name's Josh Post, an I'm set in
my ways," he added.

The boys did not make any answer, but, at the sound of the big man's
voice a passenger in the seat ahead of him turned and looked to see
who was speaking. As he did so the former mine owner happened to be
displaying his money, and the eyes of the other passenger gleamed in
a dangerous sort of way.

As he turned around to get a glimpse of the miner, Jack got a look at
the face of the passenger who had shown such curiosity. The boy
started. "Where have I seen him before?" he thought to himself. "I
can't seem to place him." Then he leaned over and whispered to Nat.
"Make an excuse to go to the end of the car, and on your way back
take a look at the man in the first seat."

"All right," said Nat, who did not ask the reason. A little later he
sauntered to the water cooler. He could hardly repress a start as he
passed the man Jack had mentioned.

"Know him?" asked Jack, when his chum had regained his seat.

"Sure, in spite of his disguise, his new way of wearing his hair, and
the fact that he has shaved off his moustache."

"Marinello Booghoobally?" asked Jack, in low tones.

"Otherwise known as Hemp Smith," whispered Jack. "I wonder what he's
up to now."

"I shouldn't be surprised if he would like to annex the roll of one
Mr. Josh Post," observed Nat. "We'd better keep our eyes pealed. Put
John next to the game."

Thereupon the Indian student was told the story of the man who had
posed as an Oriental mystic and a professor of whatever he thought he
could delude people into believing, as it suited his fancy, and
netted him cash.

"We certainly got the best of him in the haunted house affair," said
Jack. "Guess the professor won't tackle another job like that in
hurry," and he silently laughed as he thought of the trick (told of
in the first volume) the students played on the fakir when a
phonograph was used to produce ghostly noises.

"Yes, sir, I'm out for a good time," said Mr. Post, as if some one
had doubted his word. "Where you boys going?"

"Out west," replied Jack, thinking it would do no harm to reply
civilly to Mr. Post.

"Excuse me for coming into this conversation," spoke Marinello
Booghoobally, otherwise Hemp Smith. "I'm going out west myself, and
if I can do anything to help you boys or you, Mr. Post, I'll be only
too glad to do so."

"Help yourself to our money and his too, I guess," murmured Jack.

"Well now, that's kind of you, stranger," said Mr. Post, who seemed
ready to accept any one as a friend. "What might your name be?"

"It might be almost anything I guess," muttered Nat. "Let's hear what
he says. I wonder how he got here, anyhow."

"I'm Professor Punjab," replied Hemp Smith. "As you can understand by
my name I am from East India, but I have been here so long I have
acquired some of the habits."

"Most of the bad ones," said Jack, under his breath.

"What do you work at?" asked Mr. Post.

"Work? I do not work," replied the fakir. "I am what you might call a
mind reader, a mystic, a foreteller of future events."

"Ain't no mesmerizer, are you?" asked Mr. Post.

"Yes, I can do that also," replied Professor Punjab. "Shall I give
you a sample?"

"I'd rather have you give me a sample of your fortune telling," said
the miner. "What's going to happen now?"

Professor Punjab seemed to go into a deep thought trance. Then he
gave a sudden start.

"The train is going to stop quickly because there is an obstruction
on the track!" he exclaimed.

An instant later, to the surprise of the boys, no less than Mr. Post,
there was a quick application of the air brakes, so much so that the
passengers were nearly thrown from their seats. Then with a grinding
and shrieking the train came to a stop.

"What did I tell you?" inquired Professor Punjab.

"Well I'll be horn-swoggled!" exclaimed Mr. Post.

"What's the matter?" asked several travelers.

The boys had hurried to the front of the car. They were met by a
brakeman.

"Don't be alarmed," he said. "There is no danger."

"What was the trouble?" asked Jack.

"There was some obstruction on the track, a couple of ties, I
believe, that fell from a passing flat car," the brakeman explained.
"The engineer saw it and stopped just in time."

Professor Punjab pulled a book from his pocket and began to read, as
if prophesying that trains would suddenly stop was the most natural
thing in the world.




CHAPTER XIV

PROFESSOR PUNJAB'S TRICK


"Well, I call that goin' some," spoke Mr. Post. "If you can do that
just sitting still I wonder what you can do when you begin moving"

"A mere trifle," said Professor Punjab. "I will be pleased to give
you a further evidence of my powers later on. But now I am fatigued.
I have studied hard to-day on the great mystery of the future life,
and I find I must take a little nourishment,--very little. A bit of
cracker and a glass of water," and with that he went forward to the
dining car.

"Yes, I'd just like to see him get along with a cracker and a glass
of water," murmured Jack. "I'll bet corned beef and cabbage is more
in his line."

"But how do you suppose he knew the train was going to stop?" asked
Ned speaking aloud. "That looks queer."

"He's a wonder, that's what he is," said Mr. Post. "I want to see
some more of him," and he got up to go back to the smoking
compartment, leaving the three boys alone in the forward part of the
car.

"Maybe he just made a guess at it," put in John Smith. "I've seen
some of our Indian medicine men pretend to prophesy and it turned out
they only made good guesses."

"Perhaps he did." Nat admitted.

Jack had moved over to the seat vacated by Professor Punjab. He
pressed his face close to the window and looked ahead. As he did so
he uttered an exclamation.

"Come here, John and Nat!" he said in a low tone. "This will explain
how it was done."

The two boys took turns looking from the window.

"See it?" asked Jack.

"Sure!" they chorused.

"We were just rounding that curve," Jack went on. "He happened to
look from the window and he saw the ties on the track. Any one could
as the electric light from that freight station is right over them.
He knew the engineer would stop in a hurry, and, sure enough, he did.
It's easy when you know how, isn't it?"

"But it certainly was strange enough when he made that statement, and
then to have the train slack up," spoke Nat. "I was beginning to
believe that, maybe, after all, he had some strange power."

"He's a fakir clear through," was Jack's opinion. "You wait a bit and
you'll see him try some trick on this miner. He's after his money."

"We ought to put a stop to that," said Nat, "Galloping greenbacks!
But we don't want to see the man robbed, even if he isn't as nice and
polite as he might be."

"And we'll not, either," remarked Jack. "We'll be on the lookout, and
maybe we can make Professor Hemp Smith Punjab wish he hadn't traveled
on this line."

The ties on the track were soon cleared away and the train resumed
its journey. The porter came in to make up the berths, and while this
was being done the three boys had to take seats in other sections of
the car.

In the meanwhile Professor Punjab returned. He was picking his teeth
as though he had dined more substantially than on a mere wafer and a
sip of water.

"You boys going far?" he asked.

"Quite a way," replied Jack in a low voice. He was afraid the former
experience the man had passed through might be recalled to him if he
 heard the voices of the students, and so did not use his natural
tones.

But Professor Punjab did not seem at all suspicious. Besides he had
never had a good look at the boys, and there was so much talking
going on the time they played the trick on him it is doubtful if he
remembered any one's voice.

"Where are you from?" the fakir asked next, but Jack was spared the
necessity of replying by the return of Mr. Post from the smoking
compartment.

"Well, well, Professor," the miner said, "that certainly was a slick
trick of yours. Haven't any more of 'em up your sleeve, have you?"

"That was no trick," returned the "professor" in an injured tone. "I
do not descend to tricks. If I am gifted with certain powers I must
use them. I can not help myself. There is something within me--some
spirit--that moves me. I saw that the train would have to stop and I
had to announce it."

"You bet you saw it all right," muttered Jack. "So could any one else
who had been sitting in your seat. It was easy."

"No offense, no offense, Professor," muttered Mr. Post, seeing he had
made a mistake. "I'm much interested in this thing."

"I welcome real interest in my work," the fakir went on, "I will be
happy to illustrate matters to you as far as my poor talents enable
me to. You have perhaps heard of the celebrated Indian manifestation
of making a plant grow in a few hours?"

"Not guilty," said Mr. Post solemnly.

"Then these young gentlemen have," the professor went on, turning to
the three boys.

Jack nodded silently.

"It is a strange power that we mystics have over the forces of
nature," the pretended philosopher went on. "We have but to plant a
seed in the soil, and, lo! a plant bearing fruit shoots up."

"That would be a good thing to sell to farmers," said Mr. Post.

"It can not be sold. Only an adept can perform it," said Professor
Punjab. "I would do it for you, only the conditions are not just
right here. But I can, perhaps, show you something you probably never
saw before."

With a flourish he drew from his pocket a large black handkerchief.
This he shook to show there was nothing in it. He spread it over his
extended left arm, which was crooked at the elbow. Then he placed his
right hand under it, and brought out a large orange.

"Well I'll be blowed!" exclaimed Mr. Post.

"Ain't got any more of 'em there, have you, Professor?"

"There is only one," was the reply, as the man returned the
handkerchief to his pocket and passed the orange to Mr. Post. "It is
difficult to produce one, I assure you."

"Not when you have them concealed in your coat, where you probably
put it when you were in the dining car," was Jack's comment, made to
himself.

"Well you're a wonder," exclaimed the miner. "I'd like to take
lessons off you."

"I can impart the secrets to only those of the inner circle," said
the professor, with an air of great wisdom. "But I am allowed to show
those who appreciate my doings some of the workings of my art.
Perhaps you would like to see a little more of what I am able to do."

"I sure would," replied Mr. Post.

"What I am about to do," Professor Punjab went on, "is so remarkable
that I am allowed to show it to but one person at a time. Therefore I
invite you, Mr. Post, into the smoking compartment with me. Later I
will be glad to show my young friends, one at a time."

"Not any for mine," muttered Jack, as the miner, who was much
interested in what he had seen, followed the fakir to the compartment
he had recently left.

"I wonder what he's up to," said Nat, when the two were out of
hearing.

"Something crooked, on the professor's part, you can make up your
mind," Jack answered.

"Let's find out what it is," suggested Nat.

"How?" inquired Jack.

"I think I can manage it," put in John Smith. "I have very good
hearing, and I can move around easily. Suppose I go and hide near the
compartment. Maybe I can hear what they say."

"Good!" exclaimed Jack. "Then you come back and tell us, and we'll
see what we can do in the way of tricks."

John put on a pair of moccasins he had in his valise, and moved
through the aisle, now completely hemmed in with the curtains from
the various berths. The other boys began to undress within their
narrow sections but they did not take off all their clothes, so as to
be in readiness for whatever should happen.

Jack managed to get into an unoccupied berth next to the smoking
compartment. By placing his ears to the partition he could just
distinguish what the professor was saying to Mr. Post.

"Well, that's about the limit!" John exclaimed softly to himself. "I
think we can spoil that proposition for him."

Having learned all he wanted to know, the Indian lad returned to his
friends.

"Professor Punjab is planning to get possession of the miner's money,"
he said in whispers, as the three boys held an impromptu conference
in the lavatory, where Nat and Jack had gone to clean their teeth
before retiring.

"How's he going to do it?" asked Jack.

"He has told Mr. Post that he has the power of making money increase
over night," John explained. "He says if a certain sum is put in a
mysterious box which he has, it will be doubled in the morning."

"And the miner believed him?" asked Jack.

"Sure. He agreed to put his roll in the box the fakir has, and it is
to be placed under Mr. Post's berth. He is not to open it until
morning."

"And when he does it will be full of brown paper," said Jack. "I've
read about such tricks."

"It won't if we can help it," put in Nat. "I guess here is where we
get busy."

The boys held a further conference and agreed on a plan of action.
They went back to their berths, and, a little later, they heard the
fake professor and Mr. Post coming back from the smoking room.

"Do I put it at the head or foot?" they heard the miner ask.

"At the foot," replied the plotter.

"So he can get it easier," muttered Jack.

Nat's berth was right opposite that of Mr. Post, so it was arranged
he was to do the main work. In a little while the sleeping car became
a quiet place, and deep breathing from one berth after another told
that the occupants were slumbering soundly. Pretty soon Nat heard a
snore from the berth of the miner.

"I'd better do it now, before Professor Punjab gets busy," he
thought.

Then with his umbrella, which had a crook for a handle, Nat reached
out between the curtains and began to feel around under Mr. Post's
bed for the box. He had to work cautiously, but at length his efforts
were rewarded. He felt the umbrella crook fasten on the object, and
he pulled it across the aisle toward him.

When it was near enough he reached his hand down and took it up into
his berth.

"Have you got it?" asked Jack in a whisper from the next sleeping
compartment.

"Sure," replied Nat

"Take out the money and put in our messages," Jack added, and Nat did
so. Then he placed the box back where he had found it.

In a short time the three boys, who were watching from behind their
berth-curtains, saw a hand protrude from beneath the hangings around
Professor Punjab's bed. The hand felt around a bit, and then went
under Mr. Post's berth. In a few seconds it came out and the box was
in it. A moment later it moved back again, and seemed to replace the
box.

"That's where he put a dummy in place of what he thinks is the one
with the bills in," thought Nat, who was watching closely. "He'll
skip out soon, I guess."

His conjecture was right. A few minutes later Professor Punjab, who
had not undressed, stole from his berth and walked softly to the end
of the car.

"I wonder if he'll jump off," thought Nat.

But the fakir had no such intentions. The train began to slacken
speed, as he probably knew it would, having to stop at a station,
which fact he could ascertain by consulting a time-table. The cars
came to a halt, with a grinding noise of the brakes, and Nat leaned
over toward the window of his berth.

He could see the station platform, and caught a glimpse of Professor
Punjab as he jumped from the sleeper. Then, while the boy watched,
the fakir opened the box he had in his hand.

All he pulled out were three cards, on which were written the names
of the three boys.

"Fooled!" exclaimed Nat as the train started off leaving the
professor, a picture of rage, on the platform.




CHAPTER XV

SHOOTING AN OIL WELL


The professor made a move as though he was about to jump back on the
train, but evidently thought better of it. He gave another look at
the cards, and then put them into his pocket.

"Looks as if he wanted to remember us," thought Nat.

By that time the train moved so far ahead that the professor was no
longer to be seen.

"How about it?" asked Jack, sticking his head through his curtains
over toward Ned's berth.

"He was mad enough to bite a ten-penny nail in two," said Nat.

"Did he find out he was fooled?" asked Jack, who had not been able to
see the fakir from the car window.

"I guess yes," spoke Nat, and he told Jack the details, which were
related to John, who was in the berth beyond.

"Had we better tell Mr. Post?" asked Nat.

"Wait until morning," suggested Jack. "Keep the money safe though."

"Right you are," came from Nat, and then the three boys quieted down
and went to bed, though it was some time before they fell asleep, so
full of excitement were they.

They awoke early, and, without dressing kept watch on the berth where
Mr. Post was sleeping. They thought he would soon awaken to see if
his money had increased as he had foolishly taken the fakir's word
that it would. It was hardly daylight before the boys saw a hand
emerge from the miner's berth and grope under his bed.

"Where is it?" they heard Mr. Post mutter.

Then, as his fingers closed on the box which Professor Punjab had put
in place of the one the miner had originally left, they could hear
him exclaim:

"Here's where I double my money!"

About three seconds later there arose such a yell from Mr. Post's
berth that the porter came running from his quarters in alarm.

"Who's bin done committed murder?" the darky demanded.

"Murder!" exclaimed Mr. Post. "I'll murder some one, that's what I
will! Look out! I'm a bad man when I'm mad, and I'm mad clear through
now!"

"What's de matter?" asked the frightened negro. "Who done sumfin to
yo', boss?"

"Matter?" cried the miner. "I've been robbed, that's what's the
matter. Did you take my money, you black rascal?" and Mr. Post leaped
from his berth and made a jump for the porter.

Just as he grabbed the negro by his kinky wool the conductor, who had
been asleep in his berth, emerged. He was struck squarely by the
porter, and the two went down in a heap in the aisle, with Mr. Post
on top of them.

"What's this all about?" inquired the conductor, as soon as matters
had quieted down a bit.

"I've been robbed, that's all," replied Mr. Post, who had partly
dressed.

"Tell me about it," demanded the conductor, and then the miner,
realizing that he had been a bit foolish, explained the
circumstances.

"Serves you right for trusting a stranger," said the conductor.

"But he said he was able to double my cash," protested Mr. Post.
"I've got to have it back. It will ruin me to lose it."

"Here it is," said Nat, who, with the other boys, had donned his
clothes. He thought matters had gone far enough. "We had it for safe
keeping," he explained.

"Well douse my safety lamp! Where did you get it?" asked Mr. Post,
his eyes big with wonder.

Nat explained briefly, telling how he and his chums had watched
Professor Punjab, and had fooled him.

"Say, you boys are all to the good!" exclaimed the miner. "Saved my
money for me, that's what you did. I didn't know I could be so
foolish until I tried. Well, it will take a slick one to beat me
again."

Mr. Post began counting over his roll. Meanwhile the other passengers
had gathered around, and the story became generally known.

"Smart lads, them," commented an elderly man. "Ought to get a
reward."

"And that's what they will, too," put in the miner, overhearing the
words. "Nobody can say Josh Post forgot a good action. Here's a
couple of hundred for you."

"No, thanks," said Nat firmly, and his companions shook their heads.
"We can't take money for that. Besides, it was pay enough to fool the
professor. We've had dealings with him before."

Mr. Post tried to force the money on the boys, but they refused to
listen to him, and he finally understood that there was a higher
standard than cash to repay kindness.

"Then shake hands!" he cried heartily, and the boys were almost sorry
they consented, for the miner's grip was anything but a light one.
However, he showed how much in earnest he was.

"I'll never forget you boys," he said. "Josh Post never forgets a
favor, and if ever you want a friend just you call on me."

The boys thought little of this at the time, but there was an
occasion when they remembered it and profited by it.

The excitement over, the boys went to breakfast. Mr. Post insisted on
going with them, and in fact he did not seem to want the boys out of
his sight. He was continually referring to his narrow escape at the
hands of the fake professor. The boys got to like him better as the
hours passed, for he showed that he had a good heart, beneath a
rather rough and repelling exterior.

At noon the train arrived at the center of the Pennsylvania oil
region. The evidences of the great industry were on every hand, and
the sight of the tall derricks, the refineries, the storage tanks,
and the pipes where natural gas was continually burning, were such
interesting ones that the lads never grew tired of looking from the
windows.

They delayed longer than usual at a small station, and some of the
passengers going out to see what the trouble was, reported that the
locomotive had broken down and that it would take three hours to
repair it.

"Here's a chance to get out and see the country," suggested Jack.
"What do you say?"

"Fine," replied John. "I've always wanted to see an oil well."

"Any objection to me going along?" asked Mr. Post, who had overheard
the talk.

"Guess not," replied Nat heartily. "Come along."

The four had no sooner alighted from the train than a roughly-dressed
man rushed up to the miner, grasped him by the hand, clapped him on
the back with a sound like a small explosion, and exclaimed:

"Don't tell me this is Josh Post!"

"All right, Jim Baker, then I'll not do anything of the sort if you
don't want me to," was the answer.

"Well land of living! Where'd you come from?" asked Jim Baker.

"Where you going?" demanded Mr. Post, not answering.

"Going to do what I've been doing for the last ten years," was the
reply. "Shoot a well."

"So you're not dead yet?" asked Mr. Post.

"The day isn't over," was the answer, "and I've got two big holes to
drop the go-devil down."

Then the two friends began to discuss old times with a vengeance,
until the miner, suddenly remembering himself called a halt and
cried:

"Jim Baker, let me introduce you to three of the best friends I got.
They saved a fool from being parted from his money," and, introducing
the boys he explained what he meant.

"You'd better get a nurse," said Mr. Baker sarcastically as his
friend finished.

"I've put an advertisement in for one. Got to be a good one though,
to keep me straight."

"Do you really shoot oil wells, with nitroglycerine, the way I've
read about?" asked John Smith of Mr. Baker.

"I sure do, son. Want to see me?"

"I would like to, very much."

"Excuse me," put in Mr. Post. "I think I hear some one calling me,"
and he made as if to hurry away.

"There's not a bit of danger," called Mr. Baker. "Hold on, Josh,
better come along."

"Guarantee you'll not blow us up?"

"Sure I will."

"What, give the guarantee or blow us up?" asked Jack with a laugh.

"I guess Josh knows he can trust me," said the well-shooter. "Now if
you want to come along I've got room in the wagon, and the first well
is only about a mile out. You'll have time to see it before they get
the engine fixed."

The boys at once decided they would go. It was a new experience, and,
though they realized the danger, they felt comparatively safe with
Mr. Baker.

"I'll bring the wagon right around," said the shooter. "Wait here."

In a few minutes he reappeared with a big two horse vehicle,
containing two wide seats.

"Get aboard!" he called, and the boys and Mr. Post scrambled up. The
horses started off slowly, Mr. Baker driving, and they turned from
the single street of the little village and emerged into a country
road.

Arriving at the well which was to be shot the boys saw a number of
men. They had just finished using the borer, and had gone down a
number of hundred feet without striking oil. It was, therefore,
decided to "shoot it," that is, tin cylinders, containing in all
about two hundred pounds of nitro-glycerine, were to be lowered into
the hole, one on top of the other. Then a heavy cylindrical weight
was to be dropped down on them. The concussion would set off the
explosive.

The powerful stuff, it was expected, would blow a hole down through
the sand and rock, and release the imprisoned oil.

Mr. Baker lost no time in getting to work. Carefully as though he was
handling eggs, he lowered the tins of nitro-glycerine into the deep
but narrow hole. The boys, as well as Mr. Post and the workmen, had
moved a safe distance away. The final arrangements were made, and
then all was in readiness for dropping the "go-devil," as it is
termed.

Mr. Baker gave a last look around to see that all were far enough
back. Then, with a wave of his hand he stooped over the hole. The
next instant he was running like a deer.

"He's dropped it!" exclaimed Mr. Post. "Watch it now!"

It seemed as if the running man would never get to a place of safety.
The boys watched with their hearts in their mouths.

Suddenly there sounded a subdued roar. Then came a curious trembling
of the earth, a shaking of the solid ground. Two seconds later there
spouted from the hole a column of black liquid that seemed to
envelope the derrick which had not been taken down. At the same time
there was a roaring, whistling noise.

Suddenly Mr. Post, who was watching the spouting well, shouted:

"Run boys! Run for your lives! Follow me!"




CHAPTER XVI

MR. POST'S ADVENTURE


For an instant Jack Ranger and his two comrades did not realize what
Mr. Post was saying. They could see no danger near them.

"What's the matter?" asked Nat.

"Don't stop to ask questions! Run! Run! Run!" yelled the miner.

The boys needed no further urging, but set off at top speed after Mr.
Post. He halted his run to allow the boys to catch up to him. Then,
as he gave a glance backward, he yelled:

"Too late! Duck!"

The boys found themselves being pushed forward. They stumbled and
fell, and it seemed as if some heavy weight toppled on top of them.
Then came an explosion that sounded like a thirteen-inch gun being
set off close to their ears.

They were stunned by the shock and frightened half out of their wits
by the unknown terror. An instant later it was as if the sky was
raining gravel, stones and sand.

"You can get up now," Jack heard Mr. Post saying. "That was about as
narrow a squeak as I ever had, and I've been in some pretty tight
places."

"What's it all about?" asked John Smith, as he rose and began
brushing the dirt from his hair.

"That's what I want to know," put in Jack.

"Snooping sand fleas! But I feel as if I had been digging a tunnel!"
cried Nat.

"Mighty lucky you didn't get blown down into one, or an oil hole,"
said Mr. Post.

"Anybody hurt?" asked Mr. Baker, running up at that moment. "My! I
thought you'd all be killed!"

"More good luck than good management that we weren't," replied the
miner. "How could you do it, Jim?"

"First time I ever was so careless," replied the well-shooter. "You
can bet it'll never happen again."

"What was it?" asked Nat.

"Just an explosion of about twenty pounds of nitro-glycerine about as
close to us as I ever care to have it," said Mr. Post.

"Yes, and if it hadn't been for Josh, I don't know where you boys
would be now," put in Mr. Baker. "He saved your lives, all right.
That's what he did."

"It wasn't anything," the miner interposed. "You see." he went on,
"Jim sort of got careless and left one of his cans of nitro-glycerine
lying on the ground. I didn't notice it, and I guess he didn't
either, until he shot the well. Then, when I saw the shower of rock
and stones, shooting up with the oil, and bearing right over toward
where the can of juice lay, I figured out there was going to be
trouble. That's why I yelled to you to run.

"I knew if any stones fell and hit that can we had a first-class
passage to kingdom come all bought and paid for, with through
tickets. I could see a lot of stones hurling up in the air, and I
knew, there wasn't anything to stop them from coming down. And the
majority of them were headed right for that can of death and
destruction."

"That's all right, as far as it goes," said Mr. Baker, when the miner
had ceased. "But he hasn't told you all. When Josh saw there was
going to be an eruption, then and there, for one big stone was almost
on top of the can, he just shoved you boys ahead of him, and then
fell on you to shield you with his body. That's what I call being a
hero."

"Hi! You drop that!" exclaimed Mr. Post, making a grab for his old
friend. "I didn't do any more than any one would have done. It was
all your fault, anyhow, Jim Baker."

"I know it was," admitted Mr. Baker, in contrite tones. "But that
don't alter what I said, Josh."

"Well if I ever hear you making any remarks about it, I'll inform the
oil well authorities how careless you're getting and you'll lose your
job," put in the miner. "Now I reckon you boys have seen enough for
one day."

"Well, I guess we have," said Jack. "Besides our train will leave
pretty soon."

By this time quite a number of oil workers had gathered around. There
was considerable excitement, as it had been rumored a number were
killed. As soon as matters quieted down men began attending to the
oil well, which was spouting away at a lively rate, the thick oil
running in many directions.

The hole was piped, and then the stream of crude petroleum was turned
into a channel whence it flowed into a reservoir. It had been a
successful shooting.

As they walked back to the wagon, having brushed the dirt from their
clothes, the boys saw a big hole in the ground, not far from where
Mr. Post had protected them from injury by sending them on the run
out of danger.

"What did that come from?" asked Nat.

"Nitro-glycerine," replied Mr. Baker. "The juice is powerful stuff."

The boys agreed with him.

"Call in and see me any time you're in this direction," said the
well-shooter, as he shook hands at parting with Mr. Post and the
boys.

"I will," replied the miner, "when you've gone into the grocery
business or taken an agency for a life insurance company. Otherwise
it's too risky."

When the travelers got back to the station they found the engineer
putting the finishing touches to the repairs he and the fireman had
been making. The train was about to start.

"Where have you been?" asked the conductor as the boys and the miner
got aboard.

"We've been having a race with death and it nearly won," replied Mr.
Post, more solemnly than he had yet spoken.

"What's the matter with him? Is he one of those religious fanatics?"
asked the conductor, as the miner hurried into the car.

"Not much," answered Jack. "We had as narrow a call as I ever want to
experience." While the train was getting under way he told the
ticket-taker what had happened.

The next stop of importance which was reached early the next morning
was at Cleveland, and there the boys learned they would have to wait
seven hours for another train, as there had been some change in the
schedules.

"Couldn't be better," said Mr. Post, when he heard about it. "I've
always wanted to see a big body of water and here's my chance. What
do you boys say to a trip out on Lake Erie? The trolleys go there, I
heard a brakeman say."

The three chums, who had learned to like their new acquaintance more
and more, thought it would be a fine trip to pass away the time.
Accordingly after dinner, they boarded an electric car which took
them in the direction of the lake.

"Shall we go inside or ride on the platform?" asked the miner, as he
paid the fares.

"Let's stay outside," suggested Nat. "Tumbling trolley cars! But this
is quite a town. Let's see all we can."

So the four remained on the rear platform. It was not crowded, but,
in a little while a number of men got on. The boys and Mr. Post were
obliged to move back into the corner. Still they could see well from
there.

One of the men who was standing close to the miner was smoking a
large cigar. He seemed particular of the ashes, and appeared to be
trying for a record in the matter of the length of them. They
extended from the burned part of the rolled tobacco more than an
inch, and at every lurch of the car, the smoker was quite solicitous
lest they be knocked off.

At length the man standing in front of him jostled against him, as
the car gave a sudden jerk. The ashes flew in a shower over Mr. Post,
who was standing directly behind the smoker.

"What's the matter with you? Don't you know how to ride on a car?"
demanded the man with the cigar, of the one who had jostled him.

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," said the other humbly. "It was not
intentional, I assure you."

"You're a clumsy fellow," the other went on, in a loud voice. "Look
here; you've made me knock ashes all over this gentleman," and he
turned to Mr. Post.

"That's all right," the miner said pleasantly, for he felt sorry for
the other man. "He couldn't help it."

"He ought to be made to help it," the smoker went on, as if very
indignant. "People who don't know how to ride on cars ought to keep
off. I shall write a letter to the papers about it. Allow me to dust
the ashes off your vest."

The man drew from his pocket a large white handkerchief, with which
he began wiping the cigar ashes from Mr. Post's clothing.

"Awfully careless of me, too," he murmured. "Hope you take no
offense."

"Not at all," the miner was saying. "It was all an accident, I'm
sure. You--"

Then, the miner's tone, which had been mild, suddenly changed. He
made a grab for the hand of the young man who was dusting his vest
off, and cried:

"No, you don't, you scoundrel! Now I see what your game is! Let go my
diamond pin or I'll shoot you!" and he made a motion toward his
pocket, while the other passengers on the platform made hasty
movements to get off.




CHAPTER XVII

THE WILD STEER


Mr. Post had the cigar smoker tightly by the wrist. The young man
tried to break away, but as there were other persons between him and
the car steps he was hemmed in. He made a rapid motion toward the
passenger whom he had so berated for jostling him.

"Ah, I thought so!" exclaimed the gray-haired man, who had remained a
quiet spectator of the excitement. "It's about time I took a hand in
the game."

He made a rapid motion, intercepted the hand of the smoker which had
been extended to the original cause of the disturbance, and grabbing
something from it said:

"There's your diamond, stranger. Take care of it until I put the
nippers on these thieves!"

The gray-haired man tried to edge his way around the crowd to get
close to the two men who seemed to be the principal actors in the
adventure. As he did so, the man who had been smoking--making a
flying leap over the back platform railing, darted up the street. At
the same time the man who had been accused of causing the cigar ashes
to scatter over Mr. Post's vest, slipped from the steps and made a
hurried run for the sidewalk.

"After him, some one!" cried the gray-haired man. "I'll get the other
chap. He's the main one. The other is only a confederate," and he was
off in a trice.

The car did not stop, though several men, understanding what it was
all about, called the conductor.

"Can't delay," replied the knight of the bell-rope. "If you want to
see the fun, get off. Pickpockets are too common to stop the car
for."

"Well, I reckon I blocked his game that time," said Mr. Post, as he
looked at the diamond which had lately adorned his shirt front. "I
don't read the newspapers for nothing, and they'll find Josh Post is
hard to beat."

"What did he do to you?" asked some of the passengers.

"Tried to frisk me out of my sparkler," replied the miner. "It's a
new way of working an old trick, but I read about it in a New York
paper last week."

"How did he do it?" asked Jack.

"There were two of 'em," Mr. Post went on. "That fellow had his
cigar, with lots of ashes on it, already for me. Then the other
fellow bunked into him, and he flicked the ashes on me. Of course he
made a play to pretend it was the other fellow's fault, and he
started to brush me off. But while he was doing it with his big
handkerchief, he was taking out my diamond. I caught him just in
time."

"But who was the man who chased him, and gave you back your diamond?"
asked Jack.

"Detective, I reckon," replied the miner. "They're often riding on
the cars on the lookout for just such things as that."

"That's who he was," the conductor explained. "There's been a lot of
pickpockets here lately, and the detectives are riding back and forth
all day. Hope he catches that fellow."

"Don't worry me any," said Mr. Post "I've got my diamond back," and
he placed the sparkling stone in his pocket for safe keeping.

Whether the detective ever caught the slick thief the boys never
learned. They made the trip out to Lake Erie, and when they had
looked at the big body of water and taken a short trip in a launch
they returned to the station to find it was nearly the hour set for
the departure of their train.

"Things seem to be coming our way," remarked Mr. Post after they had
been riding half an hour. "We've had lively times since we met, boys.
But I'll have to leave you in Chicago."

"Perhaps we'll see you again," said Nat. "Have you ever been out
west?"

"In my younger days," replied the miner. "I had a friend once named
Travers--um--no--that wasn't exactly his name either. Travis--
Trellis--Tennis--"

"Tevis!" exclaimed Jack, struck by a sudden inspiration.

"That's it!" cried Mr. Post. "I knew it was something that sounded
like a grape vine. He and I used--"

But what Mr. Tevis, or Trellis, used to do was not told then, for a
second later there sounded a grinding crash and every one in the car
was thrown from his seat while above the sound of hissing steam arose
the shrill cries of several women.

"Wreck!" yelled Mr. Post, struggling to his feet and starting up the
aisle of the car, which was tilted at a steep angle. "We've hit
something!"

By this time, most of the other passengers, who had been thrown here
and there, had extricated themselves from more or less undignified
positions. There were anxious inquiries on every side, and a number
of women fainted. For a while there was a lot of excitement, one lady
going into hysterics at the sight of the bloody hand of a man, who
was cut by a broken window.

Mr. Post had hurried from the car. He came back in a little while,
just as the boys, who were feeling themselves to discover if any
bones were broken, had made up their minds to follow him and learn
what the trouble was.

"What is it?" half a dozen asked the miner.

"We side-swiped a freight car," was the answer.

"Side-swiped?" inquired John Smith, who was not so well up on
Americanisms as the others.

"Why a car projected over the end of a switch," explained Mr. Post.
"Our train came along full tilt, and the engine hit it a glancin'
blow, or a side-swipe, as the railroad men call it."

"Much damage?" asked an elderly gentleman.

"Well, they can't use that freight car without sendin' it to the
hospital," replied Mr. Post, with a smile. "And our engine suffered
minor bruises and contusions, as the papers say when a man is hurt. I
reckon we'll be delayed a bit and it's somethin' I didn't count on."

Mr. Post looked at his watch, and then consulted some papers he took
from a big wallet.

"I've got to be in Chicago at five o'clock to-morrow night," he said
to the boys, "and at the rate we've been delayed I'm going to be
late. It will mean a big loss to me, too, for I counted on putting a
deal through with a friend of mine, Lemuel Liggins. He's to meet me
in the stock yards. I don't suppose you boys are in any great rush,
are you?"

"Well," remarked Jack, "it doesn't make any great difference when we
arrive, but we're supposed to be in Denville at a certain time. A
little delay more or less will not hurt us, but I have something to
do in Denver, and I may need more time than I'm likely to get now."

"Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do," said Mr. Post, "I'm going
to transfer to another line."

"Then we'll do the same," said Jack.

The Chicago train on the other line was on time, and the four
passengers boarded it and were soon being pulled toward the great
city of the Lakes with more comfort than they had experienced on the
other train.

"Ever see the Chicago stock yards?" asked Mr. Post, as they pulled
out of the last station before reaching the big city. "It's a sight
worth looking at," and he went on as the three chums admitted they
had not. "I may not get a chance to show 'em to you, but if you want
to you can get out there with me, and look at 'em on your own hook.
Then you can go into the city."

The lads decided this would be a good plan, and arranged to have
their baggage go to a hotel where they were to stop over night. Mr.
Post prevailed on the conductor to stop the train at a way station,
close to the stock yards, and, when this was reached, he and the
three boys alighted.

It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and Mr. Post found he was
a little ahead of time. He hired a two-seated carriage in which he
and the boys drove to where he was to meet Mr. Liggins.

Soon after leaving the way station the boys were aware of a curious
roaring sound that filled the air. It sounded like distant thunder.

"What is it?" asked Jack.

"It's the cattle in the stock yards," said Mr. Post. "There's
thousands of 'em, and they keep that noise up all the while. Look
ahead, and you can see some of the pens."

The boys looked. In a net work of railroad tracks they saw fenced-in
yards that seemed filled with a living brown mass. From them came
impatient bellows and a shuffling, stamping sound, that told of the
movement of innumerable cows and steers.

"Drive over that way," said Mr. Post to the coachman. "That's where
Lem said he'd meet me."

They were now in the midst of the stock yards. The pens extended on
every side, and the strong odor of the cattle, the noise and seeming
confusion, the tooting of engine whistles, the puffing of
locomotives, the movement of trains, and the wild notes of the
imprisoned animals made a scene the boys never forgot.

"There's my man!" exclaimed Mr. Post. "Hello, Lem! I'm right on
time!"

"So I see," remarked a tall lanky individual, who was standing near
what seemed to be a small office in the midst of the stock yards. "A
little ahead. It's only half past four."

"Everything all right?" asked Mr. Post.

"Sure thing. Who are your friends? Come along to see fair play?"

"Some boys who are going out west," replied Mr. Post. "Now let's get
down to business. Excuse me for awhile, boys. Make yourselves to
home, and I'll be with you after a bit. Look around all you like."

Mr. Post and his friend Lemuel Liggins retired into the small office.
The boys alighted from the carriage, which drew up under a shed, and
then the lads began to take in the various strange sights about them.

"I didn't suppose there were so many cows and steers in all the
world," said Jack.

"Galloping grasshoppers! Neither did I," admitted Nat.

"You've just begun to see the west," said John Smith. "It's a great
place, and a big place."

"Well, we're likely to see some of it in the next few weeks," said
Nat. "I reckon Colorado is a good place to get a wide view from."

"None better," admitted John. "It has a fine climate, and when we get
there--"

At that instant the attention of the boys was attracted by a loud
shouting behind them. They turned, to see a crowd of men and boys
running after a big brown animal.

"One of the cows has got loose," said Nat.

"Cows?" exclaimed John. "It's one of the wild steers, and it looks
like a dangerous one. Better duck for cover."

With a bellow the steer, which had broken from one of the pens, made
straight for the boys. In close chase came the crowd.

Suddenly the pursuing party throng parted, and, with a yell, a
horseman, waving a lasso above his head, galloped after the beast. He
was close to him when the steer, which was near the small office
where Mr. Post and his friend were, turned sharply and darted off to
the right. The horse man, at that instant had made a throw, but the
rope went wild, and, a second later, trying to turn his horse quickly
the steed stumbled and fell.

The steer, with a mad bellow, turned around and started back for the
crowd, that had halted. With lowered head, armed with long, sweeping,
sharp horns, the angry animal leaped forward.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE OLD STOCKMAN


"Someone will get hurt!" cried Jack.

"Here, hold my coat and hat!" exclaimed John, as he thrust those
articles of wearing apparel into Nat's hands.

"What are you going to do?" asked Jack.

"I'm going to rope that steer!" yelled the Indian lad.

He ran to where the cattleman had fallen from his horse. The rider's
leg was caught, and when he tried to stand, as John helped him up, it
was seen that it was broken.

"Is the horse a fast one?" John asked, pulling in the lariat, and
coiling it.

"He sure is," was the answer, while the man stretched out on the
ground to wait for aid, which was on the way.

A moment later John had mounted the horse and was off on a gallop
after the steer, which was circling around in a wild endeavor to
escape into the open. It's wild bellows were producing a panic among
the other animals, that were dashing about in the pens, in imminent
danger of knocking the sides down.

As John, who seemed to be perfectly at home in the saddle, rode at
the animal, it gave a snort and dashed off down a railroad track.
Just ahead of it a freight train was coming, but the steer did not
see it, as it dashed on, with lowered head.

Straight down the track after the steer, raced John, urging the horse
to top speed. Above his head swung the lasso, which the boy handled
almost with the skill of a veteran.

"Come back!" yelled Mr. Post. "Don't you see the train?"

Evidently John did see, but he was not going to stop. He realized
that unless he stopped the maddened steer it would dash ahead on into
the locomotive. While it could not do the ponderous machine any harm,
there was every chance of derailing it, if the wheels ground over the
lifeless body, and a wreck might follow.

"He's a plucky fellow!" exclaimed the cattleman, as some of his
friends came to carry him to a place where his injured leg could be
set.

The pony John was riding entered into the spirit of the race. It was
work for which he had been trained, and, though chasing after wild
steers down a railroad track was not like doing it out on the plains,
it was "all in the day's work." With nimble feet the pony leaped from
tie to tie, on and on and on after the maddened brute.

The engineer of the freight was blowing the whistle in frantic toots
to warn the steer from the track, but the animal did not heed.

"He'll never make it," exclaimed Jack.

"Timbuctoo and turntables!" cried Nat. "He's a brave one. Never knew
he could ride like that."

John dug his heels into the pony's side to urge it to another burst
of speed. Then, with a shout, he whirled the lasso in ever widening
circles about his head. Suddenly he sent it whirling straight ahead.
Like a thin snake the rope hissed forward, and then fell in coils
about the neck of the steer. John had taken a turn or two about the
pommel of the saddle, and, true to its training, the little pony
settled back on its haunches.

The next instant it seemed as if the steer had met a cyclone. It went
down in a heap, a wild mixture of horns and flying hoofs. And, not a
second too soon, for, as it rolled from the track, being fairly
snatched from the rails by the taut-ness of the rope, the train came
gliding up, though under reduced speed, and severed the lariat.

Then John, with a motion of his wrist, guided the pony from the path
to the train, which the engineer was doing his best to bring to a
stop. The boy and steed easily got out of the way, and then, turning
the pony, John rode to where he had left his companions. The steer,
all the desire for fight gone, stood dejectedly beside the track, and
a number of men, who had hurried up, took charge of it.

[Illustration: IT SEEMED AS IF THE STEER HAD MET A CYCLONE-Page 154]

"Say, that was the best bit of work I ever saw done!" commented Mr.
Post, as he came from the office where he and Mr. Liggins had been
talking. "I watched you through the window. Put it there, pardner,"
and he extended his hand, which John grasped.

"Where'd you learn to ride, young man?" asked Mr. Liggins, in
business-like tones.

"Some of my Indian relatives taught me," replied John modestly, as he
dismounted. "I'm not very good at it though. Haven't had any
practice."

"You don't need it!" exclaimed Mr. Liggins.
 "Say, young fellow, I'd like to hire you. I need you out here. We
have accidents like this every day, only not so sensational, and if
you can save a steer that way once in a while you'd more than earn
your salary."

"Much obliged," John said, "but I can't take your offer."

"Why didn't you tell us you could rope a steer and handle a cow
pony?" inquired Jack,

"You never asked me," was John's reply. "You see I have some Indian
traits in me, even if I am only a half-breed."

"Well, you certainly can throw a rope," Jack admitted. "Wish I could
do half as well."

"Rollicking rattlesnakes! But I'm going to learn as soon as we get
out on the ranch," put in Nat.

"I guess you'll both have plenty of opportunity," John remarked.

"Well, what are you boys going to do now?" asked Mr. Post. "I'm
through with my business, and I've got to stay in town a few days,
but I'll be so busy I'm afraid I'll not get much chance to see you.
Besides you're going right on, aren't you?"

"That's our plan," said Jack.

"Well, I'll leave you then," went on the miner, "got to see another
man in the yards. I may meet you again, some day, and I may not. This
world's an uncertain place. Anyway, I'm glad I met you, and if you
ever get into trouble and I can help you, why just wire me. My
general address, for a year or two, will be Chicago, care of Lemuel
Liggins. He'll see that you get into the city from here, all right,
and will take good care of you. Now I'm off," and shaking hands with
the boys and with Mr. Liggins, the miner hurried away down the maze
of stock yards.

"Come inside the office and rest a bit," invited Mr. Liggins. "You've
got lots of time, and I'll drive you to town later."


"Wait a minute!" cried Jack, darting after Mr. Post.

He ran from the office and started down the maze of tracks in the
direction the miner had taken. But Mr. Post was not to be seen. He
had either met some acquaintance and gone into one of the numerous
small offices and shacks that dotted the yards, or else was lost in
the crowds. Jack soon came back, looking disappointed.

"What did you want of him?" asked Nat.

"I wanted to find out more about Orion Tevis," replied Jack. "You
remember he spoke of him just before the accident when we collided
with the freight, and I meant to ask him if he knew the man on whom
the finding of my father may depend. But I forgot about it in all the
excitement. Now it's too late."

"Who did you want to inquire about?" asked Mr. Liggins, coming
forward. "Excuse me, but I happened to hear you mention a strange
sounding name."

"Orion Tevis," said Jack. "Do you know anything about him, Mr.
Liggins?"

"Do I? Well I guess I do. Me and him didn't work as mining pardners
for ten years for nothing. I reckon I do know Orion Tevis. So does
Josh Post."

"Where is he now?" asked Jack eagerly. "I must find him. He may know
where my father is, who is in hiding because of the scheming of some
wicked men."

"Well, now you have got me," Mr. Liggins said. "I haven't seen Tevis
for some years, not since he retired from active work. He speculates
in cattle now and then, and I had a letter from him a few months
ago."

"Where is that letter now?" asked Jack, his voice trembling with
eagerness.

"Land live you! I guess I burned it up," replied Mr. Liggins. "I
never save letters. Get too many of 'em. But it was from some place
out in Colorado. A little country town, I reckon, or I'd have
remembered the name."

"Try to think of it," pleaded Jack. "A lot may depend on it. I may be
able to get Mr. Tevis's address from the Capital Bank in Denver, but
they may refuse to give it to me, or may have lost it."

"Wish I could help you, son," said Mr. Liggins, sympathetically. "But
I reckon I lost that letter. Hold on, though, maybe I can fix you up.
You say his address is at the Capital Bank?"

"That's what I understand."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised. Come to think of it now, he did write
me he transacted all his business through them. More than that he
sent me a sort of card to use in case I ever got out there, and
wanted to see him. Said there was reasons why he didn't want every
one to know where he was, so he instructed the bank to give his
address to only those who showed a certain kind of card. I reckon I
kept that card as a sort of curiosity."

"I hope so," murmured Jack.

The stockman began looking through a big wallet he pulled from his
pocket. It was stuffed with papers and bills.

"Here it is!" he exclaimed, as he extended a rather soiled bit of
pasteboard. "Queer looking thing."

Indeed it was. The card had a triangle drawn in the center. Inside of
this was a circle, with a representation of an eye. In each of the
angles were, respectively, a picture of a dagger, a revolver and a
gun. On top appeared this:

"_In Medio tutissimus ibis_"

"Don't seem to mean anything as far as I've ever been able to make
out," Mr. Liggins said. "Looks like a cross between a secret order
card and a notice from the vigilance committee. And them words on the
top I take to be some foreign language, but I never went to school
enough to learn 'em."

"They're Latin," said Jack, "and mean, literally, 'you will go most
safely in the middle,' or, I suppose, 'the middle way is safest.'"

"That's like Orion Tevis," commented the stockman. "He was always a
cautious fellow, and rather queer here,"--he tapped his forehead.
"But now I don't mind giving you that card. It may be no good, and it
may help you. If it does I'll be glad of it. I owe you a good turn.
That was one of my steers that broke away, and I'm glad it didn't
cause a freight wreck."

"I'll take good care of this," said Jack, as he put the card in his
pocket, "and send it back to you."

"Well, if you find Tevis, just do as he says about it," the cattleman
answered. "Now I'll drive you back to the city."

Jack was much pleased at getting the card. He felt it would help him
in his strange quest after his father.

"It will be additional evidence, for us" he said to John. "Mr. Tevis
might think the rings were spurious."

"Not much danger of that," the Indian answered. "Still, the card may
come in handy."

Mr. Liggins drove the boys to the hotel where they were to stay over
night. They consulted the time-tables in the lobby, and learned that
their train did not leave until the next afternoon.

"Now for a good night's sleep," said Jack, as he and his chums were
being taken up in the elevator to their rooms that night. At the
sound of the lad's voice a tall, dark man, in the corner of the car
started. Then, as he caught a glimpse of the boys' faces, he turned
so his own was in the shadow.

"Well, well, luck has certainly turned things my way," he murmured.
"Here's where I get even for the trick they played me on the train."

Little imagining they were menaced by one who felt himself their
enemy, the three chums went to their rooms, which adjoined.

"Very good," whispered the dark man, who had remained in the corridor
as the boys walked it. "I think I will pay you a visit to-night."




CHAPTER XIX

A THIEF IN THE NIGHT


The boys were so tired from their day's adventures, and their travel
that they did not need a bit of paregoric to make them sleep, as Nat
expressed it, while he was undressing. They left the connecting doors
open between their rooms, and, after putting their money and
valuables under their pillows, soon fell into deep slumbers.

It was about two o'clock in the morning when a dark figure stole
along the corridor and came to a halt outside the door leading to
Jack's room.

"Doesn't make much difference which one I go in, I s'pose," was a
whispered comment from the man, who was the same that had ridden up
with the boys in the elevator.

There was a slight clicking about the lock. Then something snapped.

"No go that time," whispered the man. "Try another key."

He selected one from among a bunch he held in his hand, and inserted
it in the lock of the door leading to Jack's room. This time there
was a different sort of click,

"That's the time I did it," the intruder remarked softly. "Now to see
if I can't get some of the money they made me lose on that other
deal."

Cautiously the man pushed open the door a few inches. It did not
squeak, but, even when he had ascertained this, the thief did not
enter at once. He paused, listening to the breathing of the three
boys.

"Sound asleep," he muttered. "No trouble. This is easy."

On tiptoes he entered the room. The lights were all out but enough
illumination came in from the street lights through the windows, to
enable the intruder to see dimly. He noted that the connecting doors
were open.

"Easier than I thought," he muttered. "Now if they're like other
travelers they have everything under their pillows. If they only knew
that is the easiest place to get anything from! Pillows are so soft,
and you can get your hand under one without waking up the slightest
sleeper, if you go slow and careful."

Up to the bedside of Jack the man stole. At every other step he
stopped to listen. He moved as silently as a cat.

"I fancy the laugh will be on the other side this trip," the man
murmured. "I ought to get considerable from all three of them."

By this time he had come so near to where Jack was sleeping that he
could put out his hand and touch the bed. An instant later his
fingers were gliding under the pillow. They grasped a leather
pocketbook. Had it been light enough a smile of satisfaction could
have been seen on the face of the thief in the night.

"Number one," he remarked in a soft whisper.

He moved into the next room, taking care not to stumble over a chair
or stool. He easily secured Nat's valuables, and then ventured into
John's apartment.

"Ten minutes more and I'm through," the burglar thought.

When he got to John's bedside, he listened for a few seconds. The
Indian student could be heard breathing in his slumbers, but at the
sound the man hesitated.

"A slight sleeper," was his unspoken comment. "Liable to wake up on
the slightest alarm. I've got to be careful."

His trained observance, despite the evil purpose to which it was put,
had at once told the intruder that John was a light and nervous
slumberer. Nevertheless the thief decided to risk it. He moved his
hand, inch by inch, under John's pillow. A shadow would have made no
more noise. It took him nearly twice as long as it had to get the
pocketbooks from Nat and Jack, but at length he was successful.
Holding the three in his hand he made his way to the door whence he
had entered.

"I think I'll just take a look at what sort of a haul I made, before
I leave here," the man said. "No use carting a lot of useless stuff
away."

There was a dim light burning in the hall, nearly opposite Jack's
door. Half concealed by the portal the man paused just within the
room and looked over the contents of the pocketbooks.

"Plenty of bills," he observed.

He took the money out and made it into one roll, and this he held in
his hand. Rapidly he went through the other compartments of the
wallets. He came across the queer card which Mr. Liggins had given
Jack.

"Might as well take that along," he said to himself. "No telling what
it is, but it might come in handy. I might want to pretend I belonged
to the order, for it looks like a lodge emblem. I'll stow that away."

The thief laid the wallets and the money down on the floor, while he
reached in a pocket to get a card case in which he carried his few
valuables. He placed the odd bit of pasteboard inside this.

"Now to toss the wallets aside and skip with the cash," he murmured,
and suiting the action to his words he began to move softly into the
corridor.

It was a good thing that nature had endowed John with a nervous
temperament, and had made him a light sleeper. For, at that instant,
or maybe a little before, some peculiar action on the Indian's nerves
conveyed a message to his brain.

It was not a clear and definite sort of message, in fact it was
rather confused--in the same shape as a dream. John seemed to be
riding a big cow pony down a steep incline, after a big buffalo on
whose back sat a dark, smooth-shaven man. The same man, John thought
in his dream, he had seen in the elevator that evening.

And while John was riding for dear life after the buffalo, he thought
he saw the strange man turn back and go to where the three boys had
left their coats on the grassy bank of Lake Rudmore. John fancied he
gave up his pursuit of the buffalo to leap off and run to where the
thief was stealing his own and his comrades' possessions.

The shock of leaping from the back of a swiftly running pony, and
rolling head over heals as a result, awoke John, or, rather, the
peculiar action of his dream did. He sat up in bed with a jump, just
in time to see the thief putting the money into his pocket, and, with
the three wallets, steal out into the corridor.

It must have been the continuance of the dream that made John act so
quickly. He leaped out of bed, half asleep as he was, and, with a
yell that sounded enough like an Indian warwhoop to startle his two
companions, he made a dash for the man.

Out of the room and down the dimly lighted hall dashed the Indian
student. Before him fled the thief.

"Stop!" yelled John.

"What's the matter?" cried Jack, sitting up in bed and rubbing the
sleep from his eyes. "Is the place on fire?"

"What's the matter? Have we missed the train?" Nat demanded to know.

"Thieves!" was all John replied.

By this time several guests of the hotel had awakened and there were
anxious inquiries as to what was going on. The thief sped down the
long corridor, with John, clad only in his nightdress, after him. The
fellow tossed the wallets down, but the flat way in which they fell
told John the intruder had taken their most valuable contents from
them.

Well for the Indian that he was a fleet runner. Few there were who
could have distanced him, and certainly the rascal who was out of
training in athletic lines could not. A few more strides, and John
grabbed the man by the coat.

"Now I've got you!" the Indian shouted.

A moment later the two went down in a heap, the man's legs having
slipped from under him. But, even in the fall, John did not let go
his hold. The man kept one hand in his pocket. In the flickering
gaslight the Indian saw this, and rightly guessed that there the
money was.

Quick as a flash John slipped his hand in and found the man was
grasping something tightly.

"Let go!" the fellow growled.

"Not much!" exclaimed John. "I'm after our money!"

"I'll--I'll--cut you!" panted the thief.

"Police! Murder! Fire!" yelled a woman outside of whose door the
desperate struggle was now going on.

With a great effort John loosened the hand that clenched the money.
Then the Indian drew out the bills. The thief tried to grab them
back. As he did so John tried to get up, having accomplished the main
part of his purpose, that of saving his own and his chums' money.
But, as he did so, the thief gave a roll, to get on top. This brought
him to the edge of a flight of stairs, and, a second later the two
were rolling down.

Bump! Bump! Bump! they went until they reached a landing. John's head
struck the baseboard, and, for a moment he was stunned. There was a
rush of feet in the corridor above.

"Hold him! We're coming!" was the cry.

John heard dimly. Then a blackness seemed to come over him. The
lights faded away. He just remembered thrusting his hand containing
the bills into his pocket, and then he fainted away.

The thief, with nimble feet, was half way down the second flight of
stairs by now, for, finding the hold of his captor loosened, he made
the best of his opportunity.

"Have you got him, John?" yelled Jack.

"Hold him until I come!" shouted Nat.

They had both run out into the hallway in time to see John pursuing
the thief. They reached the top of the stairs just as the fellow
fled.

The thief, as he ran down the stairs, cast up one look. Jack Ranger
saw him, the light from a gas jet in the lower corridor shining full
on the man's face.

"Professor Punjab! Hemp Smith!" exclaimed Jack, as he recognized the
fakir who called himself Marinello Booghoobally.

"Did he get away?" asked Nat, coming up just then.

"Yes, and I guess he's killed John," said Jack, his heart failing
him.




CHAPTER XX

A STRANGE SEANCE


By this time the corridors, above and below were filled with excited
men, all scantily attired. Nat and Jack ran to where John was lying
on the landing, and lifted his head.

"I'm all right," exclaimed the Indian, as he opened his eyes. "Got a
bad one on the head, that's all. I can walk."

He proceeded to demonstrate this by standing up and mounting the
stairs.

"Did he get our money?" asked Nat.

In answer John showed the roll he still held tightly clenched in his
hand.

"Here are some pocketbooks," called a man from the upper hall.

"Then we're all right, after all," spoke Jack. "Money and pocketbooks
safe. How did it happen? How did you land on him, John?"

"He was in our room," replied the Indian. "I woke up and saw him.
Then I chased out, that's all."

The man who had picked up the pocketbooks handed them to Jack. The
boy saw his own on top, and opened it, as he had a number of
souvenirs and keepsakes in it. As he glanced in he uttered a cry of
surprise.

"The card Mr. Liggins gave me to present to Mr. Tevis is gone!" he
exclaimed. "Here! We must catch Professor Punjab! He has my card.
Come on!"

Jack was about to rush down the stairs but was stopped by several of
the men.

"You can't catch him," they said. "Besides, the police may have him
by now. Go back and get dressed."

The boys decided this was good advice, particularly as they were
getting chilled, for the halls were draughty. They donned some
clothes, and were all ready when several bluecoats and a number of
detectives in plain clothes arrived.

"Where'd they get in?" asked a big man, with a very black moustache.
"Let's see what sort of a job it was."

"Right in here," said the hotel manager, leading the way to where the
boys roomed. "From all accounts this was the only place he broke
into."

"Didn't really lose anything, did you?" asked the black-moustached
one of the boys.

"He got a valuable card," said Jack. "I would not like to lose it."

"What do you mean, a playing card; one you carried for luck?"

"No, I don't carry such things for luck," replied Jack. "It had a
message on it."

He described the queer bit of pasteboard Mr, Liggins had given him.

"Oh I see; it was a sort of charm," interposed the detective with the
light moustache.

"Well, we'll make a round of the pawnshops tomorrow. Maybe we'll
locate it."

"I don't believe so," said Jack, half to himself. "It's not a thing
that would be pawned."

The boy felt that Professor Punjab would be very likely to keep the
card, thinking it might be some mysterious talisman, which could be
used to advantage in his peculiar line of work. So Jack had little
faith in what the detective said.

There was nothing more for the police or detectives to do. No trace
of the thief was to be found, and, after a general look around, the
officers departed and the hotel settled down to normal quietness. The
boys went back to bed, but it was some time before they fell asleep.

Jack dozed uneasily, wondering how he was going to regain possession
of the card which Professor Punjab had stolen.

"You ought to be thankful it wasn't our money, which it would have
been, only for John," said Nat next morning. "Penetrating peanuts!
When I think of what might have happened I shudder," and he gave an
imitation of a cold chill running down his back.

"It's bad enough," said Jack. "Of course we need the money, but we
could get more on a pinch. We can't get another card like that,
though, and we may need it very much. At least I will."

"Let's go to the police and make them find it," suggested Nat.

"They'll never find it," put in John, who sat in a chair with his
head bandaged. "We'll have to depend on ourselves."

The robbery, and John's slight wound, necessitated a change in their
plans. They wired to Mr. Kent, Nat's uncle, that they would be
delayed. Then they arranged to stay several days in Chicago.

The hotel proprietor insisted on sending a physician, to see the
Indian. The medical man prescribed a rest, and, while John stayed in
his room his chums paid several visits to the police. Jack impressed
them with the value of the card, and the detectives really made
efforts to find it, and to arrest the "professor," but without
result.

One evening, as Jack and Nat came back from a visit to police
headquarters, they found John much excited.

"I think I'm on the right track," he said.

"How?" asked Jack.

"Listen to this" John went on, holding up a newspaper, and he read:

"Attention, all who suffer or are in distress. Professor Ali Baba,
one of the descendants of the Forty Thieves, who has devoted his life
to undoing the wrong they did, will give palm readings, star gazings,
trance answers, locate the lost, and, by a method learned from an
Indian Yogi, double your money. Readings one dollar up."

"You're not going to be taken in by one of those foolish
clairvoyants, are you?" asked Jack.

"Not exactly," said John. "But if I am right I think this Professor
Ali Baba is Hemp Smith, or Professor Punjab under another name."

"What makes you think so?" inquired Nat. "Rip-snorting radiators! But
if it should be!"

"That last clause about doubling your money, by the Indian method
leads me to believe it," said John. "That is how Punjab tried to rob
Mr. Post. Now I'm going to try this and see what it amounts to."

"But he'll know you as soon as he sees you," objected Nat.

"Not the way I fix up," replied the Indian.

The boys talked over the plan, and agreed it would do no harm for
John to attend a seance of the professor, whose address was given in
the advertisement.

[Illutsration: Give me the card!--Page 177]

John's best friend would hardly have known him as he sallied forth
the next day. He wore the bandages on his head, which was cut by his
fracas with the fake professor, and, in addition, he had tied one
about his jaw, as though he had the toothache.

He had no difficulty in finding the place. Outside the door was a
sign reading:

PROFESSOR ALI BABA. SCIENTIST.

John was admitted by a rather slick individual, in a shining, greasy
suit of black.

"The professor is busy just now," he said. "He will see you soon.
Meanwhile you had better give me a dollar, and state on which
particular line you wish to consult him."

John handed over a two dollar bill and said:

"Tell him to make it extra strong. I have lost a valuable article."

"I am sure he can find it for you," the sleek man said. "The
professor has wonderful success."

"Well he oughtn't to have much trouble finding this if he's the man I
take him for," thought John. As yet he was all at sea. He wanted to
get a glimpse of Professor Ali Baba.

At last his turn came. Carefully keeping his face concealed, John was
shown into a room gaudily decorated with tinsel and cheap hangings.

"Who seeks the knowledge the stars alone possess?" asked a deep
voice.

Jack started. He recognized at once the tones of the recent Professor
Punjab. An instant later he had a glimpse of the pretended
astrologer's face and knew he could not be mistaken.

"Draw near," said the fakir. "I know what thou seekest. It is that
which thou hast lost, and it is more precious to thee than rubies."

"In this particular instance it is," thought John, but he did not
answer at once, as he was so excited he could hardly control his
voice. He did not want the swindler to recognize him.

"Tell me but the veriest outline of that which thou seekest and I
will not only describe it, but tell you where you may find it, if the
stars so will," Punjab went on.

"It is very difficult," said John, speaking in a sort of whisper. He
wanted to gain a little time, to think best how to proceed. He had
been more successful than he dared to hope. His reasoning had been
exactly right. Now he wanted to make sure of success.

"No problem is too hard for those who read their answers in the
stars," replied the fakir. "Describe what you have lost."

"It is square," said John, slowly, and he drew a little closer to
where the pretended astrologer sat on a divan in the midst of
hangings, which let but little light into the room.

"Yes, square."

"And flat."

"Yes. Now one more little detail. I begin to see a glimmering of it
before me," and Professor Ali Baba pretended to go into a trance.

"It is white with black markings on it," John went on. "In fact it is
something you have right here in this house."

"What's that?" fairly shouted the professor.

"It's that card you stole from Jack Ranger!" went on John, coming
close to the fakir and gripping him by the wrists. "The card you took
from his pocketbook the night you broke into our rooms. I want it
back! Give it up, you scoundrel, or I'll call in the police."

"Let go!" yelled the professor.

"Give me the card!" shouted the Indian, struggling to hold the man,
who was trying to break away.

"Help!" cried the professor.

The curtains parted and the man who had answered John's summons at
the door entered.




CHAPTER XXI

FINDING ORION TEVIS


"What's the matter?" exclaimed the slick individual.

"He's trying to rob me!" shouted the fakir.

"It's the other way around!" came from John. "I'm trying to get back
something he stole from a friend of mine. Give up that card, you
rascal, or I'll yell for the police!"

At the same time the Indian youth, who was strong for his age, gave
the wrists of Punjab such a wrench that the man cried out in pain.
Whether it was this, or the knowledge that he could not afford to
have a clash with the officers of the law John never decided, but the
professor muttered:

"I'll give you the card. Let go!"

"Want any help?" asked the sleek and shiny individual.

"Don't you interfere!" exclaimed John, "or I'll have you arrested
too. Better keep out of this. The professor knows when he's beaten."

"Let go of me," muttered the fakir.

"Where's the card?" asked John.

"It's in my pocket, but I can't get it while you hold my hands," the
pretended astrologer said.

The Indian youth released his grip, but kept close watch of the
professor. The latter lifted up the gaudy robe and disclosed
underneath ordinary street clothing. He reached into an inner pocket
and brought out the card.

"That's it!" cried John, grabbing it before the professor had a
chance to play any more tricks. "That's what I want!"

"Now you've got it, you'd better get out of my house," said Punjab,
trying to assume his dignity which John had sadly ruffled.

"Only too glad to," the Indian student said, and, carrying the
precious card in his hand he hurried from the place, throwing aside
his bandages as he did so.

"I'll get even with you boys yet," he heard Marinello Booghoobally,
_alias_ Hemp Smith, _alias_ Professor Punjab, _alias_ Ali Baba, call
after him. But John was not worried over this and soon was back at
the hotel where his companions anxiously waited him.

"Any luck?" asked Jack.

"The best," replied John, and he told them all that had happened from
the time he entered Ali Baba's place until he secured the card,
which, he had turned over to Jack as soon as he got in. The police
were notified, but the fakir was too quick for them and escaped.

"Now we'd better go straight for Denver," said Nat. "We're behind in
our schedule now, and maybe my uncle will not wait for us."

John and Jack thought this a good scheme, so, having settled their
hotel bill, they were soon aboard a train again, and speeding
westward. They made good time, in spite of a few delays by slight
accidents, and arrived in Denver at night.

"It's too late to go to the Capital Bank," said Jack. "Wish we'd have
gotten in earlier. But we'll make inquiries about Orion Tevis the
first thing in the morning."

Long before the bank opened the boys had inquired their way to it
from the hotel where they stopped. As soon as the doors were swung,
to indicate that business might be transacted, Jack led the way into
the marble-tiled corridor of the institution.

"Who do you want to see?" asked a uniformed porter.

"The president," said Jack boldly, thinking it best to begin at the
top, and work down if necessary.

"Want to deposit a million dollars I s'pose," the porter said with a
sort of sneer. Evidently his breakfast had not agreed with him.

"I came here to inquire for the address of Mr. Orion Tevis," replied
Jack sharply, 

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