“He’s mad clean through, that’s certain,” remarked Roger, as he and Dave hurried out of the office to watch Nick Jasniff gallop away down the road leading from the construction camp.

“Yes. And I’ve no doubt but he’ll do his best to make trouble for us,” replied Dave seriously. “It’s too bad! I thought we were done with that fellow forever.”

“Do you suppose he really has a job at the Double Eight Ranch?” queried the senator’s son, after a pause, during which they noted Jasniff’s disappearance around a bend of the trail.

“He must be working somewhere. Or else somebody has supplied him with funds. He can’t live on nothing.”

“Perhaps he got his funds as he got those stolen jewels, Dave.”

“That might be true too. They say very few men reform after they have once been in prison.”

“Let us ask some of the others about this Double Eight Ranch.”

59This suggestion was considered a good one, and during the next few days they made a number of inquiries concerning the ranch in question, and learned that it was a large place located in a fertile valley about twenty miles away. It was owned by a syndicate of Western capitalists and was under the management of a man named James Dackley. The ranch employed about a dozen experienced cowboys and an equal number of assistants.

“If Nick Jasniff works there it must be simply as an assistant, since he knows little about a cowboy’s duties,” was Dave’s comment.

“Yes. And if he is only an assistant he can’t be paid very much money. No wonder he wanted to join our crowd. I suppose he thought he could earn two or three times as much.”

“Well, Roger, you can’t blame him for wanting to earn money,” returned Dave briefly. “Now that he has paid the penalty of his crime, as the laws puts it, he has as much right to go where he pleases, and work at what he pleases, as anybody.”

“Oh, I’m not begrudging him a chance to earn his living,” cried the senator’s son quickly. “I hope he reforms and gets along well in life. I only want him to keep away from where I am. I think I’ve got a right to pick my company, and I don’t propose to pick such fellows as Jasniff.”

Sunday passed, and then Dave received another 60letter from Phil Lawrence stating that the ship-owner’s son had been delayed, but that he would surely come West in the near future, and that not only Shadow Hamilton but also Ben Basswood had promised to make the trip with him. Concerning Ben, Phil wrote as follows:

“You must know how grateful the Basswoods are to you and Roger for recovering those thousands of dollars’ worth of miniatures down there on the Border. I think they feel pretty wealthy now, having been offered a fine price for some of the little paintings. So it was an easy matter for Ben to get permission to join Shadow and me when the trip was proposed. Ben is wild, thinking what a good time he is going to have, for, as you know, he has never had the chance of getting around that we have had.”

“This is better than ever!” cried Roger, when he read the communication. “Talk about old times at Oak Hall! We will tear things wide open when they arrive.”

“We’ll have to attend to our work, Roger. You know we are here to learn all about surveying and civil engineering. Our play days are very largely at an end.”

“Oh, I think Mr. Obray and Frank Andrews will let us cut loose a little—after they understand matters,” pleaded the senator’s son.

The same mail had brought the young men letters 61from Jessie and Laura and also an interesting communication from Dave’s Uncle Dunston. The two girls had been on a trip to New York with Mrs. Wadsworth, and had much to tell about their sightseeing in and around the metropolis. Both said they wished Dave and Roger had been with them.

“Too bad! But we are a long way from old New York,” sighed Roger. “My, what a grand old time we could have had, visiting Bronx Park, Coney Island, and a lot of other places!”

“Yes. And we might have taken an auto trip or two,” added Dave, his face brightening.

“And think of being with the girls, Dave!” broke in Roger wistfully. “It seems a terribly long time since we saw them, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does,” answered Dave. He gave something of a sigh. “Well, it can’t be helped. If we want to make something of ourselves in this world, we’ve got to buckle down and take the bitter with the sweet. I guess it’s just as hard on the girls. They won’t want to go out in company with any of the other fellows.”

“And we know what we are working for—and that is one comfort,” added the senator’s son.

In his communication to his nephew Dunston Porter spoke about having bought some stock in the Mentor Construction Company, and having gotten Mr. Wadsworth to make the same kind of 62investment. Between them the two had put up twenty thousand dollars.

“That sure is something worth while!” cried Roger. “It ought to help your chance with the concern.”

“Well, if it helps my chance, it’s got to help your chance, too, Roger.”

“I never thought of the company as an investment,” went on the senator’s son. “I think when I write to my father I’ll speak to him about it, and tell him of what your uncle and Mr. Wadsworth have done. Maybe my father will buy a like share.”

“That would be fine, Roger. Then both of us could feel as if we had a real personal interest in the concern we were working for. Of course, it’s only a small amount in comparison with what the construction company really has invested in this business. But every little helps.”

“Yes. And it will prove to those higher up that we have some interest beyond just earning our salaries.”

Another part of Dunston Porter’s letter referred to the clearing up of a tract of land on the outskirts of Crumville which belonged jointly to the Porters, Mr. Wadsworth and an estate which was represented by Mr. Basswood. The real estate dealer had said that now would be a good time in which to lay out streets through the tract 63and sell off the plots for building. There were several new factories being erected down along the railroad tracks, and the workingmen employed in these concerns would want homes.

“The tract has not been used for a number of years,” wrote Dunston Porter; “and during the past six summers a band of gypsies has been making its encampment there. We had quite some trouble getting the gypsies to evacuate, and a couple of them became so ugly that we had to threaten them with arrest. But they have gone at last, and we have told them that they cannot come back. We expect to lay out the streets and the plots of ground immediately, and then Mr. Basswood is going to get ready and hold a big auction sale of the various parcels. All of us hope to make quite some money by the transaction.”

“Hurrah for the auction sale of building lots!” cried Dave. “I hope they make a barrel of money. Wouldn’t it be fun to be there and see the various plots sold off?”

“I went to a sale like that in our home town years ago,” returned Roger. “They had a big tent put up and furnished refreshments, and a small brass band played selections. The auctioneer was a very gifted talker, and he made a wonderful address to the assemblage, telling them of all the advantages to be had by buying the lots. Then the agents got busy and the lots sold off like hot cakes, some for cash and some on the instalment 64plan. At that time there wasn’t a building of any kind on the land; but less than a year later there were half a dozen rows of houses and half that number of barns and garages, and now that end of the town is quite thriving.”

“I’m sure Crumville is bound to grow,” returned Dave. “Just look at what it was when I was a small boy and what it is to-day! We have three or four times as many people and stores, and we have a new railroad station with a good many more trains, and two moving picture theaters, two new schools, another church, and several new factories. And not only that, the business men have become so wideawake that they are gathering in the trade for miles around—trade that used to go to other towns.”

“Well, I hope it does grow, Dave. That will make it so much better for your folks and the Wadsworths, and also the Basswoods.”

On the morning following this conversation Dave was preparing to go out with the others when one of the clerks from the office came to him with the information that Mr. Obray wanted to see him at once. He found the manager of the construction camp deep in some papers strewn over his desk.

“Porter, would you like to go on a special errand for me over to Orella?” the manager asked abruptly. “I’ve got some important papers that 65I wish delivered, and I want to see to it that they are placed in the hands of just the right party.”

“Why, yes, Mr. Obray, I’ll be glad to do whatever you want me to,” answered Dave quickly. “It’s quite a trip though, so I’ve heard,” he added with a smile.

“I know that, Porter. But the trail is a good one all the way; and if you follow the signboards you can’t go astray. You can take a good horse, and you had better take something to eat along, too. If you start inside of the next hour, you ought to be able to get back before dark. Of course, if you have any difficulty in finding the right party, you can stay in Orella all night and come back to-morrow.”

“Oh, I think I can make the trip in one day, provided I don’t have to lose too much time in the mining camp. I’ll be ready inside of fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“Then go ahead, and when you’re ready I’ll give you the papers and also tell you who they are to be delivered to.”

When Dave rejoined his chum he told Roger about the proposed trip.

“You’re in luck, Dave!” cried the senator’s son. “That will make a dandy outing. I wish I was going along.”

“I thought at first of asking Mr. Obray to let you go,” answered Dave. “But then I got to 66thinking about the time we would want off when Phil and the others came, and I didn’t want to crowd things too much.”

“Oh, no, I’m glad you didn’t,” was the hasty response. “I don’t want to have the manager thinking we are loafing on the job.”

Dave ran over to the kitchen and there had Jeff, the cook, put him up a substantial lunch. Then he dressed himself for the long, hard ride through the mountains, and a little later presented himself again at the office.

“Here are the papers,” said Ralph Obray, handing over a large and fat legal-looking envelope. “I want you to deliver them to Mr. Raymond Carson or, if Mr. Carson is not there, to either his wife or his brother-in-law, Mr. Fred Jamison. If you deliver this to the wife or the brother-in-law, tell them that the papers are very valuable and that they must not be given to anyone but Mr. Carson.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the young civil engineer. And to make sure of the names he put them down in the notebook he carried. “I suppose I had better get a receipt for them,” he added.

“Yes, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to do that, Porter, although I know I can take your word for it. I have watched you ever since you came to work for our company, and that is why I am trusting you in the present instance.”

67“You can rely on me to do my best, Mr. Obray,” answered our hero. And then with pardonable pride he drew from his pocket the letter he had received from his uncle. “I guess this will prove to you how much I am interested in the Mentor Construction Company,” and thereupon he showed the manager the paragraph pertaining to the purchase of stock in the concern by the Porters and Mr. Wadsworth.

“That certainly is evidence!” cried Ralph Obray heartily. “I am glad to know your people take such a substantial interest in this company. I might as well tell you, my folks have an interest in it, too. But now you had better be on your way, because it’s a long trip to Orella and I won’t feel entirely satisfied until I know those papers are in the hands of Mr. Carson or those other people.”

“I’ll get them there just as soon as I can make it,” answered Dave.

And a few minutes later he was on his way, never dreaming of the strange adventure in store for him.