Читать книгу Frank Merriwell, Jr., in Arizona; or, Clearing a Rival's Record - Burt L. Standish - Страница 9

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The lads were somewhat confused as to the direction from which the report had come. They were all agreed on one point, however, and that was that the shot had been fired on their side of the gulch. From there on, their ideas of the right direction varied widely. Clustered together on the crest of the long slope of the gulch bank, they held a hurried consultation, to decide what their next move should be.

“I’m sure,” said Bleeker, “that the sound came from the northwest.”

“Northeast, Bleek,” asserted Hotchkiss.

“Directly north,” a chap named Lenaway declared, with equal conviction.

“What do you think, Merriwell?” asked Bleeker.

“It’s hard to tell,” Frank answered. “If we’d been listening for the shot, and trying to locate it, we might have got the direction tolerably close; but the sound came when we weren’t expecting anything of the kind, so that the way we ought to go is more or less of a guess. I’m inclined to think you’re right, though, Bleek.”

“Pick out a couple to go with you, Hotch,” said Bleeker, “and go northeast. You do the same, Len, and go north. Merry and I will go over towards the cañon.”

Frank turned and gave Clancy and Ballard a significant look.

“You go with Hotch, Clan,” said he, “and Pink, you go with Lenaway.”

Clancy and Ballard understood Merriwell’s reason for this move. If the party led by Hotchkiss, or the one led by Lenaway, succeeded in finding Lenning and Shoup, then there would be some one along to make an attempt to secure Mrs. Boorland’s lost money. So far, of the Gold Hillers, only Bleeker knew of the money that had been stolen on the trail from Gold Hill to Ophir.

“This matter is settled, then,” said Bleeker. “The rest of you boys go back to camp. We don’t want to leave the camp to take care of itself and lose any more canoes. Come on, Chip.”

The party divided, the three detachments of searchers starting off hurriedly in as many different directions, while several of the lads went back down the slope to the camp.

Merriwell and Bleeker took a northwest course among low, rocky hills. They traveled rapidly, keeping their ears open for another report, which might serve further as a guide.

“That was a revolver shot,” asserted Bleeker, as they hurried on, “but it may have been farther away than we think. In this clear, still air a report will carry a long distance.”

“Did Lenning or Shoup have any weapons, Bleeker?” asked Frank, in a worried tone.

“I don’t think so; at least I didn’t see any when I sent them away from the camp, last night. If they had had any guns, they might have tried to use them then and make a bluff.”

“Probably,” said Frank, with a feeling of relief. “It’s possible, too, that some one besides Blunt was doing that shooting. There may be others in this vicinity, don’t you think?”

“Sure thing, but it’s hardly likely. I don’t believe there’s a soul nearer our camp than Dolliver’s.”

“Some cowboy might be riding down Mohave Cañon from the Fiddleback Ranch.”

“Yes; but I don’t know what he’d find to shoot at. Cowboys don’t carry revolvers all the time, like they used to; and, if a Fiddleback man was going to town, he certainly wouldn’t pack a six-shooter. But that couldn’t have been Blunt doing the shooting. He wasn’t on the track of Lenning and Shoup, at last accounts.”

“Blunt has had plenty of time to pick up the trail. He’s a determined chap when he sets out to do anything.”

“Hotch jumped at the conclusion that Lenning and Shoup were doing the shooting. But if they didn’t have anything to shoot with, Hotch, of course, is wrong. Whoever pulled the trigger was easily satisfied. Only one shot was fired.”

Just at that moment, Merriwell glimpsed something a few yards to the right of him. It was an object that lay on the ground and gleamed brightly in the sun. Swerving to one side, he picked the object up.

“What have you found, pard?” called Bleeker.

“An empty sardine tin,” Frank reported.

“That’s right,” said Bleeker, coming up and peering at the flat can with its ragged flap. “It’s bright and new, and hasn’t lain where you found it for very long. We gave Lenning and Shoup a couple of tins of sardines, and I reckon they must have camped somewhere near this place last night.”

The lads examined the ground in the vicinity with some care. They found a thicket of mesquite, which had been trampled by horses—and Bleeker’s theory that Lenning and Shoup had spent the night in that place was all but proved.

“I reckon they stayed here,” said Bleeker. “Their horses could browse on the mesquite beans, and it wouldn’t have been much of a hardship for Lenning and Shoup to sleep in the open. But why did they do it, when they could just as well have returned to Dolliver’s?”

“Perhaps they were afraid to go to Dolliver’s; that is, if they really took Mrs. Boorland’s money.”

“They’re hanging out in the hills for some purpose, that’s plain,” mused Bleeker. “We might as well keep on, Chip, and see what we can find.”

The gulch and the cañon formed a right angle, and the course the two lads were taking was carrying them nearer and nearer the deeper and narrower defile. The hills among which they traveled were low, but there were many of them, and they kept to the valleys between. Now and then, either Merriwell or Bleeker would climb one of the uplifts and take a look at the country around them. They could see nothing of the fellows they were trying to find.

“We ought to have brought our horses,” grumbled Bleeker. “If we hadn’t started in such a rush we’d have thought of that. Lenning and Shoup have mounts, and if they see us first they’ll get away and we can’t stop them.”

“It’s too late to think of our horses now,” returned Frank. “Why do you suppose they stole your canoe, last night?” he queried. “If they have horses, what use would they find for a canoe?”

“Well, they might have taken that seventy-five dollar boat just to get even with us for not letting them stay in the camp.” Bleeker came to a halt. “We’ve come twice as far as that revolver shot would carry,” he went on, “and it’s a cinch we’ve had our trouble for our pains. Suppose we give up, and go back?”

“I don’t think we’re going to have any luck,” was Merry’s answer, “so there’s nothing for us to do but to return to camp. But that shot is bothering me a lot,” he added, sitting down on a convenient bowlder.

“I’m puzzled a heap, myself,” said Bleeker, hunting a seat and dropping down on it disgustedly. “I reckon, after all, we’d better make up our minds that some prospector took a chance shot at a coyote. That’s as good a guess as any, Chip. It’s fair to suppose that Barzy Blunt is all at sea, and hasn’t a notion where to look for Shoup and Lenning. So he couldn’t have done the shooting. Shoup and Lenning are out of it, because they hadn’t a gun. We’ve taken this little trip through the hills all for nothing.”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re wrong, Bleek, yet I can’t say where you’re wrong, or why.”

“My nerves must be in a fearful state when I get so worked up over the report of a revolver. I wouldn’t have thought anything about it if Shoup and Lenning hadn’t been in our vicinity, and if they hadn’t taken our canoe, and if you hadn’t told me what you did about Mrs. Boorland’s money, and about Blunt going on the warpath.”

“Well, let’s give it up as a bad job and mosey back to the camp. I’d like to keep Blunt from finding those two fellows, for he might do something a whole lot worse than just losing the two hundred dollars. I guess, though, that Shoup and Lenning are foxy enough to keep away from Blunt.”

“Our best bet is to look for the canoe. That must be along the river, somewhere. If we can find that, we may be able to lie low and get track of the thieves who made off with it. I had already planned that move for this afternoon. Why not begin at the mouth of the gulch, Chip, and work our way back to the camp? It wouldn’t take more than an hour or two to beat up every thicket where the canoe could be hidden.”

“Come on, Bleek, and we’ll try it.”

They had hardly started before Merriwell came to a quick halt, and dropped his hand on Bleeker’s arm.

“Listen!” he said.

They bent their heads, and what Merriwell had heard came to the ears of each of them distinctly. It was the sound of galloping hoofs.

“That’s a horse, all right,” murmured Bleeker excitedly. “From the sound, the animal is heading this way.”

“One horse,” said Frank. “Wait till I climb this hill and see if I can locate the animal.”

He hurried to the top of the low hill on his left, and stared in the direction from which the hoofbeats were coming. To the south, perhaps a hundred feet away, was a long ridge. Well to the east of the point where he was making his observations, he could see the head of a horseman bobbing up and down as the animal he rode lifted and dropped in a slow gallop. The rider was heading west, following the other side of the ridge.

A quick survey of the ground showed Frank that the valley which he and Bleeker were following pierced the ridge, and, if they made good time, they could get to that part of the ridge ahead of the rider. Thus, if the rider did not change his course, they might be able to intercept him. Frank bounded down the hillside and started southward at a run.

“Hustle, Bleek,” he called. “There’s a fellow coming on a horse, and if we hurry we can head him off.”

“That’s the stuff!” answered Bleeker, getting into motion. “What sort of a looking fellow is he?”

“I couldn’t see anything but the top of his hat. There’s a ridge in the way, and he’s galloping along on the other side.”

The valley crooked in a half circle around the base of another hill, and Merry and Bleeker raced through it and came to the point where the ridge was broken. The thump of hoofs was growing louder and louder.

“He’s pretty near,” whispered Bleeker.

“He’s right on us,” Merriwell flung back, and jumped out from among the rocks.

He came within one of being trampled by the galloping hoofs, for he leaped almost under the horse’s nose. The animal snorted and reared back, while an exclamation of surprise came from its rider.

As soon as Frank could get his bearings, he gave a yell of surprise himself. The rider, as it proved, was none other than Barzy Blunt!