Читать книгу The Hermit of Gordon's Creek - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 8

CHAPTER VI
HAL’S MYSTERIES

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Mr. Holliday was greatly concerned upon learning of Hal’s peculiar experience. He immediately signaled for Kip who had been warming up the larger plane and after listening to the young man’s account ordered his trusted employee to fly over to the city at once and bring back a doctor.

“Aw, that isn’t necessary, Mr. Holliday,” Hal protested. “I think it’s just a headache and that’s all. Maybe I did just slip as Lee thinks, but honestly it felt more as if someone hauled off and gave me a good crack. But I guess it was the way I fell, huh?”

“I’m inclined to think so,” Mr. Holliday returned. “Nevertheless, I want a doctor to see it, Hal. We can’t have you neglected, not while you’re a guest in this house.”

Kip, meanwhile, was carefully inspecting the small wound. “I’m sure it’s nothin’ but a little bruise and skin abrasion, sir,” he said to the ranch owner. “Jest the same, I’ll hop over to th’ city and get the doc.” He patted Hal fraternally on the shoulder, then: “Never mind, young feller, the next time yuh go huntin’ for any of Miss Lee’s spooks, you’d better let me go with yuh. I know that mine pretty well; I gave my own head a crack somethin’ like you have th’ first time I ever went snoopin’ ’bout thar.”

“That’s so, you did, Kip,” said the genial ranchman. “The floor of that passageway is a mass of slimy clay and that may account for it. But, Lee,” he said with a smiling glance of admonition, “you must not be so superstitious and believe that crazy tale of the mine. There’s nothing to it. The least said about the dilapidated old place, the better. You get supersensitive people like Hal interested in it and of course they want to see it right away. What happens? I don’t believe in anybody snooping around such places. Nothing good comes of it, and in its present rotting condition there’s likely to be a serious cave-in one of these days. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for a human being caught in such a dreadful trap. I’m afraid you’re not a very good guide for a tenderfoot.”

Lee bit her lip and walked into the house, vexed and hurt. Hal rose from his comfortable position in the porch swing and looked after her, feeling himself equally culpable. He said so, too.

“She told me not to go,” he explained, “but my curiosity got the better of me, I guess. She was a brick, though—pulled me out—scared as she was.”

Hal’s Uncle Denis put down his cigar which he had been smoking throughout the discussion. “Nevertheless,” he said in his whimsical way, “you had better confine your exploratory excursions to the days when Kip can act as your guide, eh, Richard?”

“Just so,” Mr. Holliday answered amiably. “And as soon as you’re better, Hal, you can have Kip and Pedro all to yourself for a nice camping trip—say two or three days, eh? I can spare them.”

Hal grinned happily and forgot, for the time being, the strange presentiments that had so taken hold of him since his experience in the mine. “I’d like to climb up and find that eagle’s nest, for one thing,” he declared. “Think that can be done?”

“Sure enuff,” Kip smiled and hesitated at the door. “Pedro wouldn’t be very smilin’ ’bout it, I’m ’fraid. By the way, did either you or Miss Lee spot Pedro on yore way down?”

Hal turned. “No, why? Didn’t he come with you?”

“Nope. I sent him down the west trail to kind of get the low-down on how much water was toppling over the falls. That way we can savvy how big a crack the dam has. Well, I guess he’s stopped at the old man’s place for a chat or something. No tellin’ what Pedro’s likely to do. Now, for the city—see you later!”

“Yes, yes,” Mr. Holliday called after him. “We’ll take a spin over the range after we take the doctor back, Kip. I’ll go with you.” Then turning to his guests he said: “We’re getting terribly worried about the fate of poor Collins. We’ve promised Major Denton (he has charge of the field) that we’ll take a spin around and see if we can see anything. Now I’ll go and see if I can smooth things over with Lee—you know how girls are.” He smiled, a lingering thoughtful smile, and slowly entered the drawing room.

Hal looked questioningly at his uncle. “What is it, Unk?” he said. “Mr. Holliday looks kind of down.”

Mr. Keen stared at the shining white threshold over which the ranchman had just stepped. Then he looked at his nephew. “He is down, Hal,” he whispered confidentially. “I didn’t tell you before, but that’s the reason I came out here to visit him. He has these vast acres—owns all this property up past the ill-fated mine and so on to the dam. All property and no money. Yes, he’s worried for Lee’s sake. It would be terrible for her to have to leave this beautiful place. But I don’t know what can be done about it—I can’t give my old friend much else besides sympathy. That’s what happens when you spend your life snooping out mysteries. I warn you, Hal—I can see you’re bent that way yourself—you’ll be poor or next door to it, if you follow in your old uncle’s footsteps.”

Hal smiled sympathetically. “You may be poor, Unk, but you don’t have to worry about any dams bursting or any spooky mines caving in. I’ll try not to follow in your footsteps as you say, but man alive—I kind of feel things—you know it? Maybe you think I’m crazy, but I can’t get that mine business out of my head. Lee and I both heard that fellow cry and we both heard hoofbeats. Besides I saw the tracks of two horses right at the entrance.”

“You didn’t mention that before,” said Mr. Keen, sitting forward in his chair.

“I know,” said Hal, lying back leisurely on the porch swing again. “I just had a hunch not to say anything—you know, like you do when you get an important clue, Unk?”

Mr. Keen laughed heartily. “A sleuth in the making, eh, Hal, my boy? Well, it’s a pity, but it can’t be helped. You imply that you didn’t say it because of Kip’s presence—is that it? Now, as my first instruction in sleuthing, you’ll have to eliminate our genial, blond Kip. Richard said he was home two hours before you and Miss Lee. Then, there is the dark, taciturn Pedro. . . .”

“He isn’t home yet,” Hal interposed.

“And we have Kip’s own word for it that Pedro was to come home the Bitter Trail Way, as Richard calls it. Now, Hal, I take it that you are sifting matters down to a common denominator. You think some person or persons wilfully attacked you in the mine, eh?”

“Yep—I don’t know it for certain, of course. But I feel it—you know it? I think it was just one person.”

“Hm,” said Mr. Keen taking up his cigar and relighting it. “What reason would any one have for attacking you in that mine?”

“That’s what I’d like to find out,” said Hal thoughtfully. “And I mean to find out—and soon.”

Mr. Keen smiled. “Then you’ve entirely given up the idea of trying to fathom the mystery of old Mr. Winters, eh?”

“Who said I have?” Hal returned indignantly. “When I say a thing, I mean it! No, I haven’t given it up—man alive, I’ve just begun! There’s two mysteries within a couple of miles of each other—some fun to unravel, huh, Unk? I’ll make Kip stick to his word and take me up there just as soon as my head’s in working order.”

“Heaven help you, Hal, my boy,” said Mr. Keen with mock-despair in every tone. “You talk like your poor old uncle did when he was nineteen years of age.”

The Hermit of Gordon's Creek

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