Owen Clancy's Happy Trail Part 4

The motor wizard hurried toward the scene of the commotion. He found a fat man pounding a dent out of the crown of a shabby silk hat, and mumbling wrathfully.

"Get an officer!" shouted the fat man. "I don't know but I'm robbed!"

Hiram Hill stood in front of the aggrieved gentleman, stood and stared at him blankly.

"I--I thought you was my dad," murmured Hiram.

"Your dad?" repeated the fat man, glaring. "You ought to be arrested for that, anyhow. I refuse to be insulted, by gorry! What's your name, anyhow?"

The fat man was feeling about his person, making sure that his watch, pocketbook, and other person property were safe.

"That mole on the back of your neck," explained Hiram, "was what caused me to make the bobble."

"Well," snorted the fat man, walking off, "don't make any more bobbles around me, or there'll be trouble. It's my opinion that you're crazy."

The crowd set up a laugh. Clancy elbowed his way to Hill's side and took him by the hand.

"Howdy, Hiram?" said he.

"Clancy!" exclaimed Hill. "Say, the sight of you is good for sore eyes!

I just been hankerin' for a friend."

"You need a guardeen more'n a friend," remarked some one.

Hill began to bristle and to look around in search of the one who had spoken. Clancy grabbed his arm, and drew him away down the lobby to a couple of leather chairs.

"What's the matter with you, Hiram?" the motor wizard asked.

"I reckon my nerves have got twisted, Clancy," Hill answered. "I'm all in a twitter, seems like. Ever since I piped off dad in that automobile last Sat.u.r.day mornin' I haven't been able to look around without seein'

some un I think's him. Queer, ain't it? I'm all fl.u.s.tered."

"Better put the clamps on your nerves, Hiram, or you'll be in jail the first thing you know."

"How's the shoulder?"

"Coming along in fine shape."

"I didn't know whether you'd be able to answer that there telegram of mine in person, and if you was able, I didn't know whether you would."

"Look here, Hiram," said Clancy, "didn't I tell you I'd help you find your father if you'd keep mum about what Lafe Wynn did?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I always try to pay my debts."

"Got any trace o' Gerald Wynn, Burton, and Katz yet?"

"No."

"Then that fifteen thou' is gone for good?"

"I'm afraid so. But let's not talk about that. You say you're hot on the trail of your father. Tell me about it."

Hiram started with the Chinese procession at Sixth and Main Streets.

Very earnestly he told how he had disrupted the dragon, and he described other events that happened down to the point where he found himself with the extra Stetson in his hand.

"That hat," declared Hiram, "sure belonged to dad. I got it away from him somehow, and I hung to it all the while my wits was woolgatherin'

and I was bein' toted to a drug store. Then I--- Say, what you laughin'

at?"

Clancy had been enjoying Hill's recital to the limit it would be hard to mix six dozens of eggs, a Chinese dragon, and a runaway monkey into a small-sized riot and not get a little fun out of it. The sober, matter-of-fact way in which Hiram narrated the details added to the humor of the story.

"Never mind what I'm laughing at, Hiram," sputtered Clancy, wiping his eyes. "You say you found something under the sweatband of that Stetson.

What was it?"

"A card. Here it is."

Hill thrust a hand into one of his pockets and drew forth an oblong square of pasteboard. This he handed to his companion.

"Sr. J. Lopez," was the name on the card, followed by the address: "Avalon, Catalina Island, California." Then in the lower left-hand corner, were the words: "Representing the Fortunatus Syndicate, of Tia Juana, Mexico."

"What do you make out of this, Hiram?" the motor wizard asked.

"What do you make out of it?" countered Hill.

"If you are sure the Stetson belonged to the man in the automobile--to the man whom you thought was your father---"

"I'll take my solemn Alfred on that!"

"Well, if this is the man's business card, it proves that the man is J.

Lopez--and he can't be your father."

"That's not his business card, Clancy."

"How do you know?"

"There was two gilt letters pasted in the crown o' that Stetson, and them letters was 'U. H.' Sabe? My dad's name is Upton Hill."

Clancy was suitably impressed.

"Well, who's this J. Lopez and the Fortunatus Syndicate?" he inquired.

"Those are two things we ought to find out."

"I'm wise to the Fortunatus Syndicate, all right," said Hill. "You remember I was down in Tia Juana, that time I got hornswoggled out o'

five hundred dollars by Gerald Wynn. Well, I heard about this Fortunatus Syndicate while I was in the place. Some Americanos are planning a gambling resort, just across the boundary line, and they call their company the Fortunatus Syndicate."

"And your dad's mixed up with it, Hiram? That doesn't speak very well for him."