The Boy Land Boomer Part 17

CHAPTER XV.

AN IMPORTANT CONVERSATION.

"Yes, it's settled, Powell; and as soon as we are done here with the boomers, I'll get to work and find out what the claim is worth."

"How about being shadowed in the affair?"

"I'm not afraid--I'm laying my plans too well," answered Louis Vorlange.

"I would go ahead at once, but to throw up my position under the government just now might excite suspicions."

"Have you the papers with you?"

"No; I left them at the cavalry camp. They are too valuable to carry in one's coat pocket."

"Supposing the camp moves?"

"I have my belongings secreted in a nearby cave where they are as safe as in a deposit vault of a bank."

"Well, Vorlange, what am I to do now I am out here?"

"Remain in Arkansas City for the present and take it easy."

"You promised me a hundred dollars on my arrival."

"And there it is."

There was the rustle of bank notes.

"New money, eh?" was Dike Powell's comment. "Been printing some out here?"

"Not much. I know better than to go into the counterfeiting business."

d.i.c.k clutched Rasco's arm. The youth's face was full of concern.

"My father's money was in new bills," he whispered into his companion's ear. Rasco nodded, but quickly motioned for silence.

"I reckon this is drinks on me," said Powell, arising. "Come down to the bar before you go back to the cavalry camp."

"I'm in a hurry, Powell, but I'll take one gla.s.s," concluded Louis Vorlange, and the two men hurried from the reading-room.

"He is the man--I feel certain of it!" burst from d.i.c.k's lips, when he felt safe to speak. "Rasco, there is some mystery here. My father----"

He stopped short and bit his lip.

"I know wot's in yer mind, d.i.c.k. I've heard yer father go on in his sleep, and war talkin' ter p.a.w.nee Brown about it. An' p.a.w.nee knows this air Vorlange. The two air enemies from school days. p.a.w.nee said Vorlange wasn't squar nohow!"

"He is evidently in the employ of the government."

"Yes; a land-office spy, now workin' ag'in the boomers fer the cavalry as intends ter keep us out of Oklahoma."

"It will be hard to bring such a man to justice, without some direct evidence against him, Rasco."

"Don't yer try ter do it--yet, lad. Take my advice an' watch him. An'

afore yer come down on him yer hed better question yer father about Vorlange."

At this d.i.c.k winced.

"Rasco, my father's manner is against him--I know that. But I'm certain he never committed a crime in his life."

"I believes yer, d.i.c.k. Yer father's a gentleman, every inch o' him; I seed thet the fust I clapped eyes on him. But knowin' the truth is one thing an' provin' it is another, especially in the wild west. This air Vorlange may hev yer father in a mighty tight hole, and if you show him up as the thief who stole the deeds an' the money, he may turn on yer dad and squeeze him mightily, see?"

"I see. But what shall I do just now?"

"Follow Vorlange and spy on to him all yer can. It ain't no ust ter hurry matters, with your father flat on his back. Powell will remain here and Vorlange will be with the cavalry, so yer will know whar ter clap eyes on ter both of 'em if it's necessary."

A moment's reflection convinced d.i.c.k that this was sound advice, and he said he would follow it, mentally resolved not to accuse Vorlange of anything until he had gotten his parent to confess to the true state of affairs.

By this time the boy and the man of the plains had left the veranda and walked around to where Rasco had left his horse. A moment later they saw Louis Vorlange hurry from the barroom of the hotel, leap upon his own animal, and strike out of town in a westerly direction.

"If I had a horse I'd follow him," began d.i.c.k, when Rasco motioned the youth to hop up behind. Soon they were riding after Vorlange, but not close enough to allow the spy to imagine that he was being followed.

"If you go after him you'll get no chance to hunt up your niece," began d.i.c.k, when the city was left behind.

"That's true, lad." Jack Rasco's face grew troubled. "I don't know wot's best ter do. It ain't fair ter let yer follow Vorlange alone; an'

with only one hoss----hullo, wot does this mean? Carl Humpendinck, an'

wavin' his hand to us like he war crazy."

Rasco had discovered the German boomer sweeping up a side trail.

Humpendinck had made out Ras...o...b..t a second before and now shouted for the man of the plains to halt.

"What is it, Dutchy?" called out Rasco, when they were within speaking distance.

"Vot ist it? Donner und blitzen, Rasco, it vos der vorst news vot efer you heard!" burst from Carl Humpendinck's lips. "I chust here him apout quarter of an hour ago, und I ride der horse's legs off ter told yer."

"But what is it--out with it?"

"It's apout dot girl you vos lookin' for. Rosy Delaney, dot Irish vomans vot haf such a long tongue got, she tole me der sthory. Gott im himmel!

it vos dreadful!"

"But tell me what it is, Dutchy!" exploded Rasco. "Wot is dreadful?"

"Der sthory she tole--I can's most believe him."

"See here, out with the whole thing, or I'll swat yer one on the cocoanut, Humpendinck!" roared Rasco. "Yer as long-winded ez a mule thet's gone blind."