The Boy Land Boomer Part 8

His order served, he was disposing of the last of it, when the sound of voices on the other side of the part.i.tion attracted his attention.

"Leave me alone, Juan Donomez!" came in the voice of a girl. "You have no right to touch me."

"You are too pretty to be left alone," came in the slick tones of a Mexican vaquero. "Come, now, senorita, give me just one kiss."

"I will not, and you must leave me alone," went on the girl, and her trembling voice showed plainly that she was much frightened. "Where is the man who sent for me?"

"He is not here yet."

"I do not believe he sent for me at all. It was a trick of yours to get me here. Let me go."

"Not yet, senorita; you can go after a while. But first you must give me a kiss. Then I will explain why I had you come."

As the last words were uttered d.i.c.k heard a scurry of feet, then came a faint scream, cut short by the Mexican. The boy waited to hear no more.

"The contemptible greaser!" he muttered and leaped up. Throwing down the amount of his check on the cashier's desk he hurried from the restaurant. As he had supposed there was a hallway next door, where the talking he had overheard was taking place.

"Oh, save me!" cried the girl, and one glance at her told d.i.c.k that she was not over sixteen and as beautiful as any maiden he had ever seen.

She was attired in true western style and wore on her ma.s.s of shining curls a big, soft riding hat.

"Let that young lady alone," cried the youth to the Mexican, who glared at him savagely. "I overheard your talk, and if she wants to leave she shall do it."

"Oh, thank you for coming to my aid," burst out the girl gratefully.

"This bad man----"

"Say no more, Nellie Winthrop," interrupted the Mexican. "Go to the rear. I will attend to this cub who dares to interfere with my business."

And he shoved the girl behind him. His roughness made d.i.c.k's blood boil over, and, rushing forward, he put out his foot, gave a push, and Juan Donomez measured his length upon the floor.

During the encounter Nellie Winthrop had escaped to the front end of the hallway, and here d.i.c.k now joined her.

"We might as well go," said the youth.

"Yes, yes; let us get out as quickly as we can," answered the girl trembling. "He may attempt to attack you."

"I ought to hand him over to the authorities, but I won't," said d.i.c.k.

"Come," and he opened the door and followed her to the street.

"I shall never forget you for your kindness," the girl burst out as soon as they had left the vicinity of the spot where the trouble had occurred. "You are very brave, Mr.----"

"I'm only d.i.c.k Arbuckle, Miss----"

"Nellie Winthrop is my name. I just reached Arkansas City yesterday. I am from Peoria, and am looking for my uncle, who is somewhere among the Oklahoma boomers."

"Indeed! I'm one of the boomers myself--at least, I've been with them a good part of the time. Perhaps I know your uncle. What is his name?"

"John Rasco, but I believe the men all call him Jack Rasco."

"Why, is it possible! I know Jack Rasco well--in fact, my father and I have been stopping with him ever since we came on from New York. As soon as the rush into Oklahoma was over my father was going to get your uncle to locate a certain mine claim in the West for him--a claim that belongs to us, but which can't be located very easily, it seems."

"And where is my uncle now?" demanded Nellie Winthrop.

"At the boomers' camp, I suppose. You see," went on d.i.c.k, his face falling, "there is something wrong afoot." And in a few words he told of his father's disappearance and of the search being made to find him.

"I sincerely trust he is safe," said Nellie when he had concluded. "I presume you want to resume your search. Do not let me detain you. If you are among the boomers we will certainly meet again," and she held out her hand.

"Do you feel safe enough to find the camp alone?" he asked. "Perhaps I had better take you there. It is about a mile in that direction," and he indicated the locality with a wave of his hand.

"I feel safe enough in the open air," she smiled. "It was only when that Mexican had me cornered in a dark hallway that I felt alarmed. I was born and brought up on the plains, and I've been to Peoria only to get educated, as they say. I've a horse at the livery stable, and I can ride the distance."

"May I ask how you fell in with that greaser?"

"I think he overheard me asking for my uncle at the hotel, and after that he sent a note saying my uncle was at the place where you found me.

I saw him first on the train, where he tried his best to get some information from me about some horses. But I told him little," concluded the girl.

Five minutes later they parted at the livery stable, where Nellie had left her horse, and d.i.c.k went on his way to continue his search for his lost parent. The girl had thanked him again for what he had done and had squeezed his hand so warmly that his heart thumped pretty hard, while his face was flushed more than ever before.

CHAPTER VII.

OUT ON THE RIVER.

For over half an hour longer d.i.c.k tramped the streets of the city looking for some trace of his father.

Presently he found himself down by the docks along the muddy river. The stream was much swollen, and the few boats tied up were b.u.mping freely against the sh.o.r.e as the current swung them in.

"I wonder if father could have come down here?" he mused. "He had a great fondness for the water when he got those strange spells."

Slowly and with eyes wide open he moved down the river sh.o.r.e, ready to seize upon any evidence which might present itself.

Suddenly he uttered a cry and leaped down into a rowboat lying before, him.

"Father's hat! I'd know it among a thousand!"

d.i.c.k was right. There on the stern seat of the craft rested the head-covering Mortimer Arbuckle had worn ever since he had left New York.

The tears stood in the youth's eyes as he picked up the hat and inspected it. One side of the brim was covered with dirt, and it was still soaked from the rain.

"Poor father! Is it possible he fell overboard?"

d.i.c.k said "fell overboard," but he thought something else. He knew as well as anybody that his father did strange things while under the influence of the melancholy spells which at times haunted him.

He looked up and down the stream. Nothing was in sight but the boats and here and there a ma.s.s of driftwood.

He sat down on the seat and covered his face with his hands.