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"All ready!" came the cry of the man in charge of the touring automobiles, and then one after another the turnouts rolled away from the depot. "Shall we stay here and look into this?" asked Dave, of Roger and Phil. "What's the use?" returned the shipowner's son. "It isn't likely they are here now."
"He certainly didn't lose any time in getting away, did he?" and the shipowner's son grinned broadly. "He had a guilty conscience," was Mr. Passmore's comment. "Mr. Fordham, I think you can congratulate yourself that he has left." "I think so myself, sir," replied the old gentleman. He looked kindly at Dave and his chums. "It looks to me as if you had saved me from being swindled," he continued.
Though he had driven in a cab to the shipowner's house, he was already breathless with exertion, and he rolled so heavily in his gait that his shoulders hit both sides of the doorway while entering the room. Yet he was nimble withal, a man capable of swift and sure movement within a limited area, therein resembling a bull, or a hippopotamus.
Carrying cargo was the least of a shipowner's business; he was more often hiring out vessels and crews to warring kings, to Portuguese who carried on a slave trade, or to fight pirates, the dread of the Mediterranean. Slaves rowed the Mediterranean galleys, and in the bow stood a man with a long lash to whip the slaves into subjection.
He saved himself and Phil from rolling further. But a frying-pan the shipowner's son carried broke loose from the pack on his back and went clattering down the rocks to the very foot of the hill. "For the love of flapjacks, stop that noise!" cried Sid Todd, in a low voice. "Time you get to the top of the hill them deer will be ten miles away!"
I think we can count it a big feather in our cap that we killed a cougar." "Do you think he was going to attack us?" asked the senator's son, with a shiver. "He was after the deer. But there is no telling what he might have done. I am glad he is dead. Phil, it was lucky you heard the beast." "Talk about excitement!" cried the shipowner's son. "I rather think we are getting it!
"I I am awfully sorry," continued the shipowner's son. "I I really don't know how it happened. It wasn't the thing to do." "Never mind, it's done and that's the end of it," put in Roger, quickly, for he could see how badly his chum felt over the occurrence. "I guess you were pretty tired." "I was, Roger. Just the same, I had no business to fall asleep.
He was on the point of mentioning the map and instructions he carried for locating the Landslide Mine. Dave and Phil, as well as Ben and Shadow, understood. "Did you have anything in the case outside of your clothing?" whispered the shipowner's son. "Only a few things of no importance," answered Roger. He tapped his breast pocket. "Those papers are here, and my money is here, too."
"I knew about what to expect, for Laura told me," answered Dave, with a smile. "I didn't say too much because I wanted you to be surprised. But it's better even than I anticipated. If we don't have the outing of our lives here, it will be our own fault." "The Endicotts are certainly fine folks," said the shipowner's son, as he sat on the edge of a bed to unlace his shoes.
"Oh, pshaw! why can't I sleep?" murmured the shipowner's son to himself in disgust, and then out of curiosity he looked at his watch. By the glare from the campfire he saw that it was nearly one o'clock. He was just straightening out again when a peculiar rustling among the horses caught his ears. He listened for a moment, then sat up straight. "Something doesn't suit them," he reasoned.
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