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Updated: June 8, 2025
"I can't sit up in the saddle any more!" "I shouldn't have pushed ye so hard," answered Wumble sympathetically. "If ye " he stopped short. "Who's that?" He dodged behind a rock, and the others did the same. Somebody was stirring below them, in the timber. All drew their pistols. "If it's an enemy we'll give them as good as they send," said Tom, and he meant it.
While Jack Wumble was off attending to his private business the three Rover boys took a stroll through Denver. The city was different from any they had visited, and their walk was full of interest. Coming to a store in the window of which were exhibited a number of Indian curiosities, the boys halted to examine the objects, when Tom uttered a sudden cry. "Look, Dick! There is Bradner inside!"
Every ounce of courage had oozed away from him, for he had seen Noxton brought down, and thought the rascal was dead. "Shut up, you softy!" answered his parent in a rage. "Shut up, and we will be safe. I'll never give in to a Rover," he added vehemently. Tom and Sam had gone after the Baxters, with Jack Wumble behind them while the last man of the party turned to collar Roebuck.
"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Tom declared, "I'm not going on to Larkspur Creek until he is found." "Or until we have found out what has become of him," added Sam. "He may be dead, you know." "I reckon we had best go back to where he took his tumble," said Wumble. "If he escaped he'll come back thar himself, more'n likely."
"You must have made a bad break of it, Bradner." "I did my best, but I couldn't keep them from looking around, although I offered to conduct them. You can bet if I had had them under my care they wouldn't have got near the Western Palace, nor Jack Wumble either." "Did you have a man ready to play the part of Wumble?" questioned Dan Baxter, after the burly one had ordered drinks for the two.
Satisfied that Jack Wumble knew the ground to be covered better than they did, the boys decided to let him have his own way, so long as the object of the expedition should be advanced. They sat down in the shade to rest, and thus several hours passed, and the old miner smoked up half 'a dozen pipefuls of his favorite plug mixture. "I've got it," he cried at last.
They remained under the rock the best part of an hour, allowing their trusty animals to get back their wind and strength. During this time Wumble walked back a short distance and Tom climbed up to the top of the rock, but neither made any discovery of importance. It was a little after midnight when they moved forward again.
We all know what a wretch Arnold Baxter is, and out in this wild country almost anything is liable to happen." On and on they went, first over a stubble of thin grass and then through a forest of tall pine trees. Rocks were everywhere, and the trail wound in and out, with an occasional watercourse to be forded. "These watercourses are all right now," observed Jack Wumble.
A gleam of satisfaction lit up the burly man's face, but Tom did not notice it. "Wumble used to hang out in Denver. Going to meet him there, I suppose." "No, I'm going to meet him in Chicago, if I can." "I see." So the talk ran on until the meal was finished. Then the burly man bowed pleasantly and the two separated. When Tom rejoined his brothers Sam asked him about the man.
He set up a shout and waved his cap, and soon Wumble saw him and waved his hand in return. Then the old miner and Sam came forward at top speed. "Tom!" came from Sam, and he rode up close and almost embraced his brother. "Where in the world have you been?" "Been with the enemy," answered Tom. "I can tell you I paid up for going to sleep on the trait!" he added half comically.
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