CHAPTER XXVIII.

COLONEL MENDIX IS ASTONISHED.

“I believe that man would lie when the truth would do!” burst out Gus, when they had ridden out of hearing. “Of course you don’t take any stock in what he says.”

“No, indeed! Even if Cottle had not told us all about his little trick, I would never believe him after he had passed himself off as somebody else. We will ride on in the direction he indicated as far as he can see us, and then turn back to where we left Mr. Whyland.”

This was done; and fifteen minutes later they had rejoined their friend and the guide.

“I was getting a little worried,” said the former; “well, what luck?”

Oliver told him of what had occurred.

“The old fraud sent you off to the Johnny Brill mine!” burst in Cottle. “Brill opened it, and when it was nearly played out, turned it over to Mendix; why I never knew, excepting that the Spaniard wanted to palm it off as the Aurora.”

“That was probably his scheme,” said Mr. Whyland. “He is a deep one. I wish I knew just where he keeps all of his papers.”

“There was a safe in the place called the office,” replied Oliver.

“Yes; but he may have some place in San Francisco――”

“Guess not,” returned the guide. “I reckon you will find all you want right in that little building.”

“If we could only get hold of them――”

“I’d ride in and take possession,” continued Cottle. “If you have a right to the mine I wouldn’t wait a minute.”

“We have if it’s the right mine,” said Oliver.

“I can vouch for it that it is. I know every foot of the ground around here.”

“Here is the description of the mine,” said Oliver, producing the papers. “Listen, I will read them off;” and he did so.

“That’s it to a T, and no mistake. The Cortez is only a blind to the regular mine. I’d swoop down on him.” And the guide shook his head decidedly. He would have been better pleased if there had been a regular muss with a bit of shooting added.

“I wish I knew where the sheriff of the county was located,” began Mr. Whyland.

“The sheriff is Dan Shattock,” replied Cottle. “He lives over to Fennel Gulch.”

“And how far is that from here?”

“About thirty-five or forty miles.”

“If I gave you a letter to him could you bring him back with the necessary papers?”

“Certainly. Only Dan will want pay in advance.”

“I will give you the hundred dollars that you have earned. You can pay him whatever is necessary, and I will pay you back with good interest. Come, I will write the letter without delay.”

“Yes, do,” said Oliver. “Colonel Mendix may smell a mouse and try to head us off ere long. He had not expected to be disturbed, but now you can rest assured he will be on his guard.”

Mr. Whyland sat down immediately to compose the letter. It was not a very long epistle, but it was just to the point. Oliver read it over and offered several suggestions that the other deemed valuable, and then the letter was folded and placed in Cottle’s hand.

“I’ll be off at once,” said the guide; and he mounted his mule.

“And how long before you will be back?” asked Oliver.

“Depends on where I catch Dan Shattock. Not longer than three days, I reckon.” And with these final words Cottle rode away.

“I trust he will be lucky enough to find his man at once,” said Mr. Whyland. “Having the sheriff here will be a great help to us.”

“I suppose Gus and I had better ride back to carry out the deception,” said Oliver. “Mendix will be looking for us.”

“And I will remain in camp down here in the hollow,” said Mr. Whyland. “I think as long as the colonel does not see me we will be safe. But if you need me, fire off a shot as before agreed.”

A moment later Oliver and Gus were on the return. They followed the track they had come by, and in less than half an hour had passed the abandoned mine, and were once more at the Cortez’s office.

“Well, are you satisfied now?” asked the colonel as he came out to meet them.

“That mine is certainly abandoned,” replied Oliver, raising a light laugh, far, however, from natural.

“Yes; it is utterly worthless.” Colonel Mendix paused. “Was that all you were hunting in this region?”

Oliver hesitated for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say in return.

“It was all we wanted to know about the mine,” he answered slowly. “But you tell me that mining around here doesn’t pay?”

“Hardly. It did years ago, but we have nearly reached the end.”

“If you have no objection I would like to take a look around your mine,” said Oliver. “I was never in a mine just like this.” He did not deem it necessary to say that he had never been in a mine of any kind. “It must be an interesting sight.”

Colonel Mendix frowned slightly. The idea of these two suspicious young men prowling about the place did not suit him.

“It is not such an amusing sight,” he replied with a short laugh.

“Still you don’t object, I suppose,” said Oliver.

“Oh, no; I――I――will send for a man to show you through. It is not often we have visitors away out here. Take seats while I send for the man.”

He indicated a couple of chairs, and the two boys seated themselves. Oliver’s heart beat like a trip-hammer. What would be the result of this strange visit to the mine?

“Have you good stout boots?” went on Colonel Mendix; “you need them in a place like this.”

“Oh, we always wear tough sole-leather,” laughed Gus. “We have been knocking about too long to do otherwise.”

This reply put the colonel off the track once more. But he went on,――

“You are from the West then?”

“We came from Central America,” replied Oliver; “but we have been spending some time in San Francisco.”

“Ah, I see.”

There was a short pause after this. Oliver felt the colonel’s sharp eyes bent full upon him, and to avoid confusion he bent over and began an examination of the sole of one of his boots.

“That is getting a little worn,” he said to Gus; “I guess I will pare that edge off with a knife.” And getting out his penknife he began to do so.

While at work several men came into the office and asked for instructions. Oliver became much interested in what was said, referring as it did to the transfer of some heavy machinery from San Francisco to the mine. He laid down his knife, pulled up his boot, and drank in every word.

From this he learned that on the day following a party of six men with eighteen mules were to start for the coast. On arriving there, the machinery was to be put up in packs, loaded on the mules, and then brought to the mine. The trip would occupy the best part of a month.

This conversation gave the boy considerable satisfaction. It would decrease the force of men in the mine by six, and this would count for much if the sheriff should have any trouble in establishing their claim. He trusted that Colonel Mendix would not discover their intentions before the start was made.

When the men were about to leave, the colonel motioned for one of them to remain.

“Here, Restrepo, I want you to show these two young men through the mine,” he said. And then followed some instructions in Spanish to the effect that the trip should be a short one and nothing of importance should be shown.

“_Si, signor_,” replied the fellow, touching his cap.

“This man will show you through,” said the colonel, turning to the two; and there was nothing left to do but to follow the man out; and this they did.

No sooner were they gone and the door closed, than the colonel sank back in his chair in deep thought.

“That Oliver’s face reminds me strongly of one that I have seen before,” he muttered to himself. “I do not like the manner of either of them. Bah! I must be getting nervous. What can two boys do?”

He was about to turn again to the papers before him, when his eyes rested upon the penknife Oliver had left lying on the floor. Half abstractedly he picked it up.

“Oliver Bright!” he ejaculated, as he read that name upon the handle. “That boy must be Arthur Bright’s son! Ah, I see it all! He is spying upon me!” He clinched his hands. “I must attend to this at once!” he cried.