The Dalken party rested the day after the return to the hotel, and then, the day following that, Jack had the guides take them down the Hermit Trail. Mrs. Alexander refused emphatically to risk her precious life again on such silly errands as those leading to the bottom of the Canyon, only to have to ride up again!
They stopped over night at the Hermit Cabins, and then back-trailed until they reached the Tonto Trail where it forks from the Hermit Trail. The Tonto Trail led them along the Colorado River, but necessarily swerving in and out between the huge peaks. Late that afternoon they came to Bright Angel Trail, and thus regained the upper level once more. It was quite dark by the time they entered the hotel, and, at first, the lights dazzled their eyes so that they did not see who was standing beside Mrs. Alexander. In a few moments, however, Polly gave a glad squeal and rushed forward.
“Oh, Dalky! I’m so glad to see you again. When did you get here?”
Mr. Dalken was immediately surrounded by the bevy of young people, so that he found it impossible to reply to all their questions at once. Turning to Polly, he answered her.
“We arrived not half an hour ago, and Mrs. Alexander was just telling us about that dreadful trip down to Phantom Ranch. I only wish I had been there, to try to encourage you when you feared instant death over the rim of Bright Angel. Mrs. Alexander says the trail got its name from the many lives which are being sacrificed while trying to go up or down that perpendicular path.” Mr. Dalken’s face showed no hint of a smile as he spoke, but Dodo laughed outright.
“Why, Ma! I should think you’d try to keep your fears to yourself,” exclaimed the girl. “As for telling any one how the trail got its name—that is too absurd for anything! Some one has been stringing you, that’s all.”
“I reckon I ought to know, young lady!” snapped Dodo’s mother. “Mr. Atchison is very well-informed, and he spent more than an hour this morning before he left, in telling me all about Grand Canyon and how the trails got their various names.”
“Mr. Atchison tried to see just how much hot air you would take,” chuckled Mr. Alexander.
“Ebeneezer! I told you a few minutes ago that you must not treat me as you have in the past. I realize how far above you I am in my ideals and social polish, and I demand recognition of my station,” was Mrs. Alexander’s severe reprimand.
Her husband failed to be impressed by her hauteur, however, and his laugh echoed through the room. In fact, it was so spontaneous and contagious that all the others in the group—except Mrs. Alexander, of course—had to smile with him.
“Well, well, girls! Come sit down and hear our story,” interrupted Mr. Dalken, eager to silence these two bickering partners. And that invitation instantly changed the trend of thought.
“Now, begin at the very beginning, Dalky—when you-all left us at Flagstaff and rushed away without telling us where, or who with, or when you’d get back,” coaxed Polly, eagerly.
“All right, then,” agreed Mr. Dalken. “In the parlance of the fairy tales, I’ll say: ‘Once upon a time there were three wise men who went to a far-off land to seek their fortunes.’” The narrator smiled as he indicated Mr. Fuzzier, Mr. Alexander and himself. “Well, these wise men thought they had reached the land of their dreams without others being aware of their coming. But they were to learn that not only had certain individuals in Chicago telegraphed the advent of these wise men to certain individuals in and near the section of country where the three friends were going to take fortune by the forelock, but they discovered also that every movement since they left Chicago until they were on the drive from Flagstaff to Sedona was known to those who were waiting with their nets wide open to entrap the unwary, innocent, gullible, wise men.”
The girls giggled at Mr. Dalken’s latter part of the tale, but Polly interpolated: “Oh, do speak in simple English, Dalky! The story is going to be too thrilling for round-about methods.”
“All right, then. Seeing you prefer unvarnished facts to classic lore, here goes,” was the smiling rejoinder. “Jack, there, secured a most valuable chauffeur for us,—but this was quite unintentional on his part,—the morning we started from Flagstaff. In fact, we could not have had a better man for our purpose, than the driver of the car that sped us along the trail to Montezumas Castle.
“Bill Beldon, that’s the chauffeur’s name, seemed to have a hunch that we needed speed to reach the old Farview Ranch before Father Time could arrive there. So he kept his foot upon the gas without letting up, until we struck a spread of gravel and that introduced our vicissitudes. First Alex. ran up against a bit of gravel as large as his head, and, his head being softer than the stone, he showed results in a vast swelling. Then Fuzzy tried to dent the car with his forehead, and immediately his head began to puff up. I waited for a better opportunity to dent something, and I found it while stooping over Alex. Unfortunately for us both, the chauffeur tried the same stunt at the same time. Result: two more swelled heads. Now, girls, picture us four men, each one nursing a great black and blue lump about the size of an orange!”
At the mental picture portrayed, every one present laughed merrily; then Jack added: “I bet you won out in your plans, or you wouldn’t sit there giving us the funny details of the first stage of the trip.”
“Jack, my boy, you are too bright for your age,” commented Mr. Fuzzier. Mr. Dalken paid no heed, but resumed his story.
“While we were trying to stand Alex. upon his feet, Bill explained how he had learned who we were, and how a man by the name of Dunlap had been anxiously waiting for us at Williams, where he thought we must appear on the way to Grand Canyon. He also told us how the chauffeur of Dunlap’s hired car, Jim, by name, was a chum of his, and how Jim had driven Dunlap to Flagstaff twice that week to study the register of the hotel and assure himself that his quarry had not been there, and, perhaps, escaped him by another way.
“That was all we needed to make us forget heads and tires, and we urged Bill to get busy with the gas, or he’d be a dead man.
“Needless to add, Fuzzy, here, assuaged the driver’s grief over the damage the car would be sure to receive on that reckless trip from the main road to Sedona, by promising him two new cars—or the price of them—if he got us to the ranch before others woke up to the fact that we were within a hundred miles of it.
“Well, Bill Beldon won his prize money, but it was touch and go at the last. I’m anticipating the finale of the tale in order to quiet Jack’s nerves—I see he wants to know if we won out.”
“Hurrah!” cried Jack, clapping his hands at the news. “That means you go on with the South American project, and I can go down there with the rest of the men to work on the development.”
Mr. Dalken smiled indulgently, for he thought he knew Jack well enough to believe him incapable of serious application to work of any kind. Then he continued his story.
“We left the main road, as I said, and were heading for Sedona, when Bill struck this gravel stretch. The car behind had a good opportunity now to catch up and pass us by, but the road was too narrow to permit two cars abreast. Besides, our car, in striking the deep rut, had turned partly across the road, thus obstructing it for any other vehicles. All the same, we saw the driver, Jim, driving along swiftly, and we were determined to evade his passenger, Dunlap.
“We bundled Alex. back into the car, and in another moment Bill was in his seat. By the time Fuzzy and I were inside, the car had started again, and we soon out-distanced the car behind.
“We decided not to pass through Sedona, after all, but we tried to keep on the outskirts in order to avoid attention. From there we determined to strike in a southwesterly direction towards Camp Verde. The ranch we were after was half-way between Sedona and Verde, and we would have to go a bit off of our route in order to travel on ready-made trails.
“All went well for us,—even the tires held out better than we had expected them to do,—until we came to a crosstrail that struck in from Clarkdale. Just before we reached the point where the trail veered off to the great ranch for which we were bound, Bill spied a third car coming from the direction of Clarkdale. As it was going at top speed, he concluded that it had passengers who thought time must be worth money. So he drew our attention to it.
“‘We take no chances, Bill!’ I ordered. ‘It may be a second Dunlap in that car. Anyway, shoot ahead, and keep in the lead, no matter if the whole works go to pieces a moment after we reach the ranch.’
“And Bill did shoot ahead. In fact, we made the turn to the ranch about fifty yards in advance of the automobile coming from Clarkdale.
“The ranch buildings could be seen in the far distance like so many tiny dots upon the landscape, when our next delay came about. One of the rear tires blew up. Bill gazed anxiously out to see how much advanced time he might take and yet keep in the lead of the pursuing car. No other automobile was to be seen, so we all jumped out, jacked the car, and worked like college football players at a crack game. You’d hardly believe it, if we were to tell you the time it took us to change tires and get started again. Just as Alex. slammed the door of the automobile, I peeped out and saw the car from Clarkdale coming into view on the trail.
“Then, even as I was about to turn my gaze away, I saw the car skid, and in another moment it had climbed up the side of the bank that skirted the trail. It toppled over against the high side of the embankment; that was fortunate for us, as we could not have been heartless enough to leave an injured competitor upon a lonely trail had the car rolled over on the downward side and turned turtle.
“We had gone another mile, when Alex., who was posted at the rear window watching the trail behind, reported that another car was coming along the trail, and the man who had been in the overturned automobile was hailing the chauffeur to stop. In another moment, Alex. said: ‘Now they’ve stopped, and the man is getting in the other car. Now they are on their way again. But we have a fine lead on them.’
“He had no more than finished speaking, when the front tire went flat. I shouted to Bill to keep right on running on the flat tire, if necessary, since it was not far now to the ranch buildings.
“But the flat tire delayed us in the race, and the jolting was dreadful. In fact, when we pulled up in front of the one-story shack where we were to meet the man who had the legal right to sign an option for the property, we were completely out of breath from the shaking up. We had reached our destination, however, five minutes in advance of the other men, and Bill had earned his reward.
“Then I ran to the closed door, and banged away at it. No one answered, and I tried the handle. The door was locked! Then we ran about the place, Fuzzy to the sheds, Alex. to the back of the shanty, and I to try a window to get in. All to no purpose! Not a soul could we find, and no notice, either, to state where the owner might have gone.
“To our chagrin the other automobile now pulled up in the clearing before the shack, and Jim greeted his pal, Bill Beldon. We stood eyeing the occupants of the car, as they prepared to get out, and there, to our astonishment, we saw Algy step from the inside. He appeared to be so frightened, and so shaken up, that he could not speak to any one for a time. Two men followed directly after him, and they came forward without ceremony to introduce themselves to us.
“‘Is this the party from Chicago?’ asked the man whom we suspected to be Dunlap.
“‘Why do you ask?’ I demanded impatiently, realizing how we had missed the option on the place by having the owner break his appointment.
“‘Because I must be sure I am addressing the right party before I tell my story,’ explained Dunlap.
“‘And how about the man with you?’ asked Fuzzy. ‘He came from the opposite direction, and but for the accident to his car, would have reached here just ahead of you. Now he is with you.’
“‘Yes; I was greatly surprised to find Mr. Belnord in the vicinity of the ranch, because I had reason to believe him at Williams, where I left him the day I started for Flagstaff,’ explained the man addressed.
“‘Then you make no secret of having tried to anticipate our arrival at Flagstaff, and keeping yourself posted in regard to our appearance at Williams?’ questioned Fuzzy, with a meaning smile.
“‘Oh, indeed, no! That is, if you are the three gentlemen for whom I have instructions,’ returned the man.
“‘What do you mean—instructions for us?’ asked Alex.
“‘Why, didn’t you get the telegram I sent to Mr. Fuzzier in Chicago?’ asked both men, anxiously. Then one added: ‘One of you three gentlemen must be Mr. Fuzzier, I trust?’
“‘Well, yes! I am the man,’ confessed Fuzzy.
“‘And one of you must be the Mr. Dalken of New York, whom we wish to see, and the third one is Mr. Alexander, of Denver?’
“‘Seeing that we happen to be these three men, what is it you wish of us?’ I asked.
“‘Why,’ began the man who had been toppled over in the automobile, ‘I am Mr. Belnord, executor of the man who owned this great tract of land. I found, in his sheaf of papers, that he had corresponded with you gentlemen about an option on this land. And he further said, that he wished you to have first choice on buying the place, because Ebeneezer Alexander had befriended him years ago while both men were at Cripple Creek staking out claims. It seems this Alexander had staked a rich claim, and had advised my client to stake the adjoining claim. He did so, and cleared up enough on that advice to buy this great ranch.’
“‘And I am Mr. Dunlap, the agent who sold Sam White this ranch. I happen to know that Sam always suspected his property of having a rich vein of copper in it, and we often planned what we would do some day, if Sam got over his rheumatism and could work. Poor Sam died two weeks ago, and Mr. Belnord and I have been on the lookout for you gentlemen ever since. We both had wires from your offices in Chicago and New York, informing us that you would be on your way to Grand Canyon by the time the messages reached us. And we posted ourselves at the two main towns on the railroad, thinking you might get off to have a look at the sights on the way.’
“‘When Dunlap and I heard you had gone on to the ranch, we both started after you, hoping to save you the long, hard drive over these dreadful trails. But you’ve got one fast driver, in that Bill Beldon,’ explained Mr. Belnord.
“At that, we three stared speechlessly at the two men. I managed to get my breath, however, and then asked: ‘Do you two mean to tell us that you were trying to locate us in order to help us take up the option on this land?’
“‘Why, of course! What did you think we wanted of you?’ asked Mr. Dunlap.
“At that, we had to laugh at ourselves, but Bill Beldon stood looking glum. He feared he would lose that reward, because he had misinterpreted the intentions of the man Dunlap.
“‘I will confess, gentlemen,’ added Mr. Dunlap, after we had exhausted our laughing-stock, ‘that I had my own axe to grind, as well as seeing you get possession of this land. I bought a great tract of land adjoining White’s ranch, because of my faith in his powers of discernment. And I thought, perhaps, if you were interested in taking up Sam’s ranch, you would also like to look over my tract at the same time. I want to get into a big developing scheme, and I have a little cash to add to the value of my land, if you will consider me as one of your stock-holders. So, now, gentlemen, suppose we get down to business.’
“Well, friends! That’s the story of how we ‘Three Wise Fools’ ran ourselves across the country in search of a paper that was right at hand in the little town from which we started. And all the time we thought we were running away from our competitors, we actually were running away from the two men who were anxious to help us realize our wishes.” Mr. Dalken laughed as he concluded.
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Polly, delightedly.
“And you got all you went after?” asked Eleanor.
“More! And we need not have gone so far to get it, either,” replied Mr. Fuzzier.
“Mr. Dalken’s name for you three seems most appropriate,” laughed Mrs. Courtney, “but your wooden shoe was an automobile, and the sea you sailed was the ranch-land. Now, however, we are glad to find you have sailed safely back to harbor.”
“Thank you for that, Fair Lady,” smiled Mr. Dalken.
Mrs. Alexander had no idea of what Mrs. Courtney had been referring to when she spoke of the wooden shoe and the sailing over the sea, and she felt that she must add a word now.
“I was not told that Ebeneezer and you two other men wore wooden shoes on that trip to the ranch, but that doesn’t concern me, if you prefer to wear sores on your feet. What does concern me, however, is Mr. Belnord. Where did you leave the gentleman who was so attentive to me during my stop-over at Williams?”
“Why, Maggie, you’ll find him back in Chicago, by this time, I hope. We sent him on at once to attend to all the papers concerning our transaction,” explained Mr. Alexander.
“And what did you do with my poor Algy?” demanded the lady.
“Your Algy is still mooning around Williams, waiting as you commanded him to do,” chuckled Mr. Alexander.
“You didn’t leave him there, did you, and come on to Grand Canyon, where you knew I would be?” exclaimed his wife.
“Algy is of age, and he was afraid to disobey you, Maggie, dear! You’ve got him trained better than I ever was,” retorted her independent husband.
“My poor, dear Algy!” sighed Mrs. Alexander, leaving the group and going to the desk to wire at once for her obedient admirer to join her at Grand Canyon.