On the morning following the capture of the four Rover boys, Miss Jennie Corning, on getting up to prepare breakfast for her brother and Tom Rover, was much surprised to find a letter that had been thrust under the front door of the house.
“Well, I declare, it’s a letter for Mr. Rover!” she exclaimed to herself. “I wonder why they didn’t knock? Perhaps they thought we were all asleep and didn’t want to wake us up.”
She heard Tom stirring in his room, and, going to it, knocked on the door.
“A letter for you,” she said as he peered out through a crack. “I found it shoved under the front door.”
On the day previous Tom Rover had received telegrams from both Mr. Renton and Mr. Parkhurst stating that they were with him in his actions against Peter Garrish and that they would come to Gold Hill as soon as possible.
“Maybe Garrish has got wind of what I’m up to and wants to head me off,” thought Tom as he sat down on a chair by the window and opened the communication.
He read the letter hastily and then uttered a low whistle as he read it a second time. The communication ran as follows:
“You and your family have done a whole lot toward placing us in a hole. Now we intend to get square. We have your twin sons and the other two boys prisoners a long distance from here. They are in a spot where you will never be able to find them. If you ever expect to see your twins alive again be prepared to pay us fifty thousand dollars in cash. This is a first notice so that you can get the money together and have it ready. You will soon receive another notice as to how the money is to be paid. Do not try to put the authorities on our track or you will regret it as long as you live.
“DAVENPORT.
“JACKSON.
“TATE.”
It would be hard to analyze poor Tom’s feeling when he had ascertained the contents of the letter. The news that the boys were prisoners of their enemies upset him fully as much as the boys had been upset when they had been told the twins’ father was injured.
“Dick was right, after all!” he groaned. “I thought he was overcautious when he had the women folks and the girls taken away. But he was right. Davenport must have been up around Colby Hall and Clearwater Hall for the express purpose of getting his hands on the boys, and the girls too. It was a deep-laid plot, no doubt of it. And that being so, they have probably done everything they could to cover up their tracks.”
What to do Tom hardly knew. He dressed with all possible haste and then went to talk the matter over with Cal Corning, who had not been away from home, as Nick Ocker had told the boys.
“It’s a villainous piece of business,” was Corning’s comment. “Why, those rascals have kidnaped the lads! They ought every one of them to be shot down!”
“I agree with you,” answered Tom. “But first we’ve got to find them. You told them to go to a place called Gansen Lake, didn’t you?”
“Yes. It’s one of the finest spots in this vicinity for camping out.”
“Then I think I’d better ride over there and try to find out what happened,” went on the twins’ father. “I’d like you to come along.”
“I sure will, Mr. Rover. And we’ll take guns along too—we may need ’em,” went on Cal Corning, an angry look in his eyes. “I hope we can round those rascals up. Things have been pretty peaceable like in this county, and we want ’em to continue that way. We don’t harbor no bandits nor kidnapers either.”
Tom waited until Cal Corning had swallowed a hasty breakfast. For himself, he managed to drink a cup of coffee at the earnest solicitation of Miss Jennie and Miss Lucy, both of whom were highly excited over what was taking place. Then the two men rode off toward Lake Gansen.
It was an easy matter for Corning to locate the spot where the four boys had camped. On the edge of the lake they found the remains of the campfire, and, searching the vicinity, came upon a handkerchief bearing Fred’s initials. But everything was gone, for Ocker and Digby had taken the things away the evening before.
Cal Corning was a thorough backwoodsman and after a careful search declared that all of the horses had passed up to Sunset Trail. They followed the hoofmarks for a short distance, but soon lost them where the trail became rocky.
It was long after dark before Tom Rover returned to the Corning homestead. Cal had preceded him, but Tom had been loath to give up the hunt for the missing ones. He had found absolutely no trace of the boys, and he was increasingly dispirited. For the time being all thoughts concerning Peter Garrish and his doings were forgotten.
“I’ve got to do something,” muttered Tom to himself. “I’ve simply got to do something!” But what to do he did not know. He started another hunt the next day, and then, being equally unsuccessful in getting a trace of the four boys, rode over to Maporah and sent a long telegram to his two brothers.
The telegram was delivered to Dick Rover at the home on Riverside Drive in New York just at a time when Dick and Sam were so excited they could scarcely contain themselves.
And their excitement was justified, for while the two men had been eating dinner in Dick’s home, a messenger had appeared at the front door with two communications, one addressed to Dick and the other to his younger brother. Each of the two letters was similar to that sent to Tom Rover. In the one addressed to Dick the three rascals, Davenport, Jackson and Tate, demanded fifty thousand dollars for the safe return of Jack, while in the communication addressed to Sam the same amount of money was demanded for the safe return of Fred. Completely bewildered by these letters the two men had been discussing the situation when the telegram from Tom was brought in.
“Poor Tom is in the same boat!” exclaimed Sam. “Those scoundrels want fifty thousand dollars from him or they won’t return the twins.”
“That means that Tate, Jackson and Davenport want a hundred and fifty thousand dollars from us for the safe return of the four boys,” came from Dick. “It’s a pretty stiff demand, I take it.”
“Are you going to pay it, Dick?”
“Not if I can possibly help it. Fifty thousand dollars isn’t a flea bite. At the same time, I don’t want them to hurt Jack or the other boys. I know Davenport and his crowd pretty well. They are about as hard-boiled as they come. I suppose the gang are as mad as hornets at me and the kids for the way we turned the tables on them down in the oil fields.”
“Well, I don’t believe in giving them a cent, either,” said Sam. “Just the same, it makes me shiver to think of what they might do to Fred if I don’t pony up.”
“We’ve got to do something, that’s sure.” Dick Rover began to pace up and down the floor. “I expect Tom is just as much worried as we are. It was an outrage to let Davenport and those other fellows out of prison, and this proves it. I’ll tell you what, Sam. I’d give a good part of that fifty thousand dollars right now to get my hands on Davenport,” and Dick’s eyes sparked angrily.
From the servant girl they learned that the message had been delivered by a boy. Who the fellow was she did not know, nor could she give a very good description of his appearance.
“I suppose he was a kid just hired for the occasion,” said Dick. “Most likely he knew nothing about the fellow who gave him the letters.” And in this surmise Jack’s father was correct.
The two talked the matter over for half an hour and then Dick telephoned to a telegraph station and sent a telegram to Tom stating he was starting for Maporah immediately and that Sam would probably follow in a day or two.
“Somebody will have to go down to the office in the morning,” said Dick. “I’ll take the midnight train for Chicago. You can follow just as soon as you can fix things up in Wall Street,” and so it was arranged.
Although he did not know it, Dick Rover’s departure for the Grand Central Terminal was noted by a young man who was watching the three Rover houses from the other side of Riverside Drive. This person was none other than the fellow who had introduced himself to the Rover boys as Joe Brooks. And it was Brooks, acting on information sent to him by telegraph by Davenport, who had made the demands in the letters received by Dick and Sam.
“Going West, eh?” muttered Brooks to himself, after he saw Dick on his way on the midnight limited. “I’ll have to let Davenport know about this,” and he immediately forwarded a cipher dispatch. Then he returned to the vicinity of the Rover homes to learn if possible what Sam Rover intended to do.
He remained around the vicinity for more than an hour, then returned to his hotel to snatch a few hours’ sleep. But he was up by seven o’clock and once more on the watch, and he followed Sam down into Wall Street and at noon saw Sam also depart for Maporah. Then he sent an additional dispatch to Davenport.
“I think I might as well go out West myself now,” he told himself after the dispatch had been forwarded. “There is no use of letting Davenport and that crowd get their fists on one hundred and fifty thousand dollars when I’m not around. If I’m not on hand they may forget all the work I’ve done on the case. I’m entitled to my full share of whatever comes in, and I intend to have it.” A few hours later he too departed for the West, getting a ticket for Allways. He traveled as he was as far as Chicago. But there, before changing to the other train, he donned the costume of a Westerner and put on a wig of sandy gray hair which made him look considerably older than he was.
Although he had not said a word to anybody about it, Dick Rover carried with him on his Western trip the equivalent of seventy-five thousand dollars, part in cash and part in Liberty Bonds. When Sam left the city at noon the day following he carried a like amount of cash and securities, the two sums making the total of the amount demanded by the rascals who were holding the four boys for ransom.
“If the worst comes to the worst, we’ll have to pony up and let it go at that,” was the way Dick had expressed himself before leaving. “Just the same, I hope we won’t have to give up a cent, and that we can catch those rascals red-handed.”
Dick hoped greatly that Tom would have good news for him on his arrival. But he was doomed to disappointment. Tom rode over to the Maporah station to meet his brother, and one look at his face told Dick that so far the hunt for the missing boys had proved fruitless.
“I’m keeping the thing as quiet as possible,” said Tom, whose eyes showed that he had slept but little the past few nights. “But I’ve got Cal Corning, Hank Butts, Lew Billings, and half a dozen other men hunting high and low for the boys. So far though they haven’t turned up the slightest clew, and I haven’t been able to get a clew myself, although I’ve been riding up and down one trail and another and making inquiries of every one I met. Not a soul seems to have seen them since they were at Lake Gansen.”
“Have you received any more letters?” asked Dick.
“No. But I’m expecting one every day. Those fellows are probably as anxious as we are. They’ll want to get their money and most likely get out of the country—maybe going down into Mexico where we can’t get at them.”
“I don’t like it, Tom, that you haven’t got more word,” and now Dick’s face showed deeper anxiety than ever. “Those fellows may have got cold feet on the whole proposition and done away with the boys.”
“That may be so, Dick,” and Tom’s voice took on a tone of hopelessness. “I wouldn’t put it past Davenport and that gang to do anything. I only pray to Heaven that the boys may still be alive.”