Chapter XLII: The Lost Is Found

This time Westy uttered a cry, even if only one of surprise, but still a cry and it awakened the little slumbering camp.

He had paddled back to shore by the time Uncle Jeb and Artie reached there. Telling them of his discovery, they jumped into the canoe and went back to the spot. The skeletons were still floating there all right and with the aid of their paddles the boys succeeded in pushing the spooky-looking things onto shore.

Needless to say another night was lost in which to sleep, but they were in no mood to lie down in peaceful slumber after looking at anything like that. Lying on the shore side by side in the yellow moonlight, they were a weird and ghastly sight.

Westy bent down and saw that around the neck of one was an object of some kind. He touched it carefully and then again. Taking out his trusty penknife, he cut the string that held it, not caring to touch the poor creature with his bare hands.

As it came off, and Westy held it up, he saw to his surprise that it was an oil-skin wallet. No wonder it had stayed intact while the flesh of its owner had deteriorated into nothingness!

He held it up in the light while Uncle Jeb and Artie gathered around him. It was air-tight all right and Westy found, when he finally got it open, that it contained papers; probably some important, official documents, they thought.

While the moon was bright it was not light enough to see clearly and so be able to read them.

When morning came and breakfast was finished, Westy brought the papers out. The writing was pretty unintelligible now, but still Westy could make out words here and there. He gasped with astonishment and read aloud to his dumbfounded listeners.

Mr. John Temple’s name was mentioned, as representing a certain railroad, and giving him the right of way over a certain tract of ground belonging to one Ezra Knapp, for a given consideration. It all ran along those lines and there was at least enough decipherable to know what it was all about.

“It’s the agreement!” exclaimed Uncle Jeb, “thet Mr. Temple felt so bad over losing!”

“Then----” before Artie could finish Westy broke in.

“They must be the skeletons of the lost surveyors!”

How those poor men met their death in that watery grave is not known, probably never will be, but it is a certainty, as Westy remarked, that no matter how useless Ollie Baxter’s life may have been, his death was timely and for some good purpose.

Westy figured that the force of Ollie’s body in striking bottom must have disturbed those two skeletons, lying there through all those years, sending them floating to the top, while his remained on bottom.

At any event Ollie Baxter has never been seen again, but he surely did Westy a good turn in doing what he did.

They telegraphed from Eagle City the next day, to Mr. Temple, of Westy’s wonderful find.

It meant great rejoicing to Mr. Temple and before he left Bridgeboro for the West, he called on Westy’s father.

He told Mr. Martin what a big thing it had been for his son to have unearthed the agreement. He went on to say that it meant one of the biggest business deals of the day and that they would surely have to reward him.

Mr. Martin said he spoke for Westy and knew that his son wouldn’t think of any such thing, but was only too happy to have rendered Mr. Temple that service.

After Mr. Temple had left, promising to bring the boys safely back with him, Mrs. Martin looked at her husband, eyes gleaming with pride.

“With all your shouting,” she said smilingly, “about that boy’s romanticism and lack of business ideas he’s proven himself a bigger and better business man than you are!”

“My dear!” said Mr. Martin with good-humor, “don’t rub it in! I know when I’m licked!”

One morning, a few days later, Westy and Mr. Temple stood looking up toward the precipice. The older man was telling this wonder-scout that everything was settled and in readiness to continue where they had to leave off ten years ago. The cliff, he told him, with its little tragic hollow would be dynamited within the next two months to make way for the interests of bigger and better business.

“So, what do you think of your accomplishments, Westy?” Mr. Temple asked, waving his hand over toward the Pass and then to the Cliff.

“Well,” replied Westy, smiling, “I guess that’s that!”

THE END