CHAPTER VIII
WHAT WAS ON THE RECORDS
"Now, what can you do with a feller like that?" demanded Mr. Hicks, in disgust. "Poor old Ike has been shinning around Sally Dickson ever since Lem brought her home from school—from Denver. And she's a nice little gal enough, at that; but she ain't got no use for Ike and he ought to see it. Gals out here don't like fellers that ain't got sperit enough to say their soul's their own. And Ike's so bashful he fair hates hisself! You've noticed that."
"But he's just as kind and good-natured as he can be," declared Ruth, her pony cantering on beside the ranchman's bigger mount.
"That don't help a feller none with a gal like Sally," grunted Mr. Hicks. "She don't want a reg'lar gump hanging around her. Makes her the laffin' stock of the hull range—don't you see? Ike better git a move on, if he wants her. 'Tain't goin' to be no bashful 'ombre that gets Sally Dickson, let me tell ye! Sendin' her lollipops by messenger—bah! He wants ter ride up and hand that gal a ring—and a good one—if he expects to ever git her into double harness. Now, you hear me!"
"Just the same," laughed Ruth, "I'm going to buy the nicest box of candy I can find, and she shall know who paid for it, too."
And she found time to purchase the box of candy while Mr. Hicks was attending to his own private business in Bullhide. The town boasted of several good stores as well as a fine hotel. Ruth went to the railroad station, however, where there was sure to be fresh candies from the East, and she bought the handsomest box she could find. Then she wrote Ike's name nicely on a card and had it tucked inside the wrapper, and the clerk tied the package up with gilt cord.
"I'll make that red-haired girl think that Ike knows a few things, after all, if he is less bold than the other boys," thought Ruth. "He's been real kind to me and maybe I can help him with Sally. If she knew beans she'd know that Ike was true blue!"
Mr. Hicks came along the street and found her soon after Ruth's errand was done and took her to the office of the young lawyer he had mentioned. This was Mr. Savage—a brisk, businesslike man, who seemed to know at once just what the girl wished to discover.
"You come right over with me to the county records office and we'll look up the history of those Tintacker Mines," he said. "Mr. Hicks knows a good deal about mining properties, and he can check my work as we go along."
So the three repaired to the county offices and the lawyer turned up the first records of the claims around Tintacker.
"There is only one mine called Tintacker," he explained. "The adjacent mines are Tintacker claims. The camp that sprang up there and flourished fifteen years ago, was called Tintacker, too. But for more than ten years the kiotes have held the fort over there for the most part—eh, Mr. Hicks?"
"And that crazy feller that's been around yere for some months," the ranchman said.
"What crazy fellow is that?" demanded Lawyer Savage, quickly.
"Why, thar's been a galoot around Tintacker ever since Spring opened. I dunno but he was thar in the winter"
"Young man, or old?" interrupted Savage.
"Not much more'n a kid, my boys say."
"You've never seen him?"
"No. But I believe he set the grass afire the other day, and made us a heap of trouble along Larruper Crick," declared the ranchman.
The lawyer looked thoughtful. "There was a young fellow here twice to look up the Tintacker properties. He came to see me the first time—that was more than a year ago. Said he had been left his father's share in the old Tintacker Mine and wanted to buy out the heirs of the other partner. I helped him get a statement of the record and the names of the other parties"
"Oh, please, Mr. Savage, what was his name?" asked Ruth, quickly.
"I don't know what his name really was," replied the lawyer, smiling. "He called himself John Cox—might have been just a name he took for the time being. There wasn't any Cox ever had an interest in the Tintacker as far as I can find. But he probably had his own reasons for keeping his name to himself. Then he came back in the winter. I saw him on the street here. That's all I know about him."
"Tenderfoot?" asked Hicks.
"Yes, and a nice spoken fellow. He made a personal inspection of the properties the first time he was here. That I know, for I found a guide for him, Ben Burgess. He stayed two weeks at the old camp, Ben said, and acted like he knew something about minerals."
Mr. Savage had found the proper books and he discovered almost at once that there had been an entry made since he had last looked up the records of Tintacker a year or more before.
"That fellow did it!" exclaimed the lawyer. "He must have found those other heirs and he's got possession of the entire Tintacker Mine holdings. Yes-sir! the records are as straight as a string. And the record was made last winter. That is what he came back here for. Now, young lady, what do you want to know about it all?"
"I want a copy, please, of the record just as it stands—the present ownership of the mine, I mean," said Ruth. "I want to send that to Uncle Jabez."
"It is all held now in the name of John Cox. The original owners were two men named Symplex and Burbridge. It is Burbridge's heirs this fellow seems to have bought up. Now, he told me his father died and left his share of the Tintacker to him. That means that 'Symplex' was this young Cox's father. One, or the other of them didn't use his right name—eh?" suggested the lawyer.
"But that doesn't invalidate the title. It's straight enough now. The Tintacker Mine—whether it is worth ten cents or ten thousand dollars belongs—to somebody known as John Cox—somebody who can produce the deeds. You say your uncle bought into the mine and took personal notes with the mine for security, Miss?"
"That is the way I understand it," Ruth replied.
"And it looks as though the young man used the money to buy out the other owners. That seems straight enough. Your uncle's security is all clear as far as the title of the mine goes"
"But according to what I know," broke in Mr. Hicks, "he might as well have a lien on a setting of hen's eggs as an interest in the Tintacker Mine."
"That's about it," admitted Mr. Savage. "I don't believe the mine is worth the money it cost the young fellow to have these records made."
"Well," said Ruth, with a sigh; "I'll pay you for making the copy, just the same; and I'll send it home to uncle. And, if you don't mind, Mr. Savage, I'll send him your name and address, too. Perhaps he may want you to make some move in the matter of the Tintacker property."
This was agreed upon, and the lawyer promised to have the papers ready to send East in two or three days. Then Mr. Hicks took Ruth to the hotel to dinner, and they started for the ranch again soon after that meal.
When they came in sight of the Crossing, Ruth saw that the little red painted schoolhouse was open. All the windows were flung wide and the door was ajar; and she could see Sally Dickson's brilliant hair, as well as other heads, flitting back and forth past the windows.
"Hi Jefers!" ejaculated Bill Hicks. "I reckon thar's goin' to be a dance at the schoolhouse Saturday night. I nigh forgot it. We'll all hafter go over so that you folks from Down East kin see what a re'l Montany jamboree is like. The gals is fixin' up for it now, I reckon."
"I want to see Sally," said Ruth, smiling.
"Huh!" grunted Bill, with a glance at the big box of candy the Eastern girl held so carefully before her. "You kin see her all right. That red head of hers shines like a beacon in the night. And I'll speak to Lem."
Ruth rode her pony close to one of the open windows of the little schoolhouse. She could see that the benches and desks had been all moved out—probably stacked in a lean-to at the end of the house. The floor had been swept and mopped up and the girls were helping Sally trim the walls and certain pictures which hung thereon with festoons of colored paper. One girl was polishing the lamp chimneys, and another was filling and trimming the lamps themselves.
"Oh, hullo!" said the storekeeper's daughter, seeing Ruth at the window, and leaving her work to come across the room. "You're one of those young ladies stopping at Silver Ranch, aren't you?"
"No," said Ruth, smiling. "I'm one of the girls visiting Jane Ann. I hope you are going to invite us to your party here. We shall enjoy coming, I am sure."
"Guess you won't think much of our ball," returned Sally Dickson. "We're plain folk. Don't do things like they do East."
"How do you know what sort of parties we have at home?" queried Ruth, laughing at her. "We're not city girls. We live in the country and get our fun where we can find it, too. And perhaps we can help you have a good time—if you'll let us."
"Well, I don't know," began Sally, yet beginning to smile, too; nobody could be grouchy and stare into Ruth Fielding's happy face for long.
"What do you do for music?"
"Well, one of the boys at Chatford's got a banjo and old Jim Casey plays the accordeon—when he's sober. But the last time the music failed us, and one of the boys tried to whistle the dances; but one feller that was mad with him kept showing him a lemon and it made his mouth twist up so that he couldn't keep his lips puckered nohow."
Ruth giggled at that, but said at once:
"One of my friends plays the piano real nicely; but of course it would be too much trouble to bring Jane Ann's piano away over here. However, my chum, Helen, plays the violin. She will bring it and help out on the music, I know. And we'd all be glad of an invitation."
"Why, sure! you come over," cried Sally, warming up to Ruth's advances. "I suppose a bunch of the Silver outfit boys will be on hand. Some of 'em are real nice boys"
"And that reminds me," said Ruth, advancing the package of candy. "One of the gentlemen working for Mr. Hicks asked me to hand you this, Miss Dickson. He was very particular that you should get it safely." She put the candy into the red-haired girl's hands. "And we certainly will be over—all of us—Saturday evening."
Before Sally could refuse Ike's present, or comment upon it at all, Ruth rode away from the schoolhouse.