Riley emitted a roar of rage and astonishment. Snow was trickling down his neck. He stooped merely long enough to pick up his helmet and thrust it back on his head, where it rested at a ridiculous and rather precarious angle.
Then he gave chase to the rash youth who had thus tempted his wrath.
Chet went ploughing through the snow, directly in between the forts. Con Riley plunged recklessly in pursuit. Even yet he did not suspect the trick, did not suspect that Chet was merely luring him on to destruction.
Not until a second snowball whizzed past his head, not until a third smacked wetly against his ear, did he realize that he had plunged neatly into a trap.
He floundered about in snow up to his knees, and from either side came a volley of snowballs. They squashed against his helmet, knocking it off again, they thumped against his uniform on every side. No matter which way he turned, flying snowballs met him. And the boys took good care to keep their faces out of sight.
“Stop it!” he roared.
But the merciless bombardment continued.
He made a frantic rush toward one of the forts, but the snow was too deep to permit of rapid progress and the air seemed full of white missiles. One snowball caught him in the eye and stopped his rush momentarily. He wavered. More snowballs caught him in the rear. He turned around and a concerted bombardment opened up from each fort. Officer Riley decided that discretion was the better part of valor and he ignominiously retreated.
As for Chet Morton, he was safely ensconced behind a particularly heavy snowbank, laughing until the tears came to his eyes. When next he peeped out he saw that Officer Riley, having retrieved his precious helmet, was making great speed back toward the comparative safety of the sidewalk. With the greatest dignity that he could command under the circumstances, he brushed the snow off his uniform. Then, sadly, he resumed his beat, and headed toward the downtown part of Bayport, where citizens were more law-abiding and where snowballs were unknown.
The Hardy boys and their chums saw their enemy disappear around the block, and then Chet rose to the top of the ramparts and gave a cheer of victory.
“ ‘We have met the enemy and they are ours!’ ” he quoted.
A snowball from the opposite fort struck him on the ear and he sat down abruptly.
Then the fight began in earnest. It was not until Chet had personally led his warriors out of their fortress and across the no man’s land between to win a glorious victory over the other army and had personally washed the face of the marksman who had ruined his triumphant cheers that peace was restored. Then, the forts having been demolished, the bobsleds were pressed into service again, and the hill rang with shouts and laughter until nightfall. For Officer Con Riley made it his business to attend to duties downtown for the rest of the day.
VI
A Message from Montana
When the Hardy boys returned home that night after their afternoon’s fun and sat down to an ample hot dinner of steak and onions, with mashed potatoes, thick gravy “and all the trimmings,” as Jadbury Wilson expressed it, they found that the old miner had won a firm place in the household. He was able to be up and around again, although he hobbled painfully about, but his tales of the early days in the mining country of the West had won the interest of the women.
Mrs. Hardy was particularly interested when he talked of Montana, because of the fact that her husband was in that particular state at the time.
As for Aunt Gertrude, she was in a constant condition of solicitous excitement seeing that the old man was comfortable. And comfortable he was. It was a treat to see him relax in an easy chair after dinner, puffing contentedly at the pipe that he never allowed out of his sight.
In the evening Frank and Joe besought him to tell again the story of how he had been so basely cheated of his fortune in the West, and the women listened entranced to the strange tale.
“Do you mean to tell me that that wicked man actually ran away with all the gold you had worked for so hard?” exclaimed Aunt Gertrude indignantly.
“Looks that way, ma’am!”
“The scoundrel! I just wish I had him here for a minute. I’d tell him a few things!”
“I’d tell him a few things myself,” said Wilson mildly. “Still, it was a great many years ago and there’s no use thinkin’ about it now. The gold’s gone and I’m an old man.”
“It’s a shame!” said Mrs. Hardy.
“I guess I couldn’t have been much use as a prospector, or I’d have been able to hold on to what I got,” observed Wilson. “I’ve come to the conclusion that a man gets pretty much what he deserves in this world. If he ain’t smart enough to hold on to what he’s got, he deserves to lose it.”
“Didn’t you make anything out of your mining days at all?” put in Frank.
“Oh—a few dollars here and a few dollars there. Enough to keep me in grub and with a place to sleep. Once in a while I’d make some extra money, but it never lasted long somehow. I got a claim out in Montana yet, so far as that goes.”
“Is it worth anything?”
Jadbury Wilson shrugged and stroked his beard.
“Maybe worth much—maybe worth nothing,” he said.
“Can’t you find out?”
“I haven’t got enough money to work the property. It’s the only claim I’ve been able to pay my dues on, all these years. But I kept payin’ ’em, sort of hoping somethin’ would turn up some day. I’ve always thought it should be a good claim. It’s in a good location. But I’ve never had enough money ahead to do any more work on it.”
“Can’t you
