“First of all, we’ll read dad’s letter,” said Frank. “These are the instructions he promised, I suppose.”
He opened the envelope and read:
“My Dear Boys:
“I could have given you all the instructions that were necessary in the telegram I sent to your mother, but I thought it best that you come to Chicago first and have a little rest before resuming your journey. This would also give me a chance to tell you more about the mission I have decided to send you on. The truth of the matter is, I have been hurt, and am now laid up in a miner’s cabin and have been unable to continue my investigations in the case I have in hand. For this reason I am calling on you to help me, for I think I can trust to your abilities by now by reason of the assistance you have given me in other cases. I did not want to worry your mother needlessly, which is the reason I did not mention my injury. It is not serious but it will be some time before I am able to be on my feet again, and, in the meanwhile, time is precious.
“In my investigations here I have discovered a secret concerning some stolen gold. It is this matter that I wish you to investigate for me. To do so it will be necessary for you to come to Lucky Bottom, Montana, at once. Have a good night’s rest at the hotel and then come on here. I am under the care of a miner by the name of Hank Shale, and when you reach Lucky Bottom anyone will be able to tell you where to find his place. I shall be expecting you, so do not fail me. I hope you have a pleasant trip. Do not worry about me, as I am in good hands and progressing favorably.
Frank put down the letter, with a low whistle.
“So that’s the reason he called for us!” he said. “Dad’s been hurt.”
“He says it isn’t very serious.”
“It’s serious enough when it means he’s not able to be on his feet. Perhaps we ought to start out to him right away.”
“Not much use of that,” objected Joe. “We wouldn’t gain much time and we’d be so tired when we got there that we wouldn’t be of much use to him for a day or so. I think we’d better rest here tonight, as he suggests, and go on tomorrow.”
Frank considered his brother’s advice sound, and, after enjoying a good dinner, the boys went out and wandered about the busy streets for almost an hour, enjoying the sights of the Windy City. But it was a cold, bitter evening, and they soon sought the warmth and comfort of their hotel again, going to bed early, because they were tired after their long hours on the train.
They were told by the information clerk that their train would leave at eleven o’clock the following morning. This gave them plenty of time for a good sleep, a bath and a leisurely breakfast. When all their preparations for the continuation of the journey had been made they presented themselves at the desk in the lobby to check out. Frank paid the bill, and the boys were just about to move away from the desk when a neat, elderly man somewhat below medium height, came up to him.
“Are you the Hardy boys?” he asked, glancing quizzically at them.
“Yes.”
“I was told to be on the lookout for you,” said the elderly man. “My name is Hopkins.”
“Who sent you, Mr. Hopkins?” asked Frank politely.
“I am your father’s lawyer—that is, in Chicago,” said the neat little man. “He sent me a telegram last night asking me to look you up here and do what I could for you. I have arranged for your transportation as far as Lucky Bottom. That’s where you are bound, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s the place.”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Hopkins, “if you’ll come with me I’ll see that your accommodations are ready for you. I made the arrangements with the railway this morning.”
Reflecting that they were certainly obtaining first-class service on their trip across country, the Hardy boys accompanied Mr. Hopkins across the lobby and out to the street, where a taxi was waiting. The porter put their luggage inside and Mr. Hopkins got in with them, directing the driver to the station.
“Your father is an old friend of mine,” said the lawyer, “and I’m only too glad to be of service to his sons. I handle a great deal of his Chicago business for him.”
Although the Hardy boys had not been aware that their father had a great deal of Chicago business, they were properly appreciative of Mr. Hopkins’ kindness, and when they finally reached the station and he guided them through the gates to the train they expressed their thanks for what he had done for them.
“It’s nothing—nothing,” he said brusquely.
“We can hardly look at it that way,” replied Frank.
Mr. Hopkins, absorbed in the details for the boys’ comfort, did not answer. Instead he turned and said:
“Porter—how about Compartment B?”
“All ready, sah! All ready!” the porter assured him, leading them to the compartment. “All ready, sah, jes’ as yoh asked.”
“We’re traveling in style,” murmured Frank, nudging his brother.
VIII
The Second Stranger
Mr. Hopkins bustled about the compartment, making everything comfortable for the Hardy boys and chatting affably.
“You’ll be looked after right until you reach Montana,” he said. “You won’t have to change trains. There’ll be no bother.”
“We’re very grateful to you—” began Frank.
The little lawyer dismissed their thanks with a gesture.
“It’s no trouble at all,” he said. “No trouble at all. Your father would do as much for me any day.”
From out on the
