CHAPTER XXX.
THE MYSTERY SOLVED.
One day the two were sitting in the doorway of Bill Dawkins’ hut, wherethe hospitable owner still made them welcome. They were looking overthe few specimens of rock “rich in fine silver” that Mr. Ransom hadproduced that first day, when the man thrust his hands into his pocketsto see if any more fragments remained there. Finally from an insidepocket he added to the growing pile of treasures a piece of flat,tarnished metal. He gave a little shudder as his fingers released it,and Jimmie glanced up in time to see a sudden change in his father’seye, like a glimpse of suddenly remembered fear.
“What is it, father?” Jimmie cried sharply.
The man started, looked down and then smiled foolishly.
“I don’t know, son,” he replied slowly.
Jimmie picked up the bit of tarnished metal, and gave a sudden start inhis turn. Quickly controlling himself, he asked as quietly as possible,“Where did you get this, father?”
“I don’t know, son,” repeated the man again. “I don’t know. I must havehad it a long time,--son,--a long time.”
Jimmie looked at the little dull article a moment and then leaningforward fastened it to the breast of his father’s coat. Mr. Ransombegan to look uneasy and a wild light sprang to his eyes for aninstant. Jimmie immediately detached the metal piece and put it in hispocket. Then he began to chat with his father about the trees, themountains, the hut and kindred matters, and apparently forgot all aboutthe incident.
But the moment that Bill Dawkins returned from his day’s hunting in themountains, Jimmie was off like an arrow from a bow for the camp down onthe Big Bend.
The party were just enjoying a quiet evening meal prepared underMountain Jim’s tutelage, when Jimmie burst in upon them.
“See that!” he cried breathlessly, holding up the piece of tarnishedmetal. “And that!” he added, turning the article over so as to show itsblackened under side.
“It’s a badge!” cried Persimmons.
“A Northwest Mounted badge!” added Ralph.
“And it has a name scratched on the back!” reported the professor.
“And the name--is--_Nevins_!” concluded Mountain Jim in a tone of awe.
“And _my father_ had that in his pocket!” said Jimmie, tears ofexcitement rolling down his cheeks.
“Could your father--possibly--be--Nevins?” asked the professor slowly.
“But Nevins died in the snow!” protested Harry Ware.
“No, Carthew only _thought_ he died. No one _knew_,” said Mountain Jimreminiscently.
“But the Indians?” suggested Ralph.
“Maybe they saved him,--who knows?” said Jimmie, his eyes shining. “Andmaybe they let him wander away when he got stronger because they saw hewas crazy!”
And so the talk went on, one suggestion and one surmise followinganother until the long evening was spent. The mystery could not befully solved, but all agreed not to remind Jimmie’s father of thehorrible experience that had been his, if he were, indeed, the subjectof Trooper Carthew’s tale.
The next day the faithful doctor approved this decision. He alsopromised that he would get word to the trooper of this strange sequelto his story.
To digress, for a moment, as we may not linger much longer over thehappy ending of Jimmie’s search. Time and the trooper proved, that Mr.Ransom and “Nevins of Ours” were, indeed, one and the same. The secondname had been assumed as a protection, and so had prevented the findingof Jimmie’s father long ago. A year or two after the incidents justrelated there was a reunion of the two men who had long before faceddeath together on the solitary trail, and by that time the clouds offorgetfulness had been so largely dissipated from Mr. Ransom’s befoggedbrain that he was able to thank the stalwart trooper for his efforts inhis behalf.
Although much that had intervened between the time of Mr. Ransom’sdisappearance in the snow and the time of his mental recovery was neverclearly known, yet flashes of memory recalled to him Indians, warmblankets and good food. And his friends concluded that the Indians hadreally captured and saved him, but through some superstitious regardfor his crazed condition, had been kindly disposed toward him andgiven him his freedom.
But the silver? It was many days before Horace Ransom was strong enoughto compel his brain to work backward to locate the spot where he hadfound the rich ore. Finally he succeeded, and the professor and theboys eventually accompanied him to the recess in the hills where therich find had been made. The professor declared that the vein was ofgreat richness and would yield a vast amount of silver, and so itsubsequently proved.
The new Horace Ransom--the alert, middle-aged man of property that hadarisen from the ashes of the mysterious derelict of the mountains--wasanxious for the boys and the professor all to take shares in his mine,but they refused. Instead they turned their interest, which Mr. Ransominsisted they possessed, over to Mountain Jim.
All this, of course, did not take place in a day. While Mr. Ransomwas convalescing, the boys had much sport on the great Columbia innative canoes. They also had several adventurous hunting trips andmemorable mountain climbs. But possibly of all their recollections ofthe Canadian Rockies the remembrance of the strange reunion of “the boyfrom nowhere” and his father was destined to stand out as the brightestand best. Little did they imagine when Ralph rescued Jimmie from thehands of the brutal brakeman, that before many years had rolled by thewaif would be partner in the “Border Boy” silver mine, answering to thename “Mr. James Ransom.”
And here we will break off this tale. Another volume might easily bewritten relating further doings of these boys in the Canadian Rockies.But space forbids, and we must defer further acquaintance with our ladstill we meet them once more in the next volume of this series, THEBORDER BOYS ON THE ST. LAWRENCE.
THE END.