Owen Clancy's Happy Trail Part 3

"Who did he send it to?" cut in Burton apprehensively.

"What do I know about that? You don't think I was foolish enough to go close and try to get a line on what Hill was writing, do you? Well, after he left the telegraph office he went to the Renfrew House. I reckon that's where he stays."

"I don't like this a little bit," commented Katz. "I allow we'd better duck--and do it p.r.o.nto. If Hill is really trailin' us, maybe he has sent a telegraft message to the sheriff, back in Phoenix. We got to look sharp, Gerald, or we'll be pinched."

"That's my motion, Bob," said Burton. "Hanged if this Hill business hasn't got me on the run."

"Don't fret," continued Gerald rea.s.suringly. "I've hatched a plot that will take care of Hill, all right."

"Plot?" said Burton. "What sort of a plot?"

"Listen, Hank. You know about this Hill. I've told you and Bob how he's got a fool bee in his bonnet, and is running around the Southwest looking for his father. The old man--judging from his photograph, which Hill totes around in his pocket--is a bigger freak than Hiram is. He's got a beak like a pelican, and is homely enough to stop a clock."

"You know plenty about Hill and his hunt for his dad," returned Burton.

"You flimflammed Hill out of five hundred by offering to take him across the Mexican boundary and showing him where his father could be found,"

said Burton, with a laugh. "But you got the money, and Hill got the experience," he added.

"Which," said Gerald calmly, "is mainly the reason why Hill is trying to get even with me. I know enough about Hill's father, though, to put over a scheme that will get this cross-eyed b.u.t.tinsky off our track."

"What's the scheme?" inquired Katz.

"It hinges on this point, that Hiram Hill would rather find his father than get even with me for that 'con' game I worked on him. I'm going to write Hiram a letter, Bob, and send it to him at the Renfrew House."

"What sort of a letter?" put in Burton.

"I'm going to sign the name of his father, Upton Hill, to the thing, and play up that incident at Sixth and Main pretty strong. Where's that pen and ink, Hank? And give me a sheet of paper and envelope."

While his companions got the writing materials, Gerald seated himself at a table and began getting his thoughts busy. By the time pen, ink, and paper were put in front of him, he had his letter mapped out in his mind, and had only to put it upon paper.

"Won't Hiram know that the letter isn't in his dad's handwritin'?"

suggested Katz.

"I reckon he won't," answered Gerald craftily, leaning back in his chair with the letter in his hand. "It's been some sort of a while, Bob, since the first Klondike rush, when old 'Up' Hill disappeared. It isn't likely that Hiram remembers anything about his father's handwriting. Here's what the letter says:

"DEAR SON: Was it really you who jumped aboard my automobile at the corner of Sixth and Main this morning? My conscience has been troubling me ever since. I have hunted up the policeman and secured from him your name and address, but am in a hurry to get back to San Diego, where I live, and cannot remain in Los Angeles to prosecute a personal search for you. If you are really my son, come to San Diego, make my house at eighteen-twenty Q Street your home, and I will ask you certain questions whose answers will prove indisputably whether or not you are my son. I must have the proof, you know, because I am a very rich man, and you, as my sole relative, will inherit everything I leave. Hoping to see you in San Diego at your earliest convenience, I remain, yours expectantly, 'UPTON HILL.'"

Gerald dropped the letter on the table, and looked up at his friends with a guileful smile.

"How's that for a bait?" he asked.

"Bully!" declared Katz. "Hiram Hill will tumble all over himself to go to San Diego."

"What'll happen when he can't find any Upton Hill in San Diego?" said Burton.

"We don't care what happens--then," answered Gerald. "By that time, you know, we ought to have finished our deal with Jack Lopez, and to be away from Catalina, and where Hill will never be able to find us."

"How do you know he gave his name and address to a policeman?" continued Burton.

"That's what people always do when they get into trouble on the street, or meet with an accident, isn't it?"

"Maybe it is, but if it happens that Hill didn't give his name and address to the cop, the fact will queer that whole letter."

"I allow Hank is right, Gerald," chimed in Katz, "This here is one of them cases where you can't be too careful. Reckon I'd write another letter and change that."

"It's not necessary," insisted Gerald. "Hill was stunned. If he can't remember giving his name and address to the policeman, he'll think he did it at a time when he didn't know what he was doing. The letter goes as I have written it."

Gerald began addressing the envelope. Both the sheet of paper and the envelope were plain, and bore no clew of the hotel in which they had been written.

The letter was folded, thrust into the envelope, and the envelope sealed and stamped.

"It's dinner time, fellows," announced Gerald, "and we'll post this on our way to the noon eats. Come on."

They all got up and left the room.

"When do we hike for the island, Gerald?" asked Katz, as they went downstairs.

"We'll pull out for San Pedro to-morrow, and catch the morning boat,"

was the reply. "We want to wind up our business with Lopez and clear out before Hill discovers that letter is a fake and gets back from San Diego. We can turn the trick with ground to spare--don't fret about that."

CHAPTER IV.

CLANCY REACHES LOS ANGELES.

The Renfrew House was a very modest hostelry in South Hill Street. Hiram stopped there because the establishment was in Hill Street, and he believed in omens. Incidentally, too, he preferred the Renfrew to the Alexandria or the Hayward because the rates on the American plan were two dollars a day.

It was about eleven o'clock Monday morning when Clancy entered the lobby of the Renfrew House. The lobby was crowded, bell hops were hustling back and forth, and the place was as busy as a high-cla.s.s establishment.

Clancy stood at the counter, caught the clerk's eye, and asked for Hiram Hill. The clerk, who had curly hair, and parted it squarely in the middle, forthwith gave the newcomer his full and complete attention.

"You a friend of that guy's?" the clerk asked.

"Yes," acknowledged Clancy.

"Then I'm mighty glad you showed up."

"Why?"

"Well, I think he's locoed and needs a keeper. About every day he does some fool thing."

Clancy grinned.

"What has he done to-day?"

"Nothing yet, but he's due to break out 'most any minute. You wait around a spell and you'll---"

The clerk was interrupted by a wild whoop of "Dad! here's Hiram!" Clancy looked in the direction from which the yell came and saw a little group of people heaving around the lobby in excitement.

"That's him, now!" cried the clerk. "What did I tell you?"