to go with him.
"Wish I was going on that hunt for the mine with you," said Ben, who had to remain with his folks.
"So do I," added Shadow, who was to stay with Ben.
"Never mind, we'll rely on you to look after the girls," answered Dave.
"Oh, we can do that," said Ben, with a grin.
"Say, that puts me in mind of a story," cried Shadow. "No reflection on the girls here," he added, hastily. "Once on a time a young minister paid a visit to some relatives in the country. He got a letter stating they'd be glad to have him come and would he attend a picnic in the woods and help to take care of four girls. He wrote back that he would be delighted. When he arrived and started for the picnic he found the four girls waiting for him--four old maids from thirty to forty years of age!" And at this joke a smile went around, in which the girls joined.
Soon the last of the good-bys had been said. The girls were on the observation end of the last car, and as the train rolled onward towards Yellowstone Park they waved their handkerchiefs and the boys on the platform swung their caps. Then the train slowly disappeared from view.
"Well, here we are," said Phil, with something like a sigh.
"We've got an hour to wait before that train comes along for Butte," said Roger, consulting his watch.
"How far is Butte?" went on the shipowner's son.
"About a hundred miles, as the crow flies," answered Dave. "But I guess it is longer by the railroad, and we'll have some climbing to do--to get into the Rockies."
"Say, supposing we ask the men around here if they saw anything of Merwell and Haskers?" suggested the senator's son.
"It won't do any harm," answered Dave.
Inquiries were made of the baggage-master, a ticket-seller, and half a dozen other men around the depot. But none of them remembered having seen the pair mentioned.
"They probably kept out of sight," was Dave's comment. "They would be afraid we were on their trail, or that we had telegraphed ahead about them."
From the station-master they learned that their train was two hours behind time, and would not reach Butte until late that night. This being so, they left their baggage on check at the depot and took a stroll around, looking at the sights. Then they found a small restaurant and got what they called supper, although it was not a very good meal.
When the train came along it proved to be crowded, for there had been a sale of public and private lands not far away and many of the disappointed would-be buyers were on board.
"We can't take any through passengers," said the conductor, and waved the boys back.
"We only want to go to Butte," answered Roger.
"Oh, all right then. Take the forward car, next to the baggage-car. But I don't think you'll find any seats. We are swamped because of the land sale."
The boys ran forward, after making sure that their baggage was tumbled into a baggage-car. As the conductor had said, the cars were overcrowded, and they had to stand up in the aisle. A number of the men were smoking and they continued to do so, even though it was against the rules.
"Pretty rough-looking crowd," whispered Phil, after the train had started.
"Not all bad," was Dave's comment. "But some of them are certainly the limit," and he nodded towards one crowd that were talking loudly and using language that was anything but choice. In this crowd one fellow in particular, a tall, thin, leathery individual, called by the others Sol Blugg, seemed to be a leading spirit.
About half an hour had passed, and the conductor had just gone through collecting tickets, when the man called Blugg pushed up alongside another man who sat on the arm of a rear seat.
"Say, do you know what Staver jest told me?" he exclaimed.
"No, what?" demanded the other man.
"He says as how he is almost sure Abe Blower put this crimp in our land deal," responded the man called Blugg.
"Abe Blower!" exclaimed the other. "Say, maybe thet's right. Blower ain't got no use fer our crowd. Well, if he did it, he better look out!"
CHAPTER XIV
IN BUTTE
Dave overheard the conversation between the two rough-looking men in the crowded car, and so did Phil and Roger. All glanced at each other suggestively.
"Do you think they are talking about the Abe Blower we want to find?" asked Roger of Dave, in a whisper.
"More than likely, Roger," was the answer. "It is not likely that there are two Abe Blowers in this part of the country. It's not a common name, like Smith."
"Listen," whispered Phil, for the two men had begun to talk again.
"I lost a lot of money by havin' thet land deal fall through," growled the fellow called Blugg.
"So did I," responded the man on the arm of the car seat. "We all did."
"If Abe Blower knows we are on his trail he'll keep out o' sight."
"Maybe; although Blower wa'n't never the fellow to take backwater," responded the other, doubtfully.
"We'll git him yet; see if we don't," was the savage response. And then followed some conversation in such a low tone that the boys could not hear what was said.
But it was easy to surmise one thing, which was that these men hated Abe Blower most cordially. And because of this, and because they had heard that Blower was a strictly upright, honest man, the chums concluded that these fellows in the car had been trying in some manner to put through some land deal that was not strictly fair, and that Abe Blower had foiled their designs.
Presently a third man, a fellow named Larry Jaley, joined the others. All were very bitter against Abe Blower, and each vowed that he would "git square" with the old prospector sooner or later. From their talk the boys learned that the men, along with some others of the crowd, were stopping in Butte at the Solid Comfort House, a place that, so they afterwards learned, bore a very shady reputation. Nothing was said about where Abe Blower was stopping, and the youths did not dare to inquire, for fear of making the men suspicious.
"They might think we were friends of Blower sent to spy on them," said Phil. "They must know we have heard some of their talk."
"If Abe Blower is so well known in Butte it ought to be an easy matter to find him," returned Dave. "We can look for him in the directory and the telephone book, and ask for him at the hotels and mining offices."
"And remember, I have one of his old addresses," said Roger. "Maybe the folks at that place know where he has gone."
It was dark when they rolled into the railroad station at Butte, a typical western mining city, with a population of about thirty-five thousand souls.
"No use in trying to do anything to-night," said Roger, who was tired and knew his chums must be the same. "We'll go to some first-class hotel and start on our hunt for Blower in the morning."
"Yes, I'm dead tired," answered Phil, who had been yawning for the last hour.
The boys had the address of a good hotel, and were soon on the way to the place. They saw the man called Sol Blugg start off down a side street with his companions.
"I wish we would run into Link Merwell and Job Haskers," remarked Dave, as they hurried towards the hotel.
"What good would that do?" demanded the senator's son.
"Then I'd know they hadn't left Butte to look for that lost mine."