Part 12 (1/2)

”I wouldn't be surprised if that man was a gambler, Ned,” he said to his chum, one afternoon, as they were speeding along. The man in question was several seats away from Tom.

”He does look like one,” agreed Ned.

”I needn't advise you not to fall in with any of his invitations to play cards, I suppose,” went on Tom, after a pause.

”No, indeed, it's something I don't do,” answered Ned, with a laugh.

”But it might be a good thing to speak to Abe Abercrombie about him.

If that man's a sharper perhaps Abe knows him, or has seen him, for Abe has traveled around in the West considerable.”

”We'll ask him,” agreed Tom, but the miner, when his attention was called to the man, said he had never seen him before.

”He does look like a confidence man,” agreed Abe, ”but as long as he doesn't approach us we can't do anything, and don't need to worry.”

There was little need to call the attention of either Mr. Damon or Mr. Parker to the man, for Mr. Damon was busy watching the scenery, as this trip was a new one to him, and he was continually blessing something he saw or thought of. As for Mr. Parker, he was puzzling over some new theories he had in mind, and he said little to the others.

On the night of the same day on which Tom had called special attention to the man with the black mustache, our hero went to his berth rather late. He had sent some telegrams to his father and one to Miss Nestor, and, when he turned in he saw the ”gambler,” as he had come to call him, going into the smoking compartment of the coach. Though Tom thought of the man as a gambler, there was no evidence, as yet, that he was one, and he had made no effort to approach any of our friends, though he had observed them closely.

How long Tom had been asleep he did not know, but he was suddenly awakened by feeling his pillow move. At first he thought it was caused by the swaying of the train, and he was about to go to sleep again, when there came a movement that he knew could not have been caused by any unevenness of the roadbed.

Then, like a flash there came to Tom's mind the thought that under his pillow, in a little leather case he had made for it, was the map, showing the location of the valley of gold.

He sat up suddenly, and made a lunge for the pillow. He felt a hand being hurriedly withdrawn. Tom made a grab for it, but the fingers slipped from his grasp.

”Here! Who are you!” cried Tom, endeavoring to peer through the darkness.

”It's all right--mistake,” murmured a voice.

Tom leaned suddenly forward and parted the curtains of his berth.

There was a dim light burning in the aisle of the car. By the gleam of it the young inventor caught sight of a man hurrying away, and he felt sure the fellow who had put his hand under his pillow was the man with the black mustache. He confirmed this suspicion a moment later, for the man half turned, as if to look back, and the youth saw the mustache.

”He--he was after my map!” thought Tom, with a gasp.

He sat bolt upright. What should he do? To raise an alarm now, he felt, would only bring a denial from the man if he accused him.

There might also be a scene, and the man might get very indignant.

Then, too, Tom and his friends did not want their object made known, as it would be in the event of Tom raising an outcry and stating what was under his pillow.

He felt for the map case, opened it and saw, in the gleam of the light, that it was safe.

”He didn't get it anyhow,” murmured our hero. ”I guess I won't say anything until morning, though he did come like a thief in the night to see if he could steal it.”

Tom glanced to where his coat and other clothing hung in the little berth-hammock, and a hasty search showed that his money and ticket were safe.

”It was the map he was after all right,” mused Tom. ”I'll have a talk with Mr. Damon in the morning about what's best to do. That's why the fellow has been keeping such a close watch on us. He wanted to see who had the map.”

Then another thought came to Tom.