THE ROVER BOYS Boxed Set: 26 Illustrated Adventure Novels. Stratemeyer Edward

the time of day.

      "Yes, sir," answered Tom. "Are you bound there?"

      "I am going through that city. You belong there, I suppose?"

      "No, sir, I've never been there before."

      "Is that so. Going on a pleasure trip, or to try your luck? Or perhaps you are on business?"

      "Yes, I am on business."

      "You are rather young to be out on business, it strikes me," went on the burly stranger, after a pause.

      "Oh, I've been around a little before," said Tom coolly.

      "Yes, you look like a lad who has seen some thing of the world. Well, I've seen something of the world myself."

      "Are you a Western man?" asked Tom, who thought it would not hurt to do a little questioning on his own account.

      "Yes, I was born and brought up in Colorado."

      The reply interested Tom.

      "But you have traveled, you say?"

      "Yes, I've been to San Francisco and to New York, and also up in the mining districts of the Northwest Territory, and in the mines of Mexico. I've been what they call a rolling stone." And the burly man laughed lightly, but the laugh was not a pleasant one.

      "Then you ought to know a good deal about mining," Tom ventured. "I am interested in the mines of Colorado. In what part of the State were you located?"

      "Well, I lived in Ouray some time, and also in Silverton, but I went here, there, and everywhere, prospecting and buying up old claims cheap."

      "I hope you struck it rich."

      "Oh, I'm fairly well fixed," was the careless answer. "So you are interested in our mines, eh? Got a claim?"

      "No, sir, but I am going out there to look up a claim — if I can."

      "Take my advice and leave mining alone — unless you have had experience. The chance for a tenderfoot, as we call 'em, getting along has gone by."

      "I shan't waste much time in looking around."

      "And don't waste your money either. Nine mines out of ten that are offered for sale are not worth buying at any price. I've been all through the miff and I know."

      "I suppose you know a great many of the old time miners?" said Tom, after another pause.

      "Oh, yes, loads of them, Ouray Frank, Bill Peters, Denver Phil, and all the rest."

      "Did you ever meet a man by the name of Jack Wumble?"

      The burly man started and spilled a little of the coffee he was holding to drink.

      "Why — er — confound the rocking of the train," he answered. "Why, yes, I met Wumble once or twice, but never had any business with him. Are you going to buy a mine from him?"

      "No, I am going to try to get him to help locate one that is missing," answered Tom, before he had thought twice.

      "Indeed! Well, I've heard Jack is a good man at locating paying claims. Do you know him personally?"

      "I do not."

      A gleam of satisfaction lit up the burly man's face, but Tom did not notice it.

      "Wumble used to hang out in Denver. Going to meet him there, I suppose."

      "No, I'm going to meet him in Chicago, if I can."

      "I see."

      So the talk ran on until the meal was finished. Then the burly man bowed pleasantly and the two separated.

      When Tom rejoined his brothers Sam asked him about the man.

      "I'm sure I've seen him before," he said. "But where is more than I can say."

      "I think I've seen him, too," said Dick. "And I must say I don't much like his looks."

      When Tom told of the conversation that had been held, Dick shook his head seriously.

      "I wouldn't talk so much, Tom," he remarked. "It won't do any good, and it may do harm, you know."

      "I'll be more careful hereafter, Dick. I am sorry myself that I had so much to say," returned Tom.

      CHAPTER XVIII

       THE ROVER BOYS IN CHICAGO

       Table of Contents

      "Chicago! Change cars for St. Louis and the West!"

      The long express had rolled into the great depot and the porters were busy brushing up the passengers in the parlor cars and gathering together their baggage — and incidentally, the tips which were forthcoming.

      The Rover boys were soon out on the platform and making for the street.

      "Cab, sir; coupe?"

      "Mornin' papers! All de news! Have a paper, boss?"

      The crowd of newsboys and hackmen made Dick smile. "It's a good deal like New York, isn't it?" he observed.

      "Yes, indeed," replied Sam. "Where shall we go — to the Western Palace?"

      "We might as well. The sooner we find this Jack Wumble the better."

      At that moment the burly man who had talked to Tom in the dining car brushed up to them.

      "Good-morning, my young friend," he said to Tom. "Can I be of any assistance to you?"

      "It I don't know as you can," replied Tom coldly. "I guess we can find our way around."

      "Glad to help you if I can," went on the man.

      "We want to get to the Western Palace," put in Sam, before his brothers could stop him.

      "That is quite a distance from here." The man hesitated a moment. "I was going there myself. If you don't mind riding on a street car I'll show you the way."

      "A street car is good enough for us," returned Sam. He was anxious to see more of the stranger, for he wished if possible to recollect where he had seen the fellow before.

      A passing car was hailed and they all got on board, each carrying a valise, for the Rover boys had decided that trunks would be too cumbersome for the trip. They sat close together, and during the ride the stranger endeavored to make himself as agreeable as possible.

      "My name is Henry Bradner," he said, introducing himself. "Out in the mines they used to call me Lucky Harry, and a good many of my friends call me that still. May I ask your names?"

      "My name is Sam Rover," said the boy. "This is my brother Dick, and this my brother Tom."

      There were handshakings all around. "Glad to know you," said Bradner. "I hope you find Jack Wumble and that he locates your mine for you."

      "I've been thinking that I've seen you before," said Sam bluntly. "But for the life of me I can't place you."

      "Perhaps we've met somewhere in the East — New York, for instance. Have any of you been in Chicago before?"

      "No."

      "It's a great city and there are many sights worth seeing. If you wished I wouldn't mind showing you around a bit this afternoon or tomorrow."

      "Thanks, but we won't have time," said Dick shortly. This off-handed invitation made him more suspicious than ever.

      The talking continued until at last Henry Bradner stopped the car.

      "Here we are," he said. "The Palace of the West is one block down yonder side street."

      "The Palace of the West?" repeated Tom. "I thought it was called the Western Palace."

      "Well, it's all the same," laughed the man. But it was not the same by any means. While the Western Palace was a first-class hotel in every respect, the Palace of the West was