talk with
the prospector. You'll know what angle to give your investigations,
Merriwell."

"But he may pull out for the hills while we're delaying here in town!"

"He'll have to get money for another grubstake before he goes any more
prospecting. Even if he has the money--which is hardly possible--the
super, on my orders, will delay him if he tries to leave."

Here was a sample of Mr. Bradlaugh's thoughtfulness which Merry deeply
appreciated.

"We'll be at the mine this evening, Mr. Bradlaugh," said he, "and if
Porter knows anything about the professor's absence, we'll do our best
to find out what it is."

"My car would be at your disposal, but just now it's in the repair
shop," went on Mr. Bradlaugh. "There are a couple of motor cycles at the
mine, though, if you find it necessary to go anywhere in a hurry. Pardo,
the super, will be glad to let you take the machines."

Frank thanked Mr. Bradlaugh for the offer, and started to leave.

"Just a moment," said the older man. "How did the boys shape up in the
practice game?"

"Fine!" Merriwell answered.

"I suppose after you have located the professor and extricated him from
any troubles he may have fallen into, you'll do your best to give us an
eleven that will make the Gold Hillers eat crow instead of turkey for
Thanksgiving?"

There was a twinkle in Mr. Bradlaugh's eyes as he spoke.

"I'll do what I can, Mr. Bradlaugh," Merry answered; "you may depend on
that."

"I am depending on it. It seems to me that the son of the greatest
baseball pitcher and football half back Yale ever produced is well
qualified to give Ophir a winning eleven. Good luck to you and your
friends, Merriwell. Wind tip this business of the professor's as soon as
you can and then get back on the football job. If I can help you in any
way, call on me."

As Frank, after murmuring further thanks, was about to step through the
office door, Woo Sing, roustabout Chinaman at the Ophir House, stepped
up on the porch with a yellow envelope in his hand.

"Whoosh!" gabbled Woo Sing, his parchmentlike face splitting in a wide
grin, "my lookee fo' you, Missul Melliwell."

"Is that telegram for me?" demanded Frank.

"Allee same," answered the Chinaman, passing it over.

Frank tore open the envelope and read the message then, with a long
whistle, he returned to put it in Mr. Bradlaugh's hands. Mr. Bradlaugh
read as follows:

"FRANK MERRIWELL, JUNIOR, Care Ophir House, Ophir, Ariz., via Gold Hil