"That is strange----" he began, and then tried the door, to find it unlocked. Another key was on the inside.

The room was pitch dark, only a dim lamp being lighted in the rear of the long hallway. Jack stepped forward to get a match from a bureau, and as he did so he stumbled over something on the floor and pitched headlong.

"Oh!" he gasped, and then gave a sudden shudder, for he had felt the body of someone beside him. "Be careful," he went on. "Make a light, quick! Here is someone on the floor! I'm afraid it's dad!"

The others piled into the room, and Randy, who happened to have some matches in his pocket, struck a light and lit the lamp.

There, on the floor of the bedroom, lay d.i.c.k Rover. There was a small cut on his left temple from which the blood was flowing. He was breathing heavily, and evidently trying to speak.

"Dad! Dad! what happened to you?" cried Jack hoa.r.s.ely, as he bent over and raised his parent up.

"He's been hurt!" exclaimed Fred. "See the cut on his forehead.

Wait--I'll get some water."

He made a dash for the pitcher and also for a towel, and while Jack supported his father on his arm the others bathed d.i.c.k Rover's face and washed away the trickling blood.

"He's been hit," declared Randy. "See the lump on the back of his head,"

and he pointed it out.

Presently d.i.c.k Rover opened his eyes and stared vacantly at the anxious lads.

"What--what--what happened to me?" he stammered and gave a gasp.

"Who--who knocked me down?"

"That we don't know, Dad," answered Jack, and he was glad to realize that his parent was coming to his senses. "Gee! I was afraid you had been killed."

The four boys raised d.i.c.k Rover up and laid him on one of the cots. They had a little first-aid kit with them, and from this they got some plaster with which they bound up the small cut.

It was some time before d.i.c.k Rover felt able to tell his story. In the meanwhile Fred dashed downstairs for some hot water, which was applied to the lump on the sufferer's head.

"I guess I'll get over it," said Jack's father, with a wan smile. "But they certainly did give it to me." Then he gave a sudden start. "What about my papers? Are they safe?"

The boys looked around, but saw no papers of any kind in the room.

"I had them in my bag. I brought them in here to look them over, and to do some writing at the table."

"Well, there's no bag here now, or papers either," announced Randy.

"Then those rascals must have taken them! That was probably why they knocked me down. They wanted to rob me."

"But who attacked you, Dad?" questioned Jack.

"That I don't know, Son. I was seated at the table with the open bag beside me, and was looking over some of the doc.u.ments I had brought from the safe deposit vault in Wichita Falls when I heard a noise behind me near the door. I was just about to get up to see what it meant, when all of a sudden I received a terrible crack on the back of the head. I turned around, and then somebody aimed another blow at me that caught me on the left temple. Then everything seemed to dance before my eyes, and I guess I must have gone down in a heap on the floor. And that's all I knew until I found you supporting me and bathing my forehead."

"It must have been those oil-well fellows!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Fred.

"I think I see a light!" almost shouted Jack. "Nappy and Slugger were in this plot. They made us go away out of town just so we wouldn't be here with my dad when the other fellows attacked him!"

"I guess you're right," answered Randy.

"What's this you are saying?" questioned d.i.c.k Rover, rather feebly.

In a few words the boys explained the trick Nappy Martell and Slugger Brown had played on them.

"Yes, I guess you are right. It must have been a part of the game," said Jack's father. "And are you sure my bag and everything that was in it are gone?"

"Yes, there isn't a single paper in this room," answered Jack. "And when we came up we found the door to your room locked, so it isn't likely they are there."

"They must have dug out the minute they knocked me over and got the papers," answered d.i.c.k Rover. "Probably they were afraid you or somebody else might come up and catch them at their dastardly work. As it is, it is queer somebody didn't see them."

"There happens to be no one down in the office but the young clerk, and he's half asleep," answered Randy. "Besides that, those fellows may have come in by the back way. Did you catch sight of them at all?"

"I can't say that I did, Randy. The first blow dazed me, and while I remember something of two or three forms, it is all so vague that it amounts to nothing. I rather think, however, that there were at least three men."

"And if there were, I'll bet a new hat those men were Davenport, Tate, and Jackson," returned Jack firmly.

"You may be right, Son. But you know what they say in court: It is one thing to know the truth, and quite another to be able to prove it."

"But who would want to steal those papers if not Davenport and his crowd?" questioned Randy. And then he added hurriedly: "Did they rob you of anything else, Uncle d.i.c.k?"

"I don't think so." d.i.c.k Rover felt in his pockets. "No, my money and watch and my diamond ring are all safe. If they had been ordinary thieves they would certainly have taken everything of value."

"Our baggage doesn't seem to be disturbed," said Andy, who was looking around. "I guess you are right--they were after those doc.u.ments and nothing else."

There was a pause, and suddenly the boys saw a queer smile pa.s.s over d.i.c.k Rover's face, and then he uttered a peculiar whistle.

"What is it, Dad?" said Jack wonderingly. He knew that his father had a habit of whistling in that fashion when something struck him as funny.

"I was just thinking that perhaps those fellows who robbed me had taken a white elephant off my hands," returned d.i.c.k Rover.

"Why, what do you mean by white elephant?" questioned Andy.

"I mean that maybe they are fighting tooth and nail to get possession of something which I might be only too glad to give them for nothing."

"Oh, Dad, are you talking about the Lorimer Spell claim?" questioned Jack.

"Yes."

"But I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. But maybe you will after I've told my story. As you know, I went to Wichita Falls mainly to get the doc.u.ments which Lorimer Spell had stored away in the safe deposit vault of a bank there.

Well, I got the doc.u.ments, and in looking them over found that while Lorimer Spell's claim to the land seemed to be fairly well established, still there was something of a cloud to the t.i.tle--the cloud of which Carson Davenport and his crowd are taking advantage. But more than that, I found that a firm of oil experts named Fitch and Lunberry had gone over the property both for Spell and for an oil promoter who had thought to put some money into operations there. So then I called on the firm and had a long talk with Mr. Fitch."

"And what did Mr. Fitch have to say about the land?" asked Jack quickly.

"He was very frank to say that in his opinion there was no oil of any kind on the claim. He told me that he knew Lorimer Spell very well, and that while Spell was all right in the main, he had been daffy on the subject of oil, so much so that it had just about turned the poor fellow's brain until he imagined that there was fabulous wealth in oil on every acre he possessed. Mr. Fitch got down to facts and figures, and showed me all of his deductions, and he said that it was his honest opinion that any money spent on the Lorimer Spell claim would be utterly wasted."