did not trace the two signatures. Look! You cansee that just as plainly as I can."
Hill took the letter in one hand and the photograph in the other,squinted up his cross eyes, and tried to institute comparisons.
"The signature ain't the same," he finally agreed, "and that's a fact."
"Which proves that the letter's a forgery."
"I'm not a-sayin' that, Clancy. It can't be that dad wrote what's on theback o' the picter."
"You have always thought he did the writing on the back of thephotograph, haven't you?"
"Then you're thinking he didn't, now, so you can believe the letter'sgenuine."
"Well, what of it? I'd a heap rather pin my faith to the writin' in theletter than to what's on the photograft."
Clancy saw that argument was useless. Hill was completely carried awaywith the letter, for it steered him along the line of least resistanceright into the haven of his happiest desires. He believed in that letterbecause he wanted to believe in it, and for no other earthly reason.
"Then," said the motor wizard quietly, "you think you'll go to San Diegoand not to Catalina Island?"
"What's the use o' wastin' time on Catalina when that letter tells usright where to go?" demanded Hill. "You're goin' with me, ain't you?"
"Not if you're going right away, Hiram. I just reached Los Angeles aftera long ride from Phoenix, and I'm not going to hit the iron trail againbefore I have a chance to get the cinders out of my eyes and the dustoff my face. If you're going to San Diego this afternoon, or to-night,you'll go alone."
"You don't take any stock in this letter at all, huh?"
"No."
"Who do you think wrote it if it wasn't my lost dad?"
"I don't know who wrote it,"
"Well," grumbled Hiram, "I won't start for San Diego afore to-morrow. Iwant you to be along, and I'm waitin' over so'st to have you. S'pose wego and eat? Registered yet?"
"I'll register now," said Clancy, "and then we'll sit in at the chucktable and have dinner."
He went over to the desk alone, put down his name, and then wrote out atelegram. He handed it to a boy along with some money, and asked thatthe message be put on the wires as soon as possible. After that he wentto his room, got the dust and cinders off his face and out of his hair,joined Hill, and the two went into the dining room together.
Clancy was determined to make the most of his "Happy Trail," anddirectly after dinner proposed that he and Hill should spend theafternoon at one of the beaches. Hill, who was all wrapped up in SanDiego, now that he had received that supposed letter from his father,consented reluctantly. The two boarded an electric car and went toVenice.
There was a big crowd at this particular beach. Hill, in spite of thefact that he professed to believe his father was in San Diego, wasscanning every face he passed for the beetling brow, retreating chin,Roman nose, and squint eye. He acted so wild and unreasonable thatClancy was tempted to believe he had gone daffy on the subject of hislost father.
He would run up to a man with a prominent nose, grab him by theshoulders, and study his face in a search for the other specifications.Once he was knocked down, and another time he was nearly arrested whenan irate man, whom he had stopped to investigate, raised a shout for apoliceman.
"Look here, Hiram," remonstrated the motor wizard, drawing histow-headed friend apart, "if you're convinced your father is in SanDiego, what the deuce are you expecting to see him here in Venice for?"
"I got the habit of lookin'," answered Hill lamely, "and seems like Ican't give it up."
"Well, you've got to give it up for the rest of to-day or you and I willseparate here and now. You act as though you had just escaped from alunatic asylum, and when people see me they are apt to think there aretwo of us."
They went out on the pleasure pier, bought post cards to send to theirfriends, had their pictures taken on a couple of burros, and finally gotinto bathing suits and went into the surf. Hill at last forgot about hislost parent and let himself loose for a good time.
Both he and Clancy enjoyed themselves to the limit. Refreshed by theirplunge in the ocean, they went into a restaurant, and did ample justiceto a splendid, meal. After that they started back to Los Angeles.
"This here has been a great afternoon, Clancy!" sighed Hiram, sinkingback in the car seat and showing his weariness. "We haven't done muchtoward runnin' out the trail, but we can begin on that again to-morrow."
"I'm running out my own trail, Hiram," laughed Clancy.
"Eh?" returned Hill blankly.
The motor wizard did not explain. His companion, he knew, would not haveunderstood him if he had explained. But Clancy realized that he was morecontented in mind than he had been at any time during the last twoweeks. Tired though he was, it was astonishing how much better he felt.
"New sights and new scenes," thought Clancy, "do a lot to put new lifeinto a fellow. I'm beginning to wish I had taken this Happy Trail a longtime ago."
It was ten o'clock when they walked into the lobby of the Renfrew House.As they stopped at the counter to get the keys to their rooms, Clancyasked the clerk if there was a telegram for him. The clerk thumbed over,a bunch of messages and tossed out one.
"Owen Clancy?" he queried. "There you are."
"I hope it ain't Wynn wirin' you to come back," remarked Hill, withsudden foreboding.
"It isn't from Wynn," said Clancy; "I know that before I open it. I'llbet something handsome it's from the chief of police at San Diego."
"The chief of police? What's he wiring you for?"
"Come over here, Hiram, and I'll explain."
Clancy led his companion to a couple of chairs.
"Now," said he, after, they had seated themselves, "we're about todecide whether we're going to Catalina Island, in the morning, or to SanDiego."
"That's already decided!" asserted Hill. "Whatever makes you think itain't?"
"Look at that letter you received at noon, Hiram," went on Clancy. "Youwere asked to come to eighteen-twenty 'Q' Street, weren't you?"
"Yes," Hiram answered, consulting the letter.
"Well," explained Clancy, "I wired the chief of police at San Diego,asking him who lives at that number in Q Street. If this reply to mymessage says that Upton Hill lives at that address, then I'llcongratulate you, and we will go on together to, San Diego in themorning.
"Sure!"
"But if the message says that some one else lives at the address, it'sproof positive that your letter was a fake, and that going to San Diegois worse than a waste of time, eh?"
"Let's see what the message says," parried Hill.
Clancy opened it, removed the folded yellow sheet, opened it out, and heand Hill read the following:
"OWEN CLANCY, Renfrew House, Los Angeles: No such street as 'Q' in thecity. No such man as Upton Hill in directory. Never heard of him. PENNYPACKER, Chief of Police."
"What do you think of that?" asked Clancy.
"I reckon your judgment is good, Clancy," answered the baffled Hill. "Ifit wasn't, I'd not have asked you to help me run out this trail."
"Then we'll cut out San Diego and go to Catalina?"
"What's the use o' goin' to San Diego; lookin' for a street they haven'tgot in the town? Of course we'll try the island--nothin' else for us todo."
CHAPTER VI.
THE GLASS-BOTTOM BOAT.
The distance from the mainland to the island of Catalina is only abouttwenty miles, and the steamer from San Pedro makes the trip in somethinglike two hours and a half.
At ten o'clock in the morning Clancy and Hill went aboard, atten-fifteen the boat got under way, and promptly at ten-seventeen Hirambecame seasick. There wasn't anything halfway about it, either, he wassick all through and all over. For an hour he was afraid he was going todie, and for an hour and a half he was afraid he wasn't.
Clancy was so busy with Hill that he had no time to enjoy the trip. Assoon as the boat tied up at the Avalon pier and the gangplank was runout, Hill galloped ashore, and sank down on the dock
with a groan ofthanksgiving. Clancy hurried after him, picked him up, and supported himto solid earth.
"I thought you were a better sailor than that, Hiram," chuckled Clancy.
"Me--a sailor?" whimpered Hill. "Say, it always makes my stomach do ahornpipe just to look at a picture of the sea. I can't cross a creek ona bridge
Owen Clancy's Happy Trail; Or, The Motor Wizard in California Page 6
