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Tom Swift Among the Diamond Makers

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below. At other times there were rain storms, which likewise prevented a view. Mr. Parker was on the lookout for his predicted mountain landslide, but it did not occur, and he was much disappointed. "It's queer I can't pick out that landmark," said Mr. Jenks after two days of weary searching, when their eyes were strained from long peering through telescopes. "I'm sure it was around Indian Ridge, yet we've covered almost all the ground in this neighborhood, and I haven't had a glimpse of it." "Perhaps it was destroyed in a landslide, or some cataclysm of nature," suggested Mr. Parker. "That is very possible." "If that's the case we're going to have a hard time to locate the cave of the diamond makers," answered Mr. Jenks, "but I hope it isn't so." They continued the search for another day, and then Tom, as they sat in the comfortable cabin of the airship that night, hovering almost motionless (for the motor had been shut down) made a proposition. "Why not descend in some secluded place," he suggested, "and wander around on foot, making inquiries of the miners. They may know where the stone head is, or they may even know about Phantom Mountain." "Good idea," spoke Mr. Jenks. "We'll do it." Accordingly, the next morning, the Red Cloud was lowered in a good but lonely landing place, and securely moored. It was in a valley, well screened from observation, and the craft was not likely to be seen, but, to guard against any damage being done to it by passing hunters or miners, Mr. Parker and Mr. Damon agreed to remain on guard in it, while Tom and Mr. Jenks spent a day or two traveling around, making inquiries. The young inventor and his companion proceeded on foot to a small settlement, where they hired horses on which to make their way about. They were to be gone two days, and in that time they hoped to get on the right trail. CHAPTER XII - THE GREAT STONE HEAD It was a wild and desolate country in which Tom Swift and Mr. Jenks were traveling. Villages were far apart, and they were at best but small settlements. In their journeys from place to place they met few travelers. But of these few they made cautious inquiries as to the location of Phantom Mountain, or the landmark known as the great stone head. Prospectors, miners and hunters, whom they asked, shook their heads. "I've heard of Phantom Mountain," said one grizzled miner, "but I couldn't say where it is. Maybe it's only a fish story--the place may not even exist." "Oh, it does, for I've been there!" exclaimed Mr. Jenks. "Then why don't you go back to it?" asked the miner. "Because I can't locate it again," was the reply. "Humph! Mighty queer if you've seen a place once, and can't get to it again," and the man looked as if he thought there was something strange about Tom and his companion. Mr. Jenks did not want to say that he had been taken to the mountain blindfolded, for that would have caused too much talk. "I think if we spent to-night in a place where the miners congregate, listened to their talk, and put a few casual questions to them, more as if we were only asking out of idle curiosity, we might learn something," suggested Tom. "Very well, we'll try that scheme." Accordingly, after they had left the suspicious miner the two proceeded to a small milling town, not far from Indian Ridge. There they engaged rooms for the night at the only hotel, and, after supper they sat around the combined dance hall and gambling place. There were wild, rough scenes, which were distasteful to Tom, and to Mr. Jenks, but they felt that this was their only chance to get on the right trail, and so they stayed. As strangers in a western mining settlement they were made roughly welcome, and in response to their inquiries about the country, they were told many tales, some of which were evidently gotten up for the benefit of the "tenderfeet." "Is there a place around here called Phantom Mountain?" asked Tom, at length, as quietly as he could. "Never heard of it, stranger," replied a miner who had done most of the talking. "I never heard of it, and what Bill Slatterly don't know ain't worth knowin'. I'm Bill Slatterly," he added, lest there be some doubt on that score. "Isn't there some sort of a landmark around here shaped like a great stone head?" went on Tom, after some unimportant questions. "Seems to me I've heard of that." "Nary a one," answered Mr. Slatterly. "No stone heads, and no Phantom Mountains--nary a one. "Who says there ain't no Phantom Mountains?" demanded an elderly miner, who had been dozing in one corner of the room, but who was awakened by Slatterly's loud voice. "Who says so?" "I do," answered the one who claimed to know everything. "Then you're wrong!" Tom's heart commenced beating faster than usual. "Do you mean to say you've seen Phantom Mountain, Jed Nugg?" demanded Slatterly. "No, I ain't exactly seen it, an' I don't want to, but there is such a place, about sixty mile from here. Folks says it's haunted, and them sort of places I steer clear from." "Can you tell me about it?" asked Mr. Jenks. eagerly. "I am interested in such things." "I can't tell you much about it," was the reply, "and I wouldn't git too interested, if I was you. It might not be healthy. All I know is that one time my partner and I were in hard luck. We got grub-staked, and went out prospectin'. We strayed into a wild part of the country about sixty mile from here, and one night we camped on a mountain--a wild, desolate place it was too." The miner stopped, and began leisurely filling his pipe. "Well?" asked Tom, trying not to let his voice sound too eager. "Well, that was Phantom Mountain." The miner seemed to have finished his story. "Is that all?" asked Mr. Jenks. "How did you know it was Phantom Mountain?" "'Cause we seen the ghost--my partner and I--that's why!" exclaimed the man, puffing on his pipe. "As I said, we was campin' there, and 'long about midnight we seen somethin' tall and white, and all shimmerin', with a sort of yellow fire, slidin' down the side of the mountain It made straight for our camp." "Huh! Guess you run, didn't you, Jed?" asked Bill Slatterly. "Course we did. You'd a run too, if you seen a ghost comm' at you, an' firm' a gun." "Ghosts can't fire guns!" declared Bill. "I guess you dreamed

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