CHAPTER XVIII
THEROCKETRACES THESPEEDAWAY
Lanky Wallace made a move as if would leap out and throttle the fellow for making such an accusation.
Frank’s arm restrained him, though, and the chief of police quickly signaled for all of them to be quiet.
“Marmette, you’re not telling the truth. That young fellow knew nothing about this. If he had known as much as you say, he would have had the police on us by this time.”
The leader of the little gang spoke menacingly to the prisoner. There was no answer from Jed Marmette, and he continued:
“You’ve hidden that box somewhere. No use to lie out of it. Come across, or you go down in the river. No more foolishness!”
These were tense moments. Frank Allen wondered why the chief did not step forward and take command of the situation, for he was surely backed by a crowd large enough to take these three prisoners.
What had Jed Marmette done with the jewels? Was it possible that he had seen the boys or was this merely a ruse which had risen suddenly in his mind?
“I tell you those young fellows were up here in their boat—I seen ’em! And there were five of them—too many for me to stop. They went into the barn, two of them, while the other three watched outside. And they got away with the box. I seen ’em!”
Frank was startled by the things this fellow Marmette was telling. Then, he had really seen them! He had known they were there—had seen them go into the barn—else how would he have known they were five?
What would the chief think now? But what was the use of worrying about it? Frank knew where the jewels were buried, under the grape arbor, and it would be an easy matter to recover the metal box just as soon as these fellows were taken prisoner.
“You’re lying, Marmette! You can’t pull that stuff on us. We’ll put him aboard, fellows, and throw him in. Get that other rope ready. Is everything ready to go?”
The leader was preparing to settle matters for Jed Marmette.
“Throw up your hands—all of you!”
Into the small circle cast by the lantern’s light stepped the chief of police, his revolver drawn. The other police were directly behind him, all with drawn weapons. It had been done so quickly that even Frank, behind them, did not realize that the chief had given his signal to act.
The four conspirators turned at the sound of the voice. The fellow with the lantern made a move toward the boat, still holding the light.
“Halt! Stand where you are or I’ll fire!” commanded Chief Berry. The fellow stood still. “Now, get your hands up, all of you!”
This command was obeyed.
“Boys, while I keep them covered, you take the ropes and tie them. Slip the handcuffs on those two big fellows, and tie the one with the lantern. Hang the lantern where we can have light.” The chief was in full control of the situation.
“Chief,” whispered Frank while the men performed their duties. “Let us four go up there and get the box of jewels. I know where they are buried—in the grape arbor!”
“Sure,” the chief acquiesced in the scheme. “Take the boys and go along. Here is a box of matches and here is a flashlight,” and he slipped a long cylinder out of his pocket, handing it to Frank.
Immediately the four boys started along the trail leading to the barn, through the barnyard, andthence up toward the grape arbor by the dilapidated old farmhouse. The flashlight helped them on the way.
Not a word passed between the boys as they filed, Indian fashion, through the long weeds. It was only when they reached the grape arbor that anything was said. It was Frank who spoke:
“I wonder why Marmette tried to pull such a stunt as that? Yet, of course he didn’t know we were standing there listening to all of it.”
“Just the same, Frank,” Lanky argued the matter, “if we had not been there his story would not have gotten him anywhere. That fellow didn’t believe it—wasn’t he going to drown Jed?”
At this moment they were at the entrance to the grape arbor. Frank flashed the light under the dark place and saw that the stone was still in place!
Frank started the work post haste.
“Paul, you and Ralph pull that flagstone aside. There is a new hole right there and the box is in there.”
The two boys heartily grabbed the stone and laid it aside. One of them stooped and started pulling aside the dirt with his hands, but Frank halted him.
“You can’t get it away quickly enough that way. The hole is deep. Lanky, find a spade or a stick of wood.”
In only a moment or two Lanky Wallace founda sharp stick that could be used for the purpose, and went at the work of uncovering the metal box with a willing vim.
Pound after pound of the soft earth came out of the hole, but there was no evidence of the box containing the jewels.
Frank was becoming nervous with the excitement of this search, and, particularly, because there was as yet no indication of success.
“Push the stick straight down to see how far it goes before it strikes the box!” he hoarsely called to the boys.
Lanky sent the stick downward, then pushed on it with his foot, but, despite the stick’s length of about a foot and one-half, it struck nothing to impede its progress.
“That box isn’t there, fellows!” said Frank. “I know the hole was not that deep. Jed Marmette took it out and has hidden it somewhere else!”
Just now it came forcibly home to Frank Allen that the boys had been seen by Jed Marmette. Of course, he knew they had not taken the jewels, as well as Marmette knew it, but Marmette had used this fact as his excuse for not having the jewels, and, unthoughtedly, unknowingly, he had evidenced to Frank that, having seen the five boys on the place and having feared they would come back or send back to get the metal box, he had dug it up andplaced it in some other spot after they had gone.
The three boys looked askance at Frank.
“What’ll we do?” he took the question from their lips before they had done so. “We’ll go into the house and see what evidences there are there of Jed’s having placed it somewhere around inside.”
With this all four of them trooped into the small farmhouse, and their nostrils were struck by the odors of dankness, of old coffee, of burned grease, showing that this ill-kept man did not permit the fresh air that nature so freely gave to every living being to pass through the house.
The beams of the flashlight darted here and there, and Frank handed his supply of matches to Lanky to use so that they could get a better light. In a few seconds Paul saw an oil-lamp, which was immediately lighted, and with this as an aid they stood at the center of the back room and carefully studied the general features.
Nothing in this room gave the boys any indication of a hiding place, and Frank led the way, holding the lamp, into the next room, a combination of bedroom and general living room. Two broken chairs, a wobbly old table, a box used for a washstand or dresser and a cot were the only pieces of furniture.
All four of the boys stood, rather breathless, at the doorway and peered in.
“What’s that?” Frank nodded his head towardthe broad, old-fashioned fireplace. “Go over there and see what those ashes are. It looks to me like burned string lying there.”
Lanky was the first to get there. He knelt and studied the hearth closely, not disturbing anything with his hands.
“This is a piece of burned string, Frank,” he said, “and it looks as if this is the ash of a piece of paper. Looks to me as if he had burned the wrapper around the box.”
“Yep, look here!” It was Paul Bird who had found something else. “Here is a little fresh earth, yellow, too!”
The lamp was brought close, and all four of the boys on their knees looked carefully and closely at the little specks of brown or yellow on the floor. There was no mistaking it—it was damp earth from outside under the grape arbor!
“I don’t think that this was brought in on his feet,” ventured Ralph West, “for I don’t see any heel print right here, and the heel would have brought it in.”
For a long minute the four boys looked here and there along the floor, at the hearth, at the fresh particles of earth, and at each other.
“Let us go through everything in this room,” said Frank decisively. “I believe he has unwrapped the box, burned the paper and string, and has hidden thebox somewhere in the house, so that he could guard it more closely.”
With this the boys, having set the lamp on one of the wooden boxes, started a search of the room. Under the cot, behind the boxes, back of the clothes hanging on the hooks along the wall opposite the fireplace, they looked closely for a metal box. But to no avail. Several minutes were passed in this search.
From here the search spread into the kitchen, or combination kitchen and dining room. Into all sorts of boxes and tin cans and cardboard containers they went, finding particles of food in all these places. A looking glass on one wall was brought down for fear the jewel-box might rest behind it.
The search was getting nowhere, excepting failure.
“Let’s look in the stove,” said Lanky Wallace, as he reached for the lid-lifter and started to raise part of the top.
“That gives me an idea!” cried Frank, wheeling on his heel and looking toward the bedroom which was now dark.
Grabbing up the lantern he strode into that room, the other boys directly and very breathlessly behind him. What kind of idea had their leader now? They instinctively felt it was a good one, and probably a winner—but what was it?
“That box was black. All such document boxes are black—they are made of thin iron and are japanned, as they call it.”
Frank was starting the disclosure of his idea by setting down a premise on which to work logically to his conclusion.
“Now, if it is black, then the logical place to hide it is where everything else is black. Is that right?”
“Up the flue!” exclaimed Lanky Wallace happily.
Before Frank could answer, before he could turn to make an investigation, the lean lad had dived past him to the fireplace, had stooped to the hearth, and a long arm was reaching far up the flue—on to the ledge which is formed at the top of all fireplaces, and out of there, covered with soot, bringing down a perfect storm of the black, sifting, fine powder, he brought a metal box!
He shook it. There was no doubt. It was black—it was metal—and it contained a great many pieces of things which seemed to be small.
Frank took it and looked at the lock. It was locked, he ascertained. Was this the thing they wanted? Every circumstantial indication pointed to an affirmative. But he thought they should be sure, rather than take back a box full of something else than jewels.
He remembered seeing an old case-knife on the kitchen table, and one of the boys brought it quickly.
With this they pried open the top, tearing the lock loose, and opened the cover. There, exposed to their gaze in the dim yellow glow of the oil-lamp, lay diamonds, sapphires, rings, necklaces, all sorts and kinds of jewels and fancy pieces of women’s jeweled wear! The loot from the Parsons’ safe!
They had expected this—yet they gasped in surprise and delight.
“Come on, fellows. We’ve got what Jed Marmette stole from his thieving friends, and we’ve found the jewels for Mrs. Parsons. This is all too good to be true! Let’s get back to the chief.”
Frank took the box, tucked it under his arm, and indicated that they should turn out the oil-lamp while he switched on his flashlight.
Out of the house they trooped, a happy crowd of boys, all but the end of the mystery solved—in fact, the mystery itself was solved, the trial and conviction of these thieves being the only thing left.
The flashlight darted hither and yon as the four boys found the trail and started for the barnyard.
Bang! A shot rent the air just as they got to the barn. It came from the direction of the crowd on the river bank!
All was quiet for a moment, then they heard the call of one man.
“Halt! Halt, or I’ll kill!”
Another crack of a weapon tore through the air.
The boys stopped dead in their tracks at the first shot, as they heard the command to halt. But started on a wild run for the river bank when the second shot was fired.
Crashing and breaking through the weeds and brush, they came to the little cleared place, where they saw the entire party looking toward the river.
The chief was just taking aim to fire again. The motor boat was already out from shore, its motor had started, and the occupant was turning it downstream!
“What’s the matter? Who is it?” cried Frank.
“It’s Fred Cunningham! He was the third one. He got away and is on that motor boat!”