That was the worst morning I ever spent. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. But one thing I was sure of, and that was that I wasn’t going to break my word no matter what happened. Because what’s the use of having any law one if it doesn’t mean what it says?
I kept wishing that those men would hurry up and come so the thing would be over with. I went out and sat on the steps of our garage and talked with James; he’s our chauffeur. And all the while I kept looking off down the road to see if those men were coming. I felt awful funny. No matter what I did I couldn’t stick to it. I felt kind of the same way as I feel just before examinations in school. I started picking dandelions on the lawn just so as to keep busy. Then I went around to the porch and sat in the swing seat and tried to read, but I couldn’t.
After a while I saw a car coming up the hill and I knew it was the police car. I guess there wasn’t much left of Mr. Slausen’s car. I saw Chief O’Day in the car—I could tell him on account of his uniform—and there were several others, too. Now that I saw them I wasn’t so nervous as I was before, because I knew it would soon be over with.
When they got out I saw there were five people—Chief O’Day, Mr. Slausen, another man, Westy and his father. I was kind of nervous when I saw them coming up the gravel walk, but, anyway, it kind of helped me to feel sure of myself.
Chief O’Day said, “Well, sir, your father home?”
I gave one look at Westy and then I didn’t feel afraid any more at all. I knew he thought the same as I did, and I said to myself that no matter what happened we’d stick together.
My father took us all in the library and I stood in front of the mantelpiece.
Chief O’Day said, “Mr. Blakeley, your boy and this other boy seem to be mixed up in the fire that destroyed Mr. Slausen’s shop last night.”
My father just said, “Indeed?”
The chief said, “These two boys were seen climbing out of a window of the shop after dark last night. They were anxious to have the shop out of their way——”
My father just said, “Oh, yes, I know all about that. We’d like to have a good many things out of our way. Let us get down to facts. Who saw these boys? That’s the point.”
Mr. Slausen said, “This young man is a friend of mine, Mr. Blakeley. He has worked for me. His name is Conroy. He saw your boy and this other youngster climb out of the side window of my place last night. This other youngster refuses to say anything.”
The chief said, “Of course you realize these boys have to give an account of themselves, Mr. Blakeley. Maybe this young fellow here is mistaken about seeing them, but——”
“He isn’t mistaken,” I said. I could just hear my own voice as if I was speaking all alone in the world, and I was awful nervous. “Westy and I climbed out of that window after dark last night, but we didn’t set fire to the place and we never thought about such a thing.”
“You were there?” my father said. Gee, he seemed to be all flustered. “What do you mean? You mean you were in Mr. Slausen’s shop after the place had been closed up and came out through a side window?”
I just said, “Yes, sir.”
For about half a minute nobody spoke at all, only Mr. Slausen kept drumming with his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Then the chief said, “What were you doing there?”
“I won’t tell you,” I said.
My father said, very sober like, “What do you mean, Roy? You won’t tell? This is a very serious matter. Tell Mr. O’Day what you went there for.”
I didn’t say anything; I just stood there.
My father just said, very anxious, “Well?”
The chief said, “You don’t want to rub up against the law, my boy.”
I said, “If you think you can scare me, you can’t. There are different laws. Maybe there are some that you don’t know anything about——”
Just then I heard footsteps on the porch and then the doorbell rang.
That was Mr. Ellsworth, our scoutmaster. I guess he had heard all about it. I guess the whole town knew about it by that time. Trust them for that. He just sat down very quietly and listened. It made me feel good to see him there.
My father said, “I suppose you know about this, Mr. Ellsworth?”
Mr. Ellsworth said, “Why, yes, in a general way.”
“You knew the boys were at the garage?” my father asked him.
He said, “N—no, I didn’t know that. Have they found out how the fire started?”
“Started?” Mr. Slausen said, good and loud. “Can’t you see how it started? You’re the instigator of this car moving business, I suppose?”
Mr. Ellsworth said, awful funny, “Yes, I’m the evil genius.”
“And I understand fires are part of this scout rigmarole,” Mr. Slausen said.
“Yes, indeed,” Mr. Ellsworth said; “we’re all strong for the campfire. Had your place insured, I suppose, Mr. Slausen?”
“Lucky I did,” he said.
“We just want to give these lads a chance to explain their presence there,” Chief O’Day said.
Mr. Ellsworth just said, “Oh, I see.”
I just looked straight at Mr. Ellsworth and I said, “I can’t tell, Mr. Ellsworth, on account of a scout law. If Westy wants to tell, let him do it.”
“Thanks. Nothing doing,” said Westy.
“What is the law, Roy?” Mr. Ellsworth asked me, very kind and nice.
I said, “It’s the one about a scout’s honor being trusted.”
My father was good and mad. He said, “I want to know all about this. I want to know what you boys were doing at Mr. Slausen’s shop, climbing out of the window there after dark. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
I noticed that Westy’s father didn’t say anything, he just kept looking at Mr. Ellsworth. I didn’t say anything. Neither did Westy. I could hear the big clock in the hall ticking.
“You boys don’t want to go down to the station, do you?” the chief asked us.
“I should worry,” I said. “We didn’t set fire to the shop, I know that, and we can’t tell you why we were there on account of a reason. What’s the use of having scout laws if we don’t pay any attention to them?”
My father started to speak, but Mr. Ellsworth said, “Just a minute. I can’t stand between you gentlemen and these boys, but so far as I am concerned I will not urge either of them to say anything more just now. I just wish to have it understood that I take no part in this business. If these boys were mine I would not require them to tell anything—just at present. There are some other things to be explained first.
“It is one of our scout laws that scouts must obey their parents. So much for that. It is up to you gentlemen. But if one scout law is to be obeyed, of course the others must be obeyed, too. These boys are in my troop. I have never known either one of them to lie. They seem to think their honor is involved. If you gentlemen, their fathers, insist on their talking, I hope they will obey their parents. But I ask you to think twice before you insist. I know these boys.”
“Do you think I want my son arrested?” my father said.
“A great many innocent people have been arrested before now, Mr. Blakeley. I’m not thinking of that. They put Columbus in chains, you know,” Mr. Ellsworth said, kind of laughing.
Just then Mr. Martin (that’s Westy’s father) spoke up. He said, “I think I’ll stand with my boy and Mr. Ellsworth in this matter. If you men are here to press the matter I’m here to see it through. I think perhaps we’ll all be the gainers, my friend Mr. Slausen included, if we respect these boys’ wishes. What next, Chief? Shall we all go down to the station? That was a very good point you made, Mr. Ellsworth, about putting Columbus in chains. Be careful not to say a word, Westy, my boy. Are you going down to the station with us, Mr. Blakeley?”
Gee whiz, I don’t know what I would have done if my father had insisted on my telling all about it. What wouldyouhave done? If there are two scout laws and you have to break one in order to obey the other, what can you do about it? There’s a sticker for you.
But, anyway, one good thing, my father has a lot of respect for Mr. Ellsworth. And when he saw how Mr. Ellsworth and Mr. Martin stood, oh, boy, he was with us. But, gee whiz, I felt sorry for my mother on account of her having a convict for a son. She cried and hugged me and everything when we started away, and my sister made a big fuss, too. That was because I had never been a convict before.
Now I’ll tell you what I think. I don’t how much Mr. Ellsworth knew, and I don’t know how much Mr. Martin knew, but they knew something about Charlie Slausen. I mean they knew what kind of a fellow he was. Maybe they thought he had something to do with the fire, and maybe they thought the facts would come out. I don’t know what they thought. All I know is what happened.
Down at the station we were held for a hearing the next day. They didn’t keep us there, but they patrolled us or paroled us or whatever you call it, in the custody of our parents. We agreed that we wouldn’t run away. Gee whiz, why should we run away? There’s plenty of fun in Bridgeboro.
As soon as Westy and I were alone together I said, “What are we going to do? We have to tell when the case comes up. We can’t refuse to tell the judge what we were there for.”
He said, “Maybe it would be all right for us to say we saw Charlie Slausen there. We needn’t say what we went there for.”
“Then they’ll sayheset fire to the place,” I said, “and I don’t believe he did. Just because everybody always thinks the worst about him, that isn’t saying that he’d do a thing like that, he’s always needing money, that fellow is, and right away they’ll say he started the fire maybe to get the insurance on his car.”
“He doesn’t own it,” Westy said.
“Maybe he does,” I told him. “How doweknow? I’m not going to tell anybody he was there unless I have to. Let them find it out.”
“We’ll have to tell everything to-morrow,” Westy said.
I said, “I’m not thinking of to-morrow. I’m thinking of to-day. If we have to tell he was there, it will look bad for him. If he tells himself it won’t look so bad.”
Westy said, “A tall chance we stand of getting him to tell.”
I said, “Well, if they force it out of us it will look bad for him.”
“How do you think the fire started?” Westy asked me.
“How do I know?” I said. “Maybe he dropped a match or something. But he isn’t so bad that he’d burn the place down on purpose, I know that. I’d like to know what your father and Mr. Ellsworth think. I bet they think he did it. I bet the reason they were willing for us not to talk to-day was because they think that if nobody says anything yet, they can prove something against him. Hey? I bet they’ve got some plans for to-morrow.”
“What are we going to do this afternoon?” Westy wanted to know.
“I’m going to help clear away the stuff,” I told him.
“Good idea,” he said. “Let’s round up all the troop.”
We called up most of the fellows and we went to see those who didn’t have ’phones, and we fixed it up to all go up to Willow Place in the afternoon and help. That was some afternoon. The wreckage of the shop was all over the sidewalk and the place looked like Thanksgiving dinner when Pee-wee Harris gets through with it. We started helping the men to haul boards and stuff, and parts of cars, away from the walk, and raking out the middle of the streets so as not to leave any nails and broken window glass for autos to run over. We might better be doing that than be out hiking in the woods, that’s what I told them.
About the middle of the afternoon Charlie Slausen came over. He seemed awful worried, kind of. He called Westy and me aside and asked us if we had told anybody about the night before.
I said, “No, we haven’t. We got away with it so far, lucky for us, but when the judge starts asking us questions to-morrow, we’ll have to tell. We can’t lie to him. If they ask us if we saw anybody at the shop we’ll have to say we did, and they can make us tell everything that happened if they want to.”
He said, “You didn’t tell them anything about seeing me?”
“No,” I told him, “because I thought they’d start thinking you set fire to the place and we know you didn’t.”
“My father thinks you did,” he said.
“Let him think so,” I told him; “we should worry. All I’m afraid of is that they’ll make us tell about meeting you here, and then they’ll say it’s funny you didn’t come out right away after the fire and say so yourself. We’ve got things fixed till to-morrow, but everything will come out then.”
He said, “You kids are a couple of bully little scouts. Come over here; I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t mind,” I said.
The rest of the scouts in the troop were working away, getting the street cleaned, and I guess they didn’t notice us. We went back across the field to our old railroad car, and I said, “Come ahead in; nobody’ll bother us in here.”
It smelled kind of smoky inside, I suppose on account of the fire. One of the doors was open so the smoke that blew in hadn’t gone out. It was kind of dusty and dingy, too. The old plush seats were all full of dust. But, anyway, we didn’t care, because it was our car and we liked it better than a Pullman car. It seemed awful quiet and nice in there; you know how it seems on Sunday afternoons.
Charlie said, “You’ve got it mighty nice in here.”
“This car has caused us a lot of worry and trouble,” Westy said. “But things will be all right when we get it down by the river.”
“You can move it across Willow Place all right now,” Charlie said. “All you need is power.”
“You leave that to us,” I told him. “The engineer on the milk train is a good friend of ours. But, anyway, we’re not thinking about the car now.”
He said, “You boys are aces up.”
“We’ve done the best we could so far,” I told him. “Gee whiz, we don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”
He just said, “You see how it is with me; I’m up against it. Your fathers trust you, but mine doesn’t trust me. I know I’ve done some blamed fool things, but I wouldn’t burn a building down—why, that’s arson. I could be sent up for ten years for that. But the people of this old burg are just waiting to get something on me. If my father knew I was here last night, that would be enough for him. See?”
Westy said, “Well, he knowswewere here last night and that seems to be enough for him, too.”
“Yes, but how about to-morrow?” Charlie asked us. “All you kids have to do to clear yourselves is to spill all you know. The flashlight business is bad enough, then on top of that if you say you saw me here and that I was here when you left, that will look bad, won’t it? You remember when I damaged my flivver last year? The old man was sore because he thought I was just trying to stick the insurance company for fifty or so. That’s him all over—suspicious. He’s always looking for trouble. He isn’t like your fathers.”
Gee, I knew that well enough, but I didn’t say so. Because a fellow isn’t to blame on account of the kind of a father he has wished onto him.
“So you see how it is,” he said; “and it’s got me good and worried. I didn’t eat any breakfast and I didn’t eat any dinner. I was going up to see you fellows, but then I thought I wouldn’t, because your folks don’t like me and it might make them suspicious. Everybody’s against me.”
He looked out of the window as if he were afraid some of the fellows would come over. Honest, I felt sorry for him; I just couldn’t help it.
I said, “Don’t worry. I know that bunch. They won’t stop till they get the whole street looking like Spotless Town.”
He said, “So there it is. My father knows I need money. A tall chance I’d have of getting any from him; you’d have to chloroform him before he’d give up a postage stamp. That’s him. You know what an old grouch he is. Once I shouted some crazy nonsense about burning the place down; I was just mad, that’s all. But you see how it is.”
It seemed funny to me, because at my house we never had any fights or anything, and I saw how my mother and sister were right because those Slausens were different kind of people from us.
He said, “All you kids have to do to cook my goose for me is to shout out that you left me here last night. If they don’t send me to jail I’ll have to beat it out west. You kept your mouths shut so far, and I’ve got to hand it to you, because you’re a couple of A-1 little scouts. But the question is, can you stand the strain? We’re the only three that know anything. Are you game? Will you stick? Or do I have to beat it to-night? It all hangs on you. If you say I was here when you left—you won’t tell them that, will you? You won’t let anybody force it out of you? Judge, lawyers, scoutleaders——”
“You mean scoutmaster,” Westy said.
“You won’t tellanybody—in the court or anywhere?”
Gee, I felt sorry for him, because I could see he was terribly worried. I knew nobody had any use for him, and I thought that maybe already Mr. Ellsworth had some suspicions about him.
“Give me your promise,” he said, “both of you. Nobody can force you to talk if you don’t want to—can they? All you fellows came here to-day to help clear up. That shows you’ve got the right stuff in you. Won’t you help a friend out? I’m not asking you to do anything but just keep your mouths shut. You’re not afraid of O’Day and that bunch, are you? Now’s the time to show if you’re reallyscouts.”
I said, “A scout is supposed to help people in trouble, I don’t deny that. But we don’t know anything about the law. If the judge says we have to tell, I suppose we’ll have to tell. But, anyway, there’s one thing I want to ask you. I know you got caught doing some things—you know what I mean. And I know a lot of people think—but, anyway, I want to ask you this, and I’ll promise not to tell your answer. Did you set fire to the shop or didn’t you?”
He just looked straight at me and he said, “As sure as I’m sitting here in this old carI didn’t. Do you want me to swear? I took your flashlight——”
“I’m not thinking about that,” I told him. “That won’t keep me from believing you. I’m just asking you to tell me honest and true if you did or not.”
“As sure as I’m sitting here, I didn’t,” he said, good and loud.
“Then how do you think it started?” Westy asked him. “Do you thinksomebodydid it?”
“Sure somebody did it,” he said. “Didn’t they find some match ends near the cotton waste that burned up?” he said.
“I didn’t know that,” I told him.
“But what good does that do me?” he wanted to know.
I said, “Well, we’ll help you out.”
“On the level?” he shouted. “You won’t say a word? You’ll be good scouts and keep your mouths shut?”
“That shows how much you know about scouts,” I told him. “They never keep their mouths shut. But, anyway, we’ll do something better than that.We’ll find out who set fire to the shop.That’s the kind of things we’re supposed to do. If you say honest and true that youdidn’t, we’ll say honest and true that we’llfind out who did. What do you supposewecare about courts, and judges, and keeping our mouths shut? Gee whiz, there’s not much fun in that. You said last night we were good at tracking. All right, then, you leave it to us.”
“Now we’re in for it,” Westy said. “Now you put your foot in it.”
“Put my foot in what?” I asked him.
“A lot we can do between now and ten o’clock to-morrow morning,” he said; “even if it’s true that somebody set fire to the place. How are we going to solve the thing between now and tomorrow morning? He doesn’t take any stock in that and I don’t blame him. I bet he’ll beat it to-night.”
“I bet he won’t,” I said. “He didn’t have money enough last night to buy us a couple of sodas. I’d like to know where he’ll beat it to.”
“He’s good and sore at us,” Westy said.
“I should worry,” I told him; “he knows we won’t tell till we’re asked. How could we promise to refuse to tell if the judge makes us? A lot you know about courts. The only court you know anything about is a tennis court. If we don’t answer questions we’ll get in trouble ourselves, and how is that going to help him? He didn’t do it, I could see that. Only he can’t afford to have people know he was there. He’s in bad with everybody. Probably now they’re trying to trace his movements yesterday. Even Mr. Ellsworth thinks he’s no good. We don’t know what they’re up to.”
“Well, how do we know anybody set fire to the shop?” Westy wanted to know.
“How do we know who left these match ends all around the floor of this car—and these cigarette butts?”
You ought to have seen Westy stare.
“I don’t smoke and you don’t smoke and none of us fellows smoke. Well then, how did these ends of cigarettes get here? Somebody was in this car last night. Don’t you suppose I noticed that before I asked him about how the fire started? Believe me, I’m not taking Charlie Slausen’s word for much. But I’ll tell you this, he isn’t as bad as people think he is. What do you suppose Chief O’Day cares who he sends to jail as long as his name gets into the newspapers?‘Clever catch by Bridgeboro’s chief’that’s allhe’sthinking about. He isn’t smart enough to catch cold, even.”
“Well, what are we going to do?” Westy asked me.
“Now you’re talking,” I said. “First we’re going to go over and help the rest of the fellows. When we get through and they have all gone home, we’re coming back here. Then we’re going to start. We don’t want any one to know about this but ourselves.”
By about five o’clock all the members of the troop had gone home and Westy and I went back over to the car.
I said, “As long as we know there was some one here last night the next thing to do is to see if we can find any footprints.”
In the ground, just at the foot of the step, we found a couple printed there just as plain as day.
“This is a cinch,” Westy said.
“Easier than keeping our mouths shut,” I told him.
Now those footprints went in a straight line over to where the shop had stood and there we lost them on account of the stuff that was all strewn around there. But under where the window had been we found a lot of footprints. I guess some of them were our own. But there weren’t any except right there, and I suppose that was on account of the sidewalk on Willow Place being so near.
Westy said, “If anybody sneaked into the shop I bet he didn’t go along the street when he came out, especially if the fire was already started.”
I said, “Well then, he must have crossed the street and hit into the Sneezenbunker land. If you look at the map I made you’ll see how everything was around there.”
So then we went across the street and looked at the edge of the field where it ran along by the sidewalk. Westy was standing in the field right between the two rusty old tracks and he called, “Here’s a footprint good and plain.”
Good night, we were in luck. Somebody had started walking the tracks toward the river. We couldn’t find footprints in the hard earth between the tracks, where they ran across the Sneezenbunker land, but when the tracks began getting into the low, damp ground toward Cat-tail Marsh, we could see the prints just as plain as writing.
Over the marsh the old tracks run on a kind of trestle and we had to walk the ties. There were no footprints, exactly, on the ties, but there were little chunks of mud on some of them. We were on the track of somebody, all right.
There were no more footprints when we got to Van Schlessenhoff’s field because the tracks run through the grass there. But there was no place to go down that way except to the river, and there wasn’t any building anywhere about except the little shack that the men use when they go rail shooting in the fall. That little shack is on Mr. Van Schlessenhoff’s field and I guess it’s about a couple of hundred feet from the tracks. It’s right close by the river.
We stopped where we were on the tracks and Westy said, “What shall we do? Go over to the shack?”
It was beginning to get dark now and it seemed pretty lonesome down there. It’s a dandy spot, down there by the river. The town seems a long distance away. You can only just see the top of the High School through the trees. I should worry, I wouldn’t care if I couldn’t see any of it. I was glad we were going to have our old car down there. It was awful still, except for the frogs croaking, and the crickets in the field.
I didn’t exactly want to go over to that shack and I guess Westy felt the same way. I’m not afraid of tramps but, gee whiz, I’m not especially stuck on bandits. And there were a lot of those around lately, shooting up automobiles.
“Well, we’re here and we’ve got to go over,” I said, “or else what was the use of coming down here? There’s somebody in that shack, I bet.”
We went over toward the shack, and tiptoed when we got close to it, so as not to make a bit of noise. The door was shut and there wasn’t any window. We came right close to the boards and held our breath and listened....
Westy said, “Sh-h, do you hear anything inside?”
We both stood there listening, but there wasn’t a sound.
I said, “If it’s a bandit what will we do?”
“Shall I open the door?” he whispered.
He opened the door ever so little and we peeked in.
“Nothing there,” I said.
“Sh-h, yes, there is,” Westy whispered. “Look.”
Over in the corner was something that looked like a bag, and as I looked at it I saw it was a person. It was a kid, about ten years old I guess. He had a gray suit on. He was sound asleep.
“Some bandit,” Westy said. “Who is it, do you know?”
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
I said, “Search me. That’s a funny looking outfit he’s got on. Shall we wake him up?”
Westy said, “Sure.”
So we began shaking him and pretty soon he opened his eyes and began gaping and staring. I guess the kid must have thought he was dreaming because he curled up again. Then when I spoke he gave another yawn and sat up and began rubbing his eyes and staring at us. His hair was all mussed up and he reached for his hat, kind of half awake. Then I saw that his hat and his suit were both made out of the same kind of stuff, muslin sort of. I saw his shoes were awful thick, too. His suit was all wrinkled and it didn’t fit him very well and he looked awful funny.
He was good and scared when he found he was really awake and that there was somebody there. All of a sudden he stood up and he looked as if he was going to make a break for the door. Then I saw that his trousers came almost down to his ankles.
I said, “You needn’t be scared; we’re not going to hurt you.”
He said, “I wouldn’ leave yer take me back.”
I said, “Take you back where?”
We saw he was trying to edge around to the door, so Westy stood there so he couldn’t get out. It was awful dark and damp in there. There were spider-webs all around inside, and you could smell the earth. I lifted up the board he had been lying on and there were all worms under it and slugs that went scooting around.
I said, “What are you doing here? Where did you come from, anyway?”
He said, “If you don’t tell them, if you don’t take me back I’ll—I’ll give you—as much as a thousand dollars.”
I said, “Thanks. You haven’t got it with you, have you?”
“I’m—I’m going to get it,” he said. “If you tell—if you take me back—you’ll only get three hundred dollars.”
I said, “Three hundred dollars is nothing. I wouldn’t take you back for less than five thousand including the war tax. We accept your proposition. Now tell us where you came from. You don’t belong in Bridgeboro?”
Poor little kid, he was so scared he was trembling all over. “If I tell you, you’ll take me back,” he said. He looked at me as if he thought I was crazy. Gee whiz, I guess he was right.
Westy said, “You came from some home or other?”
“Are you going to tell?” the kid asked us, good and scared.
“What home?” Westy asked him. “The Boys’ Home up in Willisville?”
“I wouldn’t go back there,” the kid said. “I’ll give you as much as a thousand dollars——”
Gee whiz, he was a generous kid. I said, “Give us a cigarette, will you?”
Good night, he pulled about three packages out of his pocket. He was a walking cigar store. Some of the cigarettes were loose and all crunched up. I took one of them and stuck it in my mouth.
Westy said, kind of surprised, “What are you doing?”
I said, “We should worry. We’re criminals, aren’t we? We’re up for arson and we’re out on patrol or parole or whatever you call it. We’re going from bad to worse. Got a match, kid?”
Oh, boy! He dug his hand into his pocket and fished out about a hundred. They fell all over the floor.
I said, “You’ve got matches enough here to set the river on fire.”
Pretty soon out came a big pasteboard box like matches come in. It was half full, and matches went falling out of it, all over the ground.
I said, “The next time you empty your pockets, kid, you’d better stand in a bath tub. You don’t carry a fire extinguisher with you, do you? What are you digging for now? The thousand dollars?”
“I got a cigar,” the kid said; “but it’s busted.”
I said, “You don’t happen to have a couple of corn-cob pipes, do you? Do you give out certificates with tobacco? Look at this, Westy,” I said. “Here’s about a thousand dollars’ worth of matches right here. This kid is a whole sulphur mine. Where are you going to get the thousand dollars, kid?” I asked him.
“I’m—I’m going to invent a submarine,” he said.
“Good night!” I said, going through his pockets for more matches. “That’s a good idea. Under the water is about the safest place for you. I hope you carry fire insurance. You started a peach of a fire last night, didn’t you?”
“I can start a bigger one than that,” he said.
Just then I hauled out from one of his pockets a book. The cover was all broken off it and it was all loose and torn. The title-page said SKYHIGH SAM AND HIS SUBMARINE.
“Who’s this fellow?” I said.
“That’s a funny name for a kid that goes down in a submarine—Skyhigh.”
“He used to have a balloon,” the poor kid said.
I said, “Well, anyway, you’ve got him beat on matches. You started a bigger fire thanheever did, that’s one thing. What’s your name?”
“Sam,” he said.
“Cigarette Sam and his Famous Fire,” I said. “You’ve got Skyhigh beaten twenty ways. You’re arealhero. Come on, let’s go get something to eat. Do you know how to eat? Never mind the matches. We’ll send a couple of men down here with a wagon to get them.”
“Do I have to go back?” the poor little kid wanted to know.
“You stick to us,” I said. “We’ve got a wild, savage railroad car that has never been tamed. You were in it last night. Did I guess right? That railroad car has had more adventures than all Skyhigh’s submarines and airships put together. That car can’t be kept in a domestic state. It can’t even be kept in the state of New Jersey. If you want real adventures come with us. Only I tell you beforehand it’s a wild life. Now what do you say?”
Gee whiz, the poor kid looked at me as if he thought I was crazy. Maybe I am, but what’s the difference? You can have a lot of fun when you’re crazy.
The poor kid was willing to go with us because I guess he thought we were a couple of wild adventurers. As soon as he saw we were all right and believed in pirates and highwaymen and things, he was with us. He saw we were strong for the SKYHIGH SAM SERIES too, and so he knew it would be all right to trust us. I told him that he was even greater than Skyhigh Sam. That wasn’t saying much, but he thought it was.
On the way up and after we got to the car we found out all about the poor little duffer. He said he had started out from the Boys’ Home up in Willisville. He said that some people had sent a lot of books there for the kids, and that was how Skyhigh Sam got into the Boys’ Home.
It’s too bad they didn’t keep him there.
That poor kid sneaked out one night and started off to conquer the world with fifty cents a lady gave him. He had Skyhigh Sam with him. Then he bought four packs of cigarettes and a big box of matches. He picked up a cigar in the street, too.
He walked to Bridgeboro in the night and nobody stopped him. He didn’t know where he was going, but anyway he was going to invent a submarine. After that he was going to sell it to the government—that’s what he told us.
That first night he crawled through a place where one of the boards was broken under Tony’s Lunch Wagon. He said he was pretty hungry. That’s just like great inventors. He said there were all toadstools under the wagon. Maybe if he had been a scout he would have known that the kind under there were good to eat. Even raw they’re better than nothing. But anyway he didn’t eat any. And he was good and hungry. He could hear people above him in the wagon, and he knew they were eating. I guess he saw it was a hard life starting out to be an inventor.
The next morning he didn’t dare to go out because he was afraid some one would see him and send him back to the Home. So he stayed there all day. In the night he heard some good news. He heard that he was worth three hundred dollars. He heard them talking up in the lunch wagon about a kid running away from the Home up in Willisville and he heard them say how three hundred dollars’ reward was offered to any one who brought him back. I guess the poor kid never knew he was worth so much money. I guess up to then he thought he wasn’t worth more than about nineteen cents, wholesale.
He was pretty hungry, but he decided that he’d stay there till he thought of a good submarine, for then he’d get a thousand dollars, on account of the government always paying that much to Skyhigh Sam for inventions. He told us that if he could get the thousand dollars before anybody found him around there, then he could give that to anybody that found him and they’d keep still because a thousand dollars is better than three hundred. Poor little kid, you can laugh, but honest, that’s just what he told us.
Pretty soon came the terrible moment in his career. I got that out of the movies—terrible moment in his career. Tony moved the lunch wagon away and the first thing our brave young hero knew there he was right out in the light of day. By that you can see he was up against the housing problem, too.
Anyway he showed more sense than Skyhigh Sam ever had. He took off his funny looking orphan asylum jacket, so nobody would notice him, and while everybody was laughing and shouting over in the field, on account of Tony moving over, he picked up a part of a sandwich that somebody had thrown away, and I guess it tasted pretty good to him.
After that he went over to the station and hid under the platform of the freight house. He was a greater inventor than Edison because Edison never even did that. Gee whiz, it’s a wonder he didn’t set the freight house on fire. All the while he kept watching our car being moved and I bet he wished he could come out and be with us, poor little kid. Believe me, we could have used his appetite that afternoon if we had only known.
After the circus was all over and we fellows left the car to go home, he sneaked over and went into it. He picked up some odds and ends of sandwiches and things that were left around after the terrible battle. I hope he got the cheese sandwich that I dropped by accident, because it was a dandy one—good and thick.
I asked him how he liked the car when he first went inside it and he said it was like a castle. Believe me, it’s more like an insane asylum half the time. He said he played it was a submarine and when it began to get dark he made believe it was going down, down, under the ocean. Gee, he’s an awful funny kid. Even now he talks that way.
Anyway, then he started smoking cigarettes. I guess he ate them alive. After a while the submarine came up and there was a big British ship right near. That was Slausen’s Auto Repair Shop. If he only could have torpedoed the shop it would have saved a lot of trouble, but he decided that he’d set fire to it instead. He didn’t exactly decide that he would, but he did just the same. Actions speak louder than thoughts.
He went over and climbed into the shop through the window, Skyhigh Sam, cigarettes, matches and all. Underneath the work bench was some nice cotton waste and he lay down on that and went to sleep. He must have been there when we were there, but he was dead to the world. I guess maybe he was dreaming about submarines and things.
He said he didn’t know what time it was when he woke up, but he was hungry. He said it was all dark all around. He said it smelled like kerosene. No wonder. Gee, I’ve slept on balsam and moss and all kinds of things, but I never slept on cotton waste. So then,g-o-o-d night, he struck a match!
And pretty soon after that was when I heard the fire whistle.
That was the match! Talk about your baseball matches and your rowing matches. That was the world renowned parlor match. The great inventor got out just in time, with his ammunition. You know the rest.
He didn’t know how much depended on our finding him and on his telling the truth. But anyway, he didn’t seem to know about it being so serious to set a building on fire-I knew we wouldn’t have any trouble making him say what he did. Gee, he seemed to like to tell about it.
We were sitting in the car after dark on that Sunday night, when he told us about his career of glory. He didn’t tell us the way I told it to you. We had to keep asking him questions and that’s how we got it out of him. He was an awful funny kid. When he made believe about something he talked as if that thing just really happened. He said we could be partners with him in his new submarine if we wanted to.
I said, “Thanks just the same, but I’ve got the Silver Fox patrol on my hands and that’s enough.” Believe me, that’s a whole world war in itself.
He said we’d divide up the thousand dollars.
“Sure,” I told him, “and we’ll buy a couple of tons of matches.”
He seemed to think that now we were friends with him he’d never have to go back to the Home.
He asked us, “Are we going to live in this car?”
I said, “You’ve got in with a tribe of wild scouts. Do you know what they are? They inhabit the marshes and the woods and the candy stores and ice cream parlors——”
“We have ice cream every Sunday,” he piped up. “But only one helping. We have doughnuts, too. Do they inhabit the river?” he wanted to know.
“Who? The doughnuts?” I asked him. “Not the ones around here. They inhabit the bakery stores.”
He said, “After I invent that submarine I’m going to invent an engine.”
Westy said, “What do you say we invent some supper?”
So then Westy and I went out on the platform of the car. We told the inventor to stay inside.
I said, “What are we going to do about this kid? I don’t want to take him to my house because I don’t want anybody to know yet. But if we go home to supper and leave him here he’ll invent a way to escape.”
“Or else he’ll set fire to the car,” Westy said.
“Once we hand this kid over,” I said, “that lets us out of the arson business and it also lets Charlie Slausen out. And we’ll get three hundred dollars’ reward, too, for finding the inventor.”
“I don’t care anything about that,” Westy said; “and I’m not worrying so much about our being accused. It’s all going to fall on Charlie when they make us talk.”
“Believe me,” I told him, “when they see this kid and his box of matches that will let Charlie out. I guess they won’t ask us any questions.”
Westy said, “What shall we do? Take him to court in the morning?”
“Sure,” I said, “matches and all. It won’t make any difference who didn’t start the fire as long as they know who did. You leave it to me, my father’s uncle on my mother’s side was a lawyer. What we have to do is to keep the inventor under cover till to-morrow.”
“I hate like the dickens to see him go back to the Home,” Westy said.
“You leave that to me, too,” I told him. “I’m an inventor. Come on over to Tony’s and we’ll get some eats for the poor kid.”
Westy stayed in the car with him while I went over. I got some soup in a pail and I got some sandwiches and a big piece of pie, and a hole with a doughnut around it to remind the kid of home sweet home. When I saw the way he could eat I nearly fainted. After he got through the only thing that was left was the hole in the doughnut—good night!
After a while I said, “Now you’re going to sleep here in this submarine to-night. We’re going to shut the doors so the water won’t come in. We’re going to leave one window open so in case the water comes in it can get out again. You’re supposed to sleep here and guard the place against whales. Understand? We’re going to go and see if we can find some ships to sink. You’re supposed to stay here till we get back. If you wake up stay right here and we’ll be back early in the morning. If there isn’t enough water to go down in, you’ll find some in the water cooler. If you want to make believe you’re on a desert isle, step out in the aisle. But don’t go till we get back because we’re going to plan a big attack on the Court House to-morrow morning and we want you with us.”
“I’ll bring the matches, hey?” he said, “and we’ll——”
“Thanks,” I told him; “we’ll take care of the matches. Let’s have them, please. They may get wet under the ocean. You roll up on the seat and go to sleep, and maybe to-morrow we’ll elect you king.” He was asleep before we left him.
“One thing I’m thankful for,” said Westy, as we started home.
“What’s that?” I asked him.
“That the new Court House is fire-proof,” he said.