"Brave Man!" sneered the leader. "Get me a little rope an' I'll do him up scientific." Page 131"Brave Man!" sneered the leader. "Get me a little rope an' I'll do him up scientific." Page 131
"No good trying to hide him round here. Them scouts will be missin' him when he don't get to his meals an' swarm all over here. You run over to the city—it's only twenty-four miles. You ought to be back easy by night. You know who to leave him with."
"He's a desperate hard boy to manage," complained J. Jervice with some recollection of previous dealings. "I'm afeared one man can't handle him."
The leader laughed significantly.
"Onemancould," he declared. "But that ain't saying the kid wouldn't be too much for you."
"Tie him up," urged Mr. Jervice. "I can handle him when he's tied."
"Brave man!" sneered the leader. "Get me a little rope an' I'll do him up scientific."
He was as good as his word. When his scientific job was finished the only thing Glen could do without restraint was to perspire. He could make a few muffled noises, but no intelligible sound could he utter.
"Now chuck him inside the car, please," begged Mr. Jervice. "He'll be quiet now."
"Quiet enough," said the leader. "But hustle your car out of here and get him twenty miles awayas quick as you can. We don't want no scouts trackin' around while he's here."
Glen's spirits took another slump. It was bad enough to be captured, but his faith had been great in the scouts' deliverance. Following him twenty or thirty miles was another thing.
CHAPTER XIITHE BEE TREE
Matt's presence in the tree beneath which Glen walked with J. Jervice was neither accident nor coincidence. He had business there—business which he considered important, which he did not wish, to share either with J. Jervice or Glen Mason or any other person. At least he did not wish to share it right at that moment; later on would be another story.
Matt was making a bee tree. Perhaps you did not know that bee trees could be made, nor how to make them. Matt himself was not very clear on either of these heads. He was experimenting, and back of his experiment was a desire to get even with Chick-chick.
Henry Henry, commonly called Chick-chick, did not desire to shine as a great athlete, sport leader, a water witch, or in any of the other specialties in which Matt reveled, but he did pretend to know a little something about beetles, bugs, butterflies and bees. He had long cherished an ambition to find a "bee tree." At last night's campfire he had announced his positive belief, based on observations of the day, that such a tree was somewhere in the vicinity of the blazed oak. He had watched the bees until dark without definitely locating his tree but he had not given up.
Matt decided that it would be a great pity to let all Chick-chick's efforts go for nothing. He proposed to help find such a tree, or to put Chick-chick in the way of it so that he would be bound to find it. He wanted the find to be public, and the interest in it to be so popular that all thought of buried treasure—especially treasure buried in a bread-box—would be obliterated forever from the minds of those in camp.
Matt had gone to some little trouble in his fixing. He had neatly lettered a sign: "Wild honey. Prepared by the Honey Bees for Chick-chick." This he stuck into the bottom of the hollow limb, only an end protruding. Then he put in a good chunk of honeycomb, begged from Bob. From a small jar he then released some half dozen bees which he had allowed himself to borrow from Mr. Ryder's hives. His supposition was that these bees would fill up and fly back to the hives. Soon they would return bringing their mates with them. In a short time a steady stream of bees would be passing in and out of that hollowlimb, which would be just the time for Chick-chick to make his proud discovery and announce it.
After Matt had fixed the tree to his satisfaction his chief trouble was to lead Chick-chick to make the discovery in a perfectly natural manner. The best opportunity came as they went back to camp after the morning swim. Chick-chick was always a wanderer, likely at any moment to dart off in sudden pursuit of something. This morning it was a butterfly, and to Matt's delight he ran in the direction of the loaded tree. The crowd joined in the pursuit. They were within a short distance of Matt's tree before they gave it up.
"How about that bee tree you were going to get, Chick-chick?" suggested Matt. "Round here somewhere, isn't it?"
"Why not?" asked Chick-chick. "Why not. Why ain't this good place as any for bee make her happy cupboard?"
"Show it to us, Chick-chick. You're hiding it. We know what you are trying to do. You want to keep all that honey for yourself."
"Chick-chick wants all the honey for himself," chimed the chorus. "Lead us to your bee tree, Chick-chick. Don't be selfish."
"A'right, boys. There's bee tree in these woods. I don't want dinner—want bee tree. Allwho feel just so an' similar follow me. Here flies honey-bee right now. Watch her!"
And the bee sailed right to Matt's tree.
"Oh, look at the bees buzzing around that hole. Let me get at it," cried an excited scout.
"Not too familiar," warned Chick-chick. "Bees have feelin's. D'ye never hear the piece:
"How doth the little honey beeIn self defense excel.She gives her life for one sharp stingYet hath she spent it well."
"Leave it to the expert, fellows," cried Matt. "Let him get at it. Make way for the sum of all knowledge."
"It's me he means," modestly admitted Chick-chick. "He wants me to tackle this peculiar tree. Peculiar tree an' peculiar bees!"
"Why peculiar?"
"They've done changed theirselves since I saw 'em yes'day. To-day they're Italians—the nicest kind of tame bees we have. Yes'day they was wild, black Germans—nothing like this."
"What changed 'em?"
"Jes' naturally smart, reckon. See, they scratched the bark gettin' up tree, too. Here's place one of 'em rested number nine shoe an' cutbark through. Most remarkable honey bees ever heard of."
"Why don't you go up an' find out about 'em?"
"Answer me this botanical riddle first. What's difference between tree and a plant?"
"We give it up."
"You too, Matt?"
"Sure I give it up. What is it."
"Well, Matty, Great an' Only; in this case ain't no difference. This is tree an' plant too. 'Tain't a bee tree but it's bee plant, see. Watch the bees. Ought to be comin' in loaded an' goin' away light. But they ain't—they're doing just totherwise. Somebody's put some stuff up there. Who d'ye reckon?"
But Matt was already stealing away.
"Let him go," directed Chick-chick. "Bees are all buzzing 'stung' they are. But no stinger in me."
After that, no one cared further what the tree held. They rushed back to camp, for the dinner hour was upon them and their appetites were brisk from their swim.
Dinner was almost ended when Chick-chick, who was acting as a waiter, was called to the end of the table where the scoutmaster sat with Will Spencer.
"Mr. Spencer is wondering about Glen Mason," said Mr. Newton. "He hasn't come in, yet, for dinner. Was he at the swim?"
"No, sir. I haven't seen Brick since morning."
The scoutmaster rose to his feet.
"Mason has not appeared at dinner. Has any one seen him since ten o'clock?"
There was no answer; the boys waited in silence. At last Chick-chick held out a crumpled sheet of paper.
"I haven't seen him, but here's what found near tree where Matt thought he'd found bee tree," he explained.
It was the note from J. Jervice. Mr. Newton read it in silence.
"I don't know who could have written such a note," he remarked, handing it to Jolly Bill.
Then Matt Burton found his voice.
"I was in the neighborhood where the note was dropped this morning and I saw Mason in company with the very disreputable peddler fellow who came here Sunday. They seemed very intimate and were going off together."
"What do you mean by going off together?"
"I mean they were just walking along through the woods like they'd always known each other and were planning something. The thought cameto me that they might be accomplices and the peddler had sent the boy into our camp just to work something up."
"He sure did it," volunteered Chick-chick.
"Something up and something down," suggested an irresponsible listener.
"That's enough, boys." Mr. Newton brought them sharply to order. "Burton has no right to such a guess nor you to such remarks. They don't make for harmony. They aren't helpful. You may all go now, except the patrol leaders and assistants and the signal corps."
When the little group had collected Mr. Newton continued his remarks.
"Glen Mason is a scout—a member of this troop—and we are responsible for him in more ways than one. Mr. Spencer and I know enough about him to be sure that there is no reason why he should go away with the peddler excepting under misrepresentation. Perhaps nothing out of the way has happened, but we have just a suspicion that Jervice is making an effort to get Glen into his hands for a reward which he thinks he will get."
"He'll have a sweet time holding him in his hands after he gets him," interrupted Jolly Bill.
"Unless he has help," corrected Mr. Newton."And this is not improbable. Because of this I want the scouts to divide into groups of four and explore the territory I lay out. Each patrol leader and each assistant will take three boys. Signal and make for headquarters at once if you find anything. If there is any need of a rescue don't attempt it without me. Henry may start at the place where he found the note."
Thus it happened that a short time later, Chick-chick, Goosey and two other scouts were making a careful search around the bee tree.
"Everything's trampled flat around here. That crowd this morning did it," announced Chick-chick. "Every fellow spread out ten yards to his left."
It was Goosey who found the trail.
"Here it is," he cried. "It's Brick's trail all right. Mr. Spencer said to look for marks of heel plate on the right shoe and here it is. There was somebody with him."
The ground being soft and damp in spots there was no difficulty in following the trail. It led them to an open glen which showed a recent camp fire and the travel of many feet. Leading off toward the road were the broad depressions made by the tires of an automobile.
"My find, now," cried Chick-chick. "Here'swhere we do some real fine work, an' we can do it on the run, we can. See the tracks. What are they?"
"Automobile tracks," yelled the squad.
"What kind of a tire made 'em?"
There was no enthusiastic shout this time.
"An automobile tire," ventured Goosey.
"Jes' so, Goosey. Jes' so! It was rubber one, too, why don't you say? Good, safe guess—rubber."
"All right, Chick-chick. Be as funny as you want. If my father ran a garage I reckon I'd know something about tires, too."
"'Scuse me! You certainly right, Goosey. Who ought know automobile tires if not me. What I want you see is these tires can be followed anywhere 'cause they're non-skid with that peculiar bar formation. They'll show up on road so we can follow on dead run, we can."
"How do you know we want to follow? What makes you suppose Mason has gone in the car? Maybe we'll find his tracks going on away from here."
"Bright thought, Goosey. Ev'body look for tracks leading 'way from here."
They searched industriously but in vain.
"No good," decided Chick-chick. "Got oldBrick in their wagon, all right, all right. We must go after him, we must."
"Mr. Newton said not to attempt any rescue."
"We ain't was going to. Back to headquarters an' report an' me for my motor-bike. Mr. Newton mebbe can get a car in Buffalo Center an' mebbe he can't; but no heavy old buzz-wagon can get where my motor-bike can't catch 'em."
Mr. Newton agreed to Chick-chick's plan of chase rather more readily than he had expected.
"It's perhaps as good a thing as we can do," he asserted, discussing the plan with Will Spencer. "I have a good many of the younger scouts in my especial care and cannot afford to leave camp on a wild goose chase."
"Motor-bike carries two," suggested Chick-chick. "Apple go with me?"
"Yes. You and Corliss may go. Don't do anything foolish. If you overtake the car get the peddler to stop. If Glen is a captive use your coolest judgment about interfering. The man may be armed and it would be far better to push on to the nearest town and get help than to risk a bullet. Of course, if Glen should be going of his own wish you must just come back and tell me."
"No fear of that," said Spencer.
"What shall we do if he isn't to be seen and the peddler won't let us look inside?" asked Apple.
"A scout's judgment and ingenuity ought to be worth something in such a case," replied Mr. Newton. "I prefer not to instruct you. I'm not sending you two big fellows out as messenger boys but as scouts. Use all the knowledge and courage and skill that you have, but don't take unnecessary risks."
CHAPTER XIIITHE CHASE ON THE MOTOR-BIKE
The boys felt the importance of their commission as they rode away from the camp on the motorcycle. They had no difficulty picking up the track of the autocar. It ran directly to the village and on through.
"Let's find out what the old car looks like," suggested Apple. "Maybe, too, they can tell us just how long ago it passed."
There was no difficulty in getting a description of the car—one enthusiastic person even went so far as to detail all the various articles advertised by J. Jervice for sale.
"How many people were riding?" asked Apple.
"A little man at the steering wheel and a big fellow perched up next to him."
"Didn't you see a boy on it?"
"No boy anywhere unless he was inside. Of course we couldn't tell about inside. It's jest like a wagon in a circus parade—nice paint on the outside an' the inside left to yore 'magination."
"Two men on the wagon—one a big fellow!" exclaimed Apple, as they left the fount of information. "We'll have to be pretty careful what we do."
"Sure will," agreed Chick-chick. "They got over an hour's start, so we'll have to go some—Hello, have they been stopping here?"
"Looks like it. There's marks that show a man got off the car."
"The big man," said Chick-chick. "Look where the tracks are headed, Apple. He's gone back to the village. Didn't get back on car at all. Good for us."
Chick-chick had correctly guessed. After J. Jervice and his car were safely through the village the big man had alighted.
"I'm goin' back to lie aroun' an' meet the other fellows," he said to Jervice. "You beat it along with your car. You can stop an' do a little tradin' when ye get to the next county. That'll prove you wasn't anywheer around if anythink should happen to-night. But be sure you git rid of the kid an' start back so's to git here by midnight."
Apple and Chick-chick took up the trail with renewed confidence now that they felt they had only Jervice to reckon with. They had seen himat the scout camp last Sunday and had no great respect for his dimensions or prowess.
It was late in the afternoon when first they saw the peddler's car in the road ahead.
"Let's trail along kind o' slow and watch him awhile," suggested Apple. "Maybe he'll be stopping somewhere."
As it happened this guess was well founded. Mr. J. Jervice had two reasons for stopping. One was that he wanted himself to be seen a good, long distance away from the bank, so that he could prove that he was far distant from that region if any robbery occurred. The other was a natural cupidity which sorely regretted the necessity of hurriedly passing prosperous farm houses where perfectly good money was all ready to exchange for his wares.
A mile further on a splendid house came into view. Everything about it spelled prosperity—its barns, and silos and windmills and fences all showed that the residents believed in having what they needed and had money to spend on their needs. The bait was irresistible. Mr. Jervice stopped his car at the side of the road, clambered down from his seat and went to lift the bars from the rear door.
Two boys on a motorcycle ditched their wheel a hundred yards away and crept cautiously up.
"He's going to the house to try to sell something," whispered Apple. "We must keep him from locking those back doors so we can look inside."
"We sure will," vowed Chick-chick.
Crouching in the bushes at the side of the road their pulses throbbed in great excitement as they observed that the peddler addressed some one inside the car. His tone was low so they did not catch the words, but they heard a mumble and saw his cruel laugh.
"We'll teach him to laugh," whispered Chick-chick.
"But supposing he shuts and locks that rear door before he goes up to the house."
"That's up to us. We'll watch him. If he locks it we must catch him as he goes through that orchard and get the key away."
They watched in great anxiety. Mr. Jervice closed the rear doors of his van and put the heavy bars in their slots, but, secure in the isolation of his surroundings, he did not apply the padlock. Wherein, Mr. Jervice committed a grievous error.
Scarcely was he concealed within the orchardthan the two scouts rushed to the car, lifted the bar and swung back the door. There lay their new comrade, helplessly trussed and gagged, faint and weary with the close confinement, almost ready to collapse.
"Water!" he gasped, as Apple took the gag from his mouth. "Get me a drink."
Apple was able to supply him from his canteen, and even as he held it to the parched lips, Chick-chick was slashing the cords that had been drawn needlessly tight.
"I think I can manage this little old machine, I can," announced Chick-chick. "Apple, you can run my bike. Go back and get it."
"Rub my wrists where the cords cut, while he's gone," Glen begged. "That fellow that tied me up—he's a thief, that's what he is. He pulled 'em tighter just to see me wince."
He was too cramped to stand on his feet so Chick-chick kneeled down at his side to rub some circulation into his wrists and ankles. Suddenly a great noise of running was heard. Chick-chick looked out through the crack of the door.
"It's the peddler," he declared. "He's running like a bull was chasing him, he is. He's headed straight for the car."
"We'll give him a surprise," said Glen."Probably he's run on to somebody who knows that he's a thief and they're after him. I'll just lie the way I was and you stand where the door will hide you."
Glen missed his guess in one important trifle. J. Jervice did not wait to be surprised. He was in such terror that he waited for nothing. He threw a pack in at the door, slammed it, dropped the bar in place with the incredible swiftness of long practice and in less than a minute had his motor cranked and the car in motion.
Coming up on the motorcycle a minute later Apple saw the car disappearing around a turn in the road, and wildly chasing it a puffing, panting old man, brandishing a heavy club.
The positions of the scouts were changed for the better, but they yet were a long distance from freedom. Instead of Glen tied and gagged in the car with Chick-chick and Apple following on the motorcycle, Apple now was following alone, while, imprisoned in the car, were both Glen and Chick-chick with the fortunate difference that the gag and bonds were removed.
"We're shut in," whispered Chick-chick. "Pretty mess I made of rescue, I did."
"No mess at all," said Glen. "I'm free now and ready for anything, or shall be when I getsome circulation in my feet and hands. Can't move till then, anyway. What d'ye s'pose Apple's doing?"
"Following us along, Apple is, you bet. When he gets a chance he'll help us out, he will. Say, what's loose board here?"
"I don't know," replied Glen. "It's got a ring in it like it might be intended to be lifted up."
"Bet I know," said Chick-chick. "I reckon the transmission case is just below here, an' this is fixed to lift out so you can see transmission without crawling underneath."
"It wouldn't make a big enough hole to let us out, would it?" asked Glen.
"No, it wouldn't. But if I can get to that transmission I can stop car—won't run little bit."
"Could you start it again?"
"Depend on what I did to gears."
"Let's try it."
The board came up easily. Four bolts held the lid of the transmission case but were readily removed with Chick-chick's pocket wrench.
"Now we'll pack in something soft. Clog up the gears without breaking 'em."
"What good will that do—except make him mad."
"Help us out—it will. He isn't enough mechanicto find out why can't run. Off he goes town after help. Leaves us here do as we please. We know where trouble is. Fix it. Off we go."
There was plenty of soft material to feed into the transmission case. The car pulled unsteadily and stopped. The boys cautiously replaced the board in the floor and awaited developments. They could hear J. Jervice tinkering around, examining brakes and wheels and everything but the transmission.
"Hey, you!" he called after a few minutes. "You inside there! D'ye hear me?"
Then as it probably occurred to him that he could expect no great volubility from a gagged prisoner he continued:
"I've broke down an' I'm goin' to git help. When I bring a mechanic back don't ye try makin' no racket or it'll be the worse for ye."
The first positive assurance that he had gone was when Apple came up on the motorcycle, lifted the bar and opened the doors. It did not take them long to scramble out.
The world looked very beautiful to the eyes of Glen Mason after his hours of real peril and imprisonment. It was fine to be able once more to stretch out and shake loose every little muscle, to be able to draw in a long breath, just as deepas one wanted, free from the muffling of a foul mouth gag. The world was a good old place in which to live and surely Glen would henceforth try to live in it in an appreciable manner.
"Look here, fellows," said Chick-chick. "I know all about this old wagon. I can make it go ramblin' right along; handle it so it's perfectly tame an' gentle—take the bit nice an' stand 'thout hitchin'. What d 'ye say? Do we make the horsey go for Mr. Jervice?"
"You mean run away with it?" asked Apple. "That wouldn't be right, would it?"
"You don't know much 'bout this gang, Apple. Brick's been telling me. He's found out about 'em, Brick has. Regular band o' thieves, they are."
"Thieves!" exclaimed Apple. "No wonder they acted mean."
"No wonder. Wonder is they did no worse, it is. They think they're going rob Buffalo Center bank to-night. We'll show 'em, we will."
"Would taking their car away stop them?"
"It would be apt to hinder," said Glen. "I think Jervice carries their kit in his wagon and they depend on him to get their stuff hauled away."
"Take away their little old wagon sure will bother 'em."
"What would you do with it?"
"Turn it round. Run back to Buffalo Center and give sheriff."
"All right," agreed Apple. "You'll have to get busy if you want to get it back before dark. I suppose I'll have to ride the motor-bike."
"Reckon you're elected, Apple. Brick can't ride it, an' I can't run more 'n one at a time."
"Well, I'll not get far ahead of you. I'll keep you in sight, anyway."
CHAPTER XIVSAFE AT CAMP BUFFALO
Riding triumphantly on the driver's seat with Chick-chick made the return journey very different from the miserable trip Glen had made inside the car, bound and gagged, and horribly jolted at every irregularity of the road.
"Shall we leave car at Buffalo Center, or run right on to camp an' show the booty?" asked Chick-chick.
"We haven't made the trip yet," Glen reminded him. "If we're lucky enough to get all the way to Buffalo Center we'd better deliver it to the first officer we see, sheriff or constable," counseled Glen. "We don't want to be arrested for stealing. It won't do for me to be arrested for anything."
"But don't you think we ought let scoutmaster see it? Let him have say about it. Don't you think?"
"Perhaps we ought," agreed Glen, who saw clearly that Chick-chick longed for the honor ofdriving his captured car proudly into camp—an exciting honor which he was not reluctant to share.
"It certainly would be fine if we could make it."
But it was not to be. Daylight was still pretty good, so that they could see a long distance back along the road. And so, when they still had several miles to go, they looked back and saw their nemesis overhauling them.
"That car's coming like fury," observed Glen. "I'll bet it's Jervice and his friends hot after us."
"'Fraid so," sighed Chick-chick. "Gettin' all speed out of the old wagon I can."
"We'd better try to catch Apple and all get on the motor-bike," suggested Glen.
"Can't catch Apple unless he takes notion to turn an' see we want him. Think we can hide, I do."
"Hide the car, too?"
"Hide the car. Saw place on way out. It's less'n mile from here. There's creek pretty near dry, and bridge over it. But there's ford by side of bridge, too. We forded it coming out."
"Can you get the car down?"
"Think I can. Think can run down by ford an' get under bridge. They'll go shooting by without seeing us, they will."
It was time to be taking some action. As they mounted the hill they were evidently seen by the pursuers who sent a pistol shot after them, though not with any possibility of reaching them. At the foot of this hill lay the creek.
Chick-chick slackened speed and scanned the bank eagerly to see if the car could make the descent. Dusk was already present under the heavy timber by the creek, and he left the road slowly with the double object of feeling his way and leaving as little track as possible.
Glen leaped from the car and bent back the brush flattened out by the wheels and kicked dust over the tracks left by the car in turning. Then he rushed down and found that by skillful driving Chick-chick had managed to make the descent safely and drive the car under the arch of the bridge, so concealed by the abutments and by outgrowing bushes that there would be little likelihood of attracting notice from above excepting from careful searchers.
A few seconds later the noise overhead told them that the pursuing car had rushed on, still hot in the chase.
"What's to do, now, Brick?" asked Chick-chick. "Got old car down pretty easy, we did. Don'tknow about getting back. Reckon I could cross over an' climb t'other side."
"I don't believe we want to try it," counseled Glen. "We are only a couple of miles from Buffalo Center. They'll be there in a minute or two. When they find we've dodged 'em they'll start back hunting for us. We'll meet 'em and there'll be real trouble. We don't want their car, anyway."
"Let's walk on an' catch Apple, then," suggested Chick-chick. "When he finds we don't come he'll either wait for us or start back. We can all ride into camp on the bike, we can."
"Leave the wagon just like this?"
"Why not? 'Tain't ours: All we've done is interfere with burglars. If this car carries the burgling things to rob the bank they won't be able to burgle to-night, anyway. Let's look for that chart they showed you. If it's anything about the treasure it's ours."
"He said he kept it on the shelf with his railroad guides. I'm afraid he put it in his pocket after they'd looked at it."
They found the shelf with the railroad folders, but no chart of any description was there.
"'Fraid you'd see more of it than they wanted," suggested Chick-chick.
"They need not," said Glen. "I don't care what's on their chart."
"Why not?" asked Chick-chick. "Why not? They got chart cave. Cave is somewhere between our camp an' top Buffalo Mound. They say Indian cave an' think Indians have hid treasure there; why not?"
"What makes you think the cave is between our camp and the top of Buffalo Mound?"
"Didn't you say Jervice man stuck his thumb over—so shut out your look. What he do that for if cave ain't there?"
"You jump too quick, Chick-chick. I'm not sure there's a cave at all. I just know that they talked as if they were looking for a cave or a hole in the ground or some place where somebody had hid a lot of plunder."
"Sure you know it. An' why wouldn't it be a cave? An' didn't you say the big man said he'd bet Indians had bullion hid in same cave they were hunting. Didn't you?"
"That isn't saying it's so," objected Glen.
"It's sayin' it's worth lookin'," affirmed Chick-chick. "Didn't one of 'em say chart was drawn from description Indians gave?"
"Yes, but they might have been fooling 'em."
"An' they might not. If it's Indian cave it'sgot our treasure. You draw copy that chart from memory soon as we get back, you do."
"I can't draw," objected Glen. "Maybe I can remember enough about it to tell you or Apple how to put it on paper."
"Here's Apple coming now," said Chick-chick. "He's the boy to draw. Draws better 'n flax seed poultice. You'll draw him all maps he wants when we get to camp, won't ye, Apple?"
"If we ever get back," said Apple. "It's getting dark. Father will be anxious. Why are you leaving the car?"
"Don't want it," explained Chick-chick. "Isn't ours. 'Fraid somebody see us with it an' think our name is Jervice. We all get on little old bike an' hike along sudden, we do."
Three boys was no special load for the motor-bike. They were constantly on the look out for the pursuing car which they expected to meet coming back, but nothing did they see of it. They rushed through Buffalo Center and a few minutes later Chick-chick blew his horn for the camp.
Great was the excitement when it was seen that the search party not only had returned but had brought the missing boy. Glen was almost mobbed by the crowd of scouts who pulled him oneway and another in vociferous and jovial greeting. It was an experience such as had never happened in all his life, and his heart throbbed with thankfulness, and unbidden and unexpected tears rushed to his eyes that he should be honored with such a welcome by such loyal comrades. "God is good," came the thought, and he knew that henceforth he would live a richer, deeper and more loyal life because of this experience.
Off to one corner Apple had a noisy audience and there were yet others who gathered about Chick-chick as he retailed to them in his jerky fashion such things as he deemed proper for them to know. Loud and furious discussions were heard from every group.
"There won't be any looting of the Buffalo Center Bank while the scouts are in camp, that's a cinch," proclaimed big Tom Scoresby.
"Tom'll see to that," added Chick-chick.
"If Tom doesn't do it alone, the scouts will," insisted Tom. "We wouldn't let robbers loot a bank with us in camp not a mile away, would we, Mr. Newton?"
"We wouldn't expect to have anything of the kind going on," agreed Mr. Newton.
"Great yarn, this," Matt Burton, was saying to his own little group. "I reckon we're expectedto swallow it with our eyes shut. I never heard such stuff."
"What d'ye mean it's a yarn, Matt?" asked a scout.
"This story about those fellows being bank robbers. Why that scared little old peddler would be afraid to rob a sandbank. If anybody gave him a cross look, he'd die."
"You don't mean to say Brick Mason's lying?"
"Oh, no! He just has dreams."
"Did he dream himself tied up with cords cutting in so sharp they left red welts and took half hour to get circulation going?" demanded Chick-chick who had overheard.
"Red welts nothing!" retorted Matt. "I could raise red welts all over my body and never feel it."
"You keep makin' insinuations an' I know fellow'll raise red welts on you so you won't feel anything for month," threatened Chick-chick. "I felt those welts. Saw 'em too. Plain as the ridges on a non-skid tire. Anybody's thinks Brick had 'em made for fun can get all that kind o' fun he wants."
"What's the trouble, scouts?"
It was Mr. Newton, his attention drawn by the angry tones.
"Explainin' 'bout Brick's body marks," said Chick-chick.
"I think you've talked long enough." Mr. Newton easily guessed the quarrel. "Go along with Corliss and Glen and work your tongue on your supper. You other fellows see they get filled up."
Glen had rushed to Will Spencer at his first free moment, but the supper table gave him his first real chance for conversation with him. Will had his billy cart pushed up where he could clap Glen on the shoulder and tell him again how glad he was to see him safe and sound.
"Nice, comfortable day you've given your Uncle Bill," he said in cheerful accusation.
"Did you worry about me?" asked Glen.
"Not so much about you," explained Jolly Bill. "But I had a terrible time making my mind easy about that poor peddler and worrying about what would happen to him when you found he'd run off with you."
"I didn't believe there was anything J. Jervice could do to me, but I found people worse than him. I believe he's one of a robber gang—"
"I don't understand these references to robbers," interrupted Mr. Newton. "Perhaps you'd better make it clear to us."
So for the benefit of the two men, Glen went over the whole story, telling them all about his capture, his suspicions of the gang, the chart he had seen, and the way they had treated him when he refused to acquiesce in their plans.
"That sounds very grave," said Mr. Newton, busy already penciling a note. "I'll get you to take this letter to town, Henry, just as soon as you have finished your supper."
"You think they intended to rob the bank to-night?" asked Spencer.
"That was their original plan, I am sure; but I don't know—"
He was interrupted by a very earnest and eager delegation of scouts, with big Tom Scoresby at its head. Tom saluted and asked permission to address a request to the scoutmaster.
"We want to go out and capture these bank robbers before they get far away," he explained. "According to what Chick-chick says, the peddler's car is within three miles of here. Our plan is to go after it and use it to catch the thieves."
"How many scouts are in for this?" asked Mr. Newton.
As with one voice fifteen scouts shouted "I." Others came running to swell the number.
"Let us think this over quietly, scouts. Itwould be a great thing for us to capture this gang of thieves, wouldn't it?"
There was no doubt that the sentiment met with unanimous favor.
"Why would it be such a fine thing?"
Dead silence prevailed for a moment after this direct question; then all manner of answers filled the air.
"Show what scouts can do!"
"Put an end to bank robbing!"
"Protect our fellow citizens!"
"Glory for troop 3!"
"A scout is helpful!"
"Great sport to catch robbers!"
"A scout is brave!"
"Show we're good as men!"
These were some of the answers that were shot at the scoutmaster.
When quiet prevailed Mr. Newton resumed his talk.
"A man asked me once if I didn't think the National Council made a mistake in its decree that every organization of scouts must have a scoutmaster.
"'You baby your boys,'" he said. 'You ought to put them on their own responsibility.'
"But he forgot that certain things, such as atempered judgment, come only by experience. A scout is brave and a scout is helpful, true enough. But a scout must learn how to use his bravery and when to be helpful.
"Now suppose I allowed you to organize for a robber hunt, and suppose that, during that hunt, some robber was so unfair as to fire real cartridges and hit some member of our expedition. What good would it do to tell the boy's mother that her son was brave, or helpful, or adventurous, or daring? What would it avail to tell her that in preparation for manhood scouts must develop daring and courage?"
He paused, but the silence was broken by no reply.
"I can conceive of circumstances in which the risk of your lives would be your duty, and I hope that, should they come, no scout of this troop will count life dearer than honor. But this is not one of them. This is a plain case for plain handling, and I want to tell you how I have handled it.
"There is a deputy sheriff in the village and I have sent word to him of the circumstances and of our suspicions. He, being a regularly appointed officer of the law, will take such steps as seem best to protect the bank and to apprehend the robbers. He is not likely to call for helpfrom this camp for he knows that there are but two citizens here who could legally be enlisted in his posse. One of them is crippled, and the other has a squad of young boys in his care; but if the sheriff should feel a need to call upon these men, I venture to say that neither will hold back."
The boys moved away in rather an unusual silence. It was broken by a voice from a distant group, speaking loudly in heavy sarcasm.
"No need to bother about what the sheriff will do. He won't do a thing because he'll know that the whole thing is a plant."
The words rang out quite distinctly above the rather subdued hum of the other voices.
"The Great an' Only Matty!" exclaimed Chick-chick in disgust. "He sure knows all about it if it'splant."