CHAPTER XVSTRENGTH AND LOYALTY
Glen found next day that he had suddenly become somewhat of a hero. Apple and Chick-chick had privately given very good accounts of his fortitude and resource. He felt about as happy as ever in his life and all manner of good impulses stirred within him.
None of the three who had taken chief part in yesterday's adventure felt very much inclined to energy this bright morning. Glen lay in the warm grass close to Jolly Bill and his billy-cart in peaceful comfort. His muscular arms were a senna brown, his bare chest the same color, excepting where it was marked by a dull blue design similar to that which caused an anchor and various rings to appear prominently upon his arms.
"'Lo, Brick," said the cheery voice of Chick-chick, whose light hearted philosophy and undisturbed equanimity under all circumstances Glen greatly admired. "Some strong man, ain't you, Brick?"
"Pretty strong for a boy," Glen admitted.
"Say, Brick, Goosey wants ask you question," jerked out Chick-chick. "Goosey so bashful wouldn't come alone, he wouldn't."
"I'd like fine to be strong like you, Brick," said Goosey. "Some of us kids have been talking about it and one fellow says he's noticed that strong men like sailors and railroad men always have tattoo marks like you got. A brakeman told him that's what made him strong. Some ofuswant you to fix us up."
Glen laughed, but it was a bitter laugh.
"Do you know how much I'd give to have these marks cleared off, if I had the money?" he asked, savagely.
"Cleared off!" exclaimed Goosey. "Why, Brick, they're just handsome. That anchor on your arm and the flag on your chest—why we kids think they're great!"
"Wait till you kids get to be a little bit older and find out what real people think of 'em—I mean people that are people. They call 'em gallows marks in the school back there. The chaplain he's strong against 'em. I 'member when he caught a kid having some ink pricked in by one of us."
"Got after you, did he?" asked Chick-chick.
"Well, he says, 'You kids know why I always wear a bandage round my right arm when I play tennis?' I'd often wondered. 'I suppose it's to strengthen the arm,' I guessed."
"Was it?" asked Goosey, eagerly. If there was anything that would strengthen an arm he wanted to know it.
"Strengthen the arm nothing!" replied Glen, with contempt. "He rolled up his sleeve and snowed us where he had a woman's head tattooed in. I s'pose you'd say it was a peach of a head, Goosey."
"Wasn't it done right?" asked Goosey.
"Done fine. Done as well as they're ever done. But he was ashamed of it. He put on that bandage just so it wouldn't show when his sleeve was rolled up."
"I don't understand that," said Goosey, in evident disappointment.
Chick-chick, too, inclined to the opinion that the chaplain was over nice.
"You'd understand if he spoke to you about it," said Glen. "He says to us: 'Every once in a while you'll find a good man and a smart man that is all marked up with tattoo marks, but where they're carried by one clean, smart man, there's a hundred bums and tramps that have 'em. Ifa good man has 'em it's a safe bet that he didn't put 'em on when he was doing well. It means that some time in his life he was down in bad company. It's the poorest kind of advertising."
"That's why he hid 'em up, then."
"Chiefly. He says 'One reason I cover this up is so it won't set foolish ideas into boys' heads. There's many a business man would pay ten thousand dollars to get rid of the ugly marks. There are all kinds of ways but none of 'em work well and most of 'em cost the fellow that owns the skin an awful lot o' pain as well as the money. The way to get rid of tattoo marks,' he says, 'is not to put 'em on.'"
"But since you can't help having 'em, you aren't going to let 'em keep you down, are you, Brick, old top?"
It was Jolly Bill who asked the question. They had thought him asleep in his cart.
"No, nor anything else," declared Glen. "I'm not so far behind. Somebody asked me once, 'How does it come you talk so well?' They don't understand that we learn as much in the state schools as in the regular public school, and we have to do our best or make a show at it, whether we want to or not."
"But, Brick," persisted Goosey. "You said alot about the tattoo marks, but you didn't say yet whether it makes you strong."
"Chick-chick," commanded Jolly Bill. "You lead that little boy away. Whatever made you bring him here with his sad story? What is there in a little India ink, pricked beneath the skin, to make you strong—does it make father's shirts strong when mother uses it to put his initials in the corner? Lead him off, Chick-chick."
"That's all right," Goosey observed. "Matt Burton thinks it's what makes Brick strong. Matt says no reform school boy could knock him down if he hadn't been doped up with some stimulant."
"You mustn't pay too much attention to what Matt Burton says," counseled Spencer.
"Oh, I don't. Matt says there wasn't any thief and there isn't any cave, and I believe there is. Matt says he wouldn't believe it, anyway, 'cause Brick says it's so."
"You'd better run along, little boy, before you say something Matt'll be sorry for," said Spencer.
Glen had stood a good deal from Matt and had borne it quietly. It was not that it did not sting, but that he believed he was "taking his medicine." Let no one suppose, however, that becausehe had started on the up route, Glen Mason disclosed any anatomical peculiarities such as the sprouting of wings. His capacity for taking a wrong view of matters was as great as ever. The only difference was that he resisted it occasionally. But there was a limit to his resistance, and so nearly had he reached it that this report of Goosey's decided him to take a sufficient vacation from his good principles to allow of the administration to Matt Burton of one good, swift punch.
Goosey said that Matt was walking toward Buffalo Center when last seen. There was only one road to the village, so with his bottled up vengeance in his heart Glen struck out along this road.
There, on the main street of the little town, right at the Bank corner, stood Matt talking to a couple of men who sat on the low railing which served for ornament rather than protection to the bank front. One of the men wore a star on his coat; the other was a rough looking individual who yet had an official air.
It was no part of Glen's program to create a public disturbance, but he was quite resolved not to let Matt get far out of his sight. A good plan was to hike through the alley and come up on the south side of the bank building, where, hidden bya convenient pillar, he would be able to hear what was going on without being seen.
Glen lost no time getting through the alley, and in a few moments, flattened against the wall at the southwest corner, could hear all that Matt said to the men as they sat on the rail at the west front.
"What we want," said one man, "is to catch 'em in the act. They was timid last night and the fust little noise we made they was off. Are you one o' them scouts as seen 'em yestiddy?"
"I have seen the little peddler," asserted Matt. "I didn't think he had spunk enough to rob a blind man."
"Mebbe he has—mebbe he ain't. It don't allus take spunk. Yore chief said they was another fellow—desp'rit villain. Did ye see him?"
"No, I didn't," Matt admitted reluctantly. "I don't often have any luck. It takes fellows like Glen Mason."
"Name sounds familiar. Mason! Glen Mason! Let me look at that circ'lar I got in my pocket. Thought that was it. Fellow, that name, just run off f'm the reform school. Here's the bill about it."
Glen was seized with a paralyzing terror. This constable or sheriff or whatever he was had onlyto reach around the corner to lay hands right on him. He forgot all about revenge on Matt—what he now wanted was to get away.
Then he heard the officer's next question.
"This Glen Mason fellow you speak about—is he one of your regular scouts?"
Glen waited in breathless suspense to hear how Judas would betray him. The answer left him high and dry, gasping with surprise.
"Yes, he's a regular scout," said Matt. "He's a tenderfoot. I suppose it isn't such a very uncommon name."
After all, Matt was a scout—a scout and a patrol leader. He might be conceited, he might be supercilious, he might and did need a lot of nonsense sweated out of him. But he was a scout, and—a scout is loyal! He would have loved dearly to see Glen Mason sent back to the reform school and thus removed from disputing his preeminence. But he was no Judas—his should not be the tongue to betray a fellow scout.
Glen straightened the fist that he had clenched so fiercely at his side, and drew a deep breath as he settled himself down more closely into the protection of his pillar.
"I'd like to see the feller that seen the robbers an' took the ride in their car. I'd like to seethe car. I didn't see it when they went through here yestiddy." It was the rough voice again.
"Why not go now and see it?" asked Matt. "The bridge where the boys hid it is only a couple of miles away."
"No good," replied the man. "Them boys wasn't as smart as they thunk. We sent up to get the car fust thing after yore chief sent the word to us last night, but all they was left of it was tracks."
So the car was gone. Glen could easily understand how they discovered it. They had only to run back to where the peculiar tires ended their journey and then search to find where they had left the track. So the ford would have been discovered and then the car.
"If I'd been driving I'd have run it right up to the sheriff's office and claimed the reward," boasted Matt.
"Mebbe you would—mebbe you wouldn't. Mebbe you'd got a few slugs o' lead under your vest. Them fellers must ha' been pretty clos't around to get that car away so quick. I think them boys was clever. Anyway they wasn't no reward then. They is now—five hundred dollars. The Bankers' Association offered it soon as they heard the story."
"When are you going to hunt them out?" asked Matt.
"Huntin' right now, son. Huntin' while we set gassin' with you. We hunts in our sleep."
"No joking, now. When are you going to get up a posse? I want to go along."
"We'll send for ye when we feel that we need ye, son. Come along, Ike. I hear Number Three whistlin' fer the crossin'. Watch the blind baggage."
CHAPTER XVIDETECTIVE MATTY
Glen managed to get back to the camp without coming under Matt's notice. His animosity had all disappeared. This one act of loyalty on Matt's part wiped out a great load of snubs and grudges. He knew that his connection with the reform school was quite generally known at the camp, for Mr. Newton himself—subsequent to the disclosures of J. Jervice—had seen fit to explain to the scouts that Glen might be considered as staying under his parole, and had further expressed his conviction that the authorities would certainly make the parole permanent in view of all the facts. An explanation made to friendly boys, however, was a vastly different thing from making one to officers who had a chance to earn a reward. He felt, therefore, that Matt had saved him from a real danger.
Chick-chick and Apple were anxiously awaiting his coming that they might complete the map which they were preparing from his recollection of the chart shown by Jervice. Mr. Newton haddecided that the information Glen had gained from the robbers' chart was his exclusive property, since it had been obtained by him while in peril of life and limb. But Glen was not disposed to take advantage of this, and with the help of Apple and Chick-chick as chartographers was preparing a chart for the free use of the entire camp.
"We have everything sketched in that you told us," said Apple. "What we want now is to be as nearly sure as possible where the big star was."
"It looked to be about half way down the side of the Mound," said Glen. "Right near it I saw marks for 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs.'"
"We've been looking along Buffalo Creek and we can't find any Twin Elms. There's only one place where two elms are anywhere near together and one of them is a great big elm, and the other a little sapling that isn't more than five years old. That would throw it out altogether as far as locating our cave."
"How about Deep Springs?"
"Well, there's the Ice Box. The Springs must be deep there because it's so cold. We used to swim there last year but it's really too cold for fun. That's just about half way down the Mound, but there's no elms anywhere near."
"How would it be to mark that for 'Deep Springs' and put the mark for 'Twin Elms' just where the two elms you speak about are?"
"An' then put big star between 'em an' everything be over but pickin' up treasure," put in Chick-chick, sarcastically.
"No, it wouldn't do," said Apple. "We don't know that Deep Springs and the Ice Box are the same and we are pretty sure Twin Elms couldn't be the old tree and the sapling. The only thing I know to do is to make the marks just like you saw them and let the scouts figure them out for themselves. If we go putting our own ideas in we will likely spoil the whole thing."
"Great head, this," endorsed Chick-chick, patting the curly head appreciatively.
They took the chart out and nailed it to a tree near the cook shack and in a few moments it was being studied by the entire troop which had just gathered for dinner.
It might well be doubted whether the chart served any purpose of enlightenment, after all. It showed certain local land marks and several crosses were designated at different spots but just what they represented was still a mystery. The principal cross was the one over which Mr. Jervice had placed his thumb, and this inclined the majorityto decide to hunt in that direction, but unfortunately it was hard to find "Twin Elms" thereabout, and the "Deep Springs" were only a matter of surmise. It had certainly served the purpose of reviving interest in the treasure hunt and mysterious rumors of a cave in which a robber band had hidden booty did not lessen it.
Will Spencer while pleased at the renewed activity was by no means sure that it would help his search.
"Think we'll have to push on back to our cornfield and do some exploring from the old bed of the lake back to its source, Glen," said he. "Gold is nothing to us. What we want is water."
"Supposing some of these scouts should find all that bullion, you'd think differently," said Glen.
Spencer laughed.
"You're having a good vacation about it," he said. "We'll stay this week out since we're both having such a good time. Next week you push your Uncle Bill and his billy cart back to Ryder's farmhouse and we begin over again."
"Any time you say," agreed Glen. "Here's Goosey looking as if he was excited about something."
"Found the treasure, son?" asked Will.
"Not yet," admitted Goosey. "But I've got an idea."
"When you're looking for treasure look for signs of old water-courses. If you find one, follow it along and see if it leads to a spring."
"What good'll that do?" asked Goosey.
"Twenty dollars' worth," replied Jolly Bill. "Twenty dollars in coin of the realm. This old buried treasure may be in such shape that you can't cash it. My money will be straight goods."
"Guess I'll find the gold the Indians stole," said Goosey. "I've got a scheme, leastways Matty's got one, and he's letting me in on it."
It was not until next day that Goosey, under pressure from Chick-chick, disclosed more of Matty's wonderful scheme.
"You know, Matty's read a lot about detecting things and he knows all about how to do it."
"Yes, we ought to know about that, Goosey. See how he found the bread box."
"Well, he admits he slipped up there. But this time it's different. He says he ain't soft enough to suppose Brick Mason is giving out information to help people find the treasure when—"
"Hold on, Goosey. Thought Matt didn't believe there was any treasure. He believes whole thing fake—Matt does."
"Well, after he talked to the deputy sheriff and found out there was a big reward offered he changed his mind. He says it ain't reasonable the Bankers' Association would offer a reward just for nothing. So then he says, of course Brick Mason's chart is a blind. Brick wants everybody to be wasting their time on a wrong scent while he goes after the real thing."
"Real clever; Matty is. Wish he was as white as Brick."
"Well, Matt's clever, anyway; no gettin' around that. What does he do to get on the right track? He goes an' hunts up the Indian—the one as told us to look for heap rock."
"Bright idea. Of course Indian wouldn't tell Matt anything but truth—he wouldn't."
"No, because Matt gave him two dollars. So Indian told him there was a cave and he wasn't sure about the treasure because he's superstitious and he's too much afraid of the dead men to look. But the cave isn't anywhere near Buffalo Creek. It's on down below."
"You mean below camp?"
"Yes, down in the woods somewhere around Vinegar Creek. You know Buffalo Creek gets pretty rapid after it passes the Ice Box. Runs down with lots of force into Vinegar Creek. It'squite a gully down there and for five dollars more the Indian's willing to show Matt the exact place."
"Worth that much to Matty?"
"Worth it! You ain't talkin' sense. Matt doesn't need money so awful bad, but there's just two things he'd like better than anything else in the world. One is to find the treasure and so kill that everlastin' joke about the bread box. T'other's to catch the bank robbers an' so show that he's the smartest boy in camp."
"That five dollars won't get him to it—it won't."
"Well, Matt's lucky this time, as it happens. He isn't going to have to pay the Indian the five. He's found a better way. Last night he went down to kinder look things over an' he found a couple o' men camping. First off he hoped they were the robbers but they're pretty nice men and they're engineers. Matt wouldn't have told them anything but when he found they were surveyin' Vinegar Creek and goin' on up to Buffalo next he could see right off that they had good chances of runnin' right into the cave, so he gets ahead of 'em by tellin' all about it and making 'em promise equal shares if they found anything."
"Clever Matty!" exclaimed Chick-chick.
"Yes, he's clever, Matty is. No good payingany five dollars to any Indian when he's got as good a thing as that. These engineers want to see our camp so Matty's to bring 'em up this afternoon while everybody's at the swim. He doesn't want the crowd around to be pestering 'em with questions."
When this information was carried to Jolly Bill he was more disturbed than he cared to acknowledge. He had a very well defined feeling that his scheme to restore Buffalo Lake had become common property and that these engineers were competitors. He felt some safety in the fact that he held options on the land; yet he had a strong desire to see this surveying corps and talk with the men about their work.
Thus it happened that Glen was in camp when the surveyors came—he stayed at Spencer's request to engineer the billy-cart. The engineers were young fellows, not overly clean; perhaps it was not to be expected in following such work. They were genial enough to the few people who were in camp. At first they did not seem inclined to pay much attention to Spencer, but after he had asked them one or two questions they began to take notice.
"Where are you running your levels for the Vinegar Creek survey?" asked Spencer.
"Running what?" said one.
"Oh, levels," said the other. "We haven't got to that yet."
"Find it rather hard to carry your lines through all that brush, don't you?"
"We will if we have to do it."
"What elevation do you work from?"
"We ain't quite decided. You see, we only just made camp. Mebbe we'll work up here first."
"You'll have to see Mr. Newton about that," said Spencer.
"We'll see him," said the spokesman. "We're going to look along up this creek a piece, now."
"Think perhaps you'll start your survey at an obtuse angle or an angle of sixty degrees, which?" asked Spencer gravely.
"Sixty degrees," replied the man, as if glad to get off so easily.
"Now, I'm quite sure they're no engineers," said Spencer to Glen as the two men followed Matt along the bank of Buffalo Creek. "I rather thought they weren't from the start, which is why I asked such foolish questions. Well, that relieves my anxiety about competition."
"What do you reckon they are?" asked Glen.
"Two farmer boys who want to work Matt for something, I suppose. We ought to warn him tobe on guard, but really I think a few lessons will do Matt lots of good."
"He did me a good turn yesterday," said Glen. "I'd like to put him next."
"You can try it," agreed Will. "But Matt is one of the class of people who would rather be fooled than warned."
Glen ran along after the trio. The noise of his approach caught Matt's ear and he turned with a look of disgust on his face.
"You aren't in on this," he exclaimed angrily. "These two men are my friends and our business is private."
"I just wanted to tell you something, Burton," said Glen. "I'll go back as soon as I've said it."
"Fire away," instructed Matt. "The quicker you get rid of it and go the way you came, the better."
"Come over here and I'll tell you."
"These men are my friends, I tell you. Whatever you have to say to me they can hear."
"They're not scouts," objected Glen.
"You're not much of a one," retorted Matt.
The words Glen had for Matt were not to be bawled into the ears of strangers, so he left the foolish boy to follow his own tactics. It was not too late for the swim and Glen was glad to haveat least a few minutes of his favorite sport.
He was dressing when some one tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up into the comical face of Chick-chick.
"Hey, Brick. Found something, I have," he announced.
"What is it?" asked Glen.
"Hssh! Not so loud! Don't want whole camp to know. It's secret. Footprints on sands of time."
"You're talking nonsense," said Glen.
"No nonsense about it. It's wheelprints 'stead o' footprints, that's all. Come an' see. I was chasin' butterfly down near Vinegar Creek an' I ran on it by accident, I did."
The two boys managed to slip away from the crowd and Chick-chick mysteriously led the way down the road in the direction of the heavy woods that marked the location of Vinegar Creek.
"While back I heard a car chuggin' along. Funny for car be down here, don't ye know. Then there's somethin' 'bout an engine's voice—every engine got voice of its own and you 'member it after you get 'quainted. Seemed to me I knew that voice. Looked at car an' didn't look like anything ever seen. Car all stripped off—nothing much left but chassis. Then I came down to roadan' looked at tracks. Wait bit. Soon be there, we will."
He led on for another hundred yards until they reached a point where an old woods trail struck out into the highway. Here Chick-chick paused.
"Look at this, Brick," he said. "Ever see tire-tracks look like that, did you?"
Glen looked at the tracks. They were exactly like those he had smoothed away when concealing the departure of the J. Jervice car at the ford.
"Verdict of Jury 'Guilty as charged'!" exclaimed Chick-chick, looking into his eyes. "Come on, Brick, let's follow 'long this old cow-path till we see our beloved car once more."
CHAPTER XVIITHE END OF THE JERVICE GANG
All that Glen could do was to follow where Chick-chick led and try to go just as noiselessly, and to flit carefully from one screen of cover to the next in just as unobtrusive a way. It was an old sport with Chick-chick, but though Glen was an amateur at it he made a very good performance.
It was not reasonable to suppose that an automobile could get very far along such a road, yet they had traveled a quarter mile before the tracks swung entirely away from the old path and followed a strip of comparatively bare ground that led in toward the creek.
"There she is!" at last Chick-chick whispered. "Don't look bit like gay old friend we left, she don't."
She did not. If it were the same car it meant that the gang, feeling that so conspicuous a mark as the J. Jervice car originally presented would be a fatal advertisement of their identity, and yet desirous of making use of the car, had strippedit clean of the betraying top and had taken away everything that could mark it for a peddler's car.
Their plan would have worked successfully but for the betraying tires, and the sharp eye and quick mind of scout Henry Henry, commonly known as Chick-chick.
"Are you sure it's the same?" whispered Glen.
"Surest thing on wheels," affirmed Chick-chick. "Bet you find drygoods in the transmission case if dare look."
"Why do you suppose they've left it here?"
"Good, safe place. Nobody see. Camp not far away, reckon. Better lay pretty low here. There's only two of us."
Late in the afternoon two tired but excited scouts found their way into camp and proceeded to disturb Mr. Newton in his afternoon study hour.
"Is it true that there's reward of five hundred dollars for the bank robbers?" one asked.
"I believe so," said Mr. Newton. "The sheriff himself and quite a few deputies are trying to earn it, too. They are covering this county and several neighboring counties, too."
"Sheriff out this way?" asked Chick-chick.
"He was in Buffalo Center this morning," replied Mr. Newton.
"We know where gang is, Mr. Newton. We want go right down get that reward, we do."
"The reward is for their apprehension, Henry. So you see you wouldn't get it, because, so far, you don't appear to have apprehended them."
Chick-chick's countenance fell, but he brightened again in a minute.
"We can do it all right, all right. Maybe better get sheriff help us."
He proceeded to tell Mr. Newton of their discovery.
"And you saw them so clearly you are quite sure they are the same men?"
"Yes, sir," replied Glen. "We located their camp by a line of smoke—leastways Chick-chick did. Then we climbed a big tree near by and looked right down on 'em. I saw Jervice and the big man, and one other man I never had seen before."
"What shall we do about this?" Mr. Newton asked of Will Spencer, who had been studying with him.
"Get 'em," replied Will, his eyes sparkling. "I wish I were more of a man, so I could help."
"Hold on, Will," said Mr. Newton, kindly. "You have just as good other work, you know. And wishing won't make you agile and activeany more than it will make these boys into grown men. What's the wise thing to do?"
"You good, old scoutmaster!" exclaimed Will. "Of course you're right. You being the only real man here the thing to do is to see if that sheriff is still at Buffalo Center."
"But you ain't going to shut us out?" cried Glen and Chick-chick in unison.
Mr. Newton and Spencer laughed at their eagerness.
"You are big fellows, both of you," said Mr. Newton. "I've no desire to rob you of your glory or reward. You must come with me to see the sheriff, or perhaps you'd better go alone on Henry's motorcycle to save time. He will have to come this way to go after the men, and I've no doubt he will want you to show the way. Perhaps he'll let me go, too. Only no foolishness, remember—no attempt at single-handed captures—no stepping in the way of a piece of heavy artillery just to show that you bear a charmed life. After you've shown the way your job will be to stay in the background."
The sheriff was still staying at Buffalo Center's little hotel. Chick-chick was disappointed to find that he did not at all come up to his ideas of a sheriff. Glen whose dealings with sheriffs hadnot been so limited was not so surprised. The sheriff was so much like the other farmers lounging around the hotel office that they had to inquire for him. There was this much to say for him—he was not big, but he looked as if he might be quick and keen.
"Better come in here," said the sheriff, leading the way into the little parlor. "Now, tell me all about it."
Glen acted as spokesman, for Chick-chick was still quite excited.
"So you're the boys that got the car away from the peddler, are ye?" asked the sheriff. "I reckon ye ought to know the car an' the man too. You was expectin' to see this man Jervice, wasn't ye?"
"We were after we saw the car," Glen agreed.
"Now, don't ye reckon that mebbe, seein' the man at a distance like an' being as you was expectin' to see Jervice an' the big man, you might just imagined they was what you saw?"
"No, sir. It wasn't possible to be mistaken. We were near enough so we could both see the man very clearly."
"Well; this other fellow, now; the one you never had seen before? What did he look like?"
"Big man," said Chick-chick. "Over six foot.Black hair, no hair on his face. I got good look once and face was all one side like this, it was."
Chick-chick drew his face to one side in a peculiar manner. Mimicry was one of his talents.
"That's the feller," said the sheriff. "If you saw him that's the gang. That was Black Coventry to the letter. There ought to be two more of 'em and the gang would be complete. You can show us the way, can you?"
The sheriff had one of his deputies with him at the hotel. He deputized two active young farmers who were present and the four started on horseback following Chick-chick's motorcycle.
They found Mr. Newton waiting at the roadside near the camp. Chick-chick began an introduction but the sheriff interrupted.
"Oh, I know Captain Newton. Remember when ye was Captain of Battery A—let's see, twelve years ago, that was. Come along of us, Captain. Ye're just the man we need an' we're short handed, anyway."
"I've no horse," objected the scoutmaster.
"Jump up back o' me. It ain't so awful far f'm what these boys say. We'll have to foot it, anyway, for quite some distance, if we want to s'prise 'em."
When the place where the wood-road turnedoff was reached the sheriff decided to leave the horses.
"One o' you boys stay here now with the deputy an' help guard these horses," instructed the sheriff. "Which'll it be?"
"I guess it's Chick-chick's find," volunteered Glen. "I'll stay."
"Keep your eyes sharp open," the sheriff instructed his deputy. "If they'd get started afore we could get to their car they might slip by us. Then, there ought to be two more of 'em somewheres around, too. Might be comin' up any minute. They're slick."
After the men had gone Glen found it anxious work waiting with the deputy and the horses while Chick-chick led the sheriff's posse to glory.
"I suppose we'll hear 'em shooting most any minute," he said to the deputy.
"Mebbe we will—mebbe we won't," replied the deputy. "We won't if things go the way the old man intends."
"How is that?" asked Glen.
"There won't be any shootin' unless they's some break in his calc'lations. His way don't make much allowance for it. He'll get up there right silent an' have his men posted convenient; then he'll step out an' say 'Come along o' me,Coventry. No good fussin'. My men got ye dead to rights.' An' mos' generally they come."
"How about the other two men?" asked Glen.
"Mebbe they're there; mebbe they ain't. It was putty clever of 'em to hide right around here, knowing they was looked for all over the country."
"Don't you suppose they're staying here so as to look for that stuff in the cave?"
"We don't take much stock in that story," said the deputy. "We don't know that they is any cave. What they was after wasn't in no river bank, it was in the bank of Buffalo Center."
He appreciated his little joke and chuckled over it very heartily. His merriment, however, did not prevent him from being the first one to see a little group coming down the main road.
"Three of 'em!" he said. "One of 'em's from your camp. Who's the other two?"
"The scout is Matt Burton," said Glen. "The other two must be the engineers that he found camping down here. Say, I'll tell you something. They aren't engineers. What's the matter with them being the other two of Jervice's gang?"
"Nothing the matter at all," said the deputy. "Lay low now, and we'll get 'em. They're looking awful suspicious like at our tracks in the road. They don't understand 'em. If they break an'run you stay here with the horses an' I'll give 'em a chase."
"They've grabbed hold of Matt as if they were going to work some rough house play with him," said Glen. "Look what they're doing."
"They think he's sold 'em out," said the deputy. "They got a notion that he's leading 'em into something."
Just then Matt, who was not deficient in courage, made a lunge at one of the men, broke loose and started to run. He was overtaken in a minute by the other man who hit him such a blow as to stretch him full length in the dust of the road.
"Hold on there, hold on," the deputy counseled Glen. "You can't do anything chasin' after 'em. Just let 'em stay here till the sheriff gets back an' he'll pick 'em up easy. Now, take a holt o' this gun. You needn't shoot it, but it'll look better if you have one. I'm goin' to sneak up a piece and get back of 'em. I'll take this rope along an' mebbe I can git it over one of 'em. I won't be far behind 'em any time. You stay here with the hosses an' if they seem like to pass along without noticing don't you so much as cheep. All you got to do is mind the hosses."
When the two men, with Matt between them,reached the turn of the road and saw that the tracks led directly to the camp they came to a dead halt. Glen could now hear distinctly what they said.
"It's a frame up," declared one. "This kid thinks he's smart leading us into a trap. Back we go. Nobody won't draw on us, neither. You go first, Jack. I'll be right next to you with my hands on your shoulders. This smart kid'll foller me the same way. They won't nobody try no gun play for fear of hittin' the kid. Jest as soon as we git out of range we'll make a streak for it, an' the kid'll go with us."
The man spoke in a loud voice undoubtedly for the benefit of some person or persons who might be supposed to be within bullet range and be desirous of picking them off from ambush rather than risk a personal encounter. Perhaps he had heard some warning noise. He had not made so bad a guess, for a good marksman, concealed in Glen's position, would have had them at his mercy.
Glen watched the peculiar parade as the three walked back up the road at a lock-step gait that was quite fast for unpracticed performers. He would have been glad to give some word of encouragement to Matt for he still remembered the good turn of the day before. But his business was to watch over the horses. It would never do to betray their hiding place to these desperate men who might overpower him and be off before the deputy could reach them.
Glen watched the three walk back up the road at a lock-step gait. Page 198Glen watched the three walk back up the road at a lock-step gait. Page 198
Where was that deputy?
He said that he would not be far behind the desperadoes at any time; but Glen had seen no sign of him since he slipped so quietly away with his long rope. He watched the marching figures going back along the road—farther away—farther yet. Soon they would be feeling safe out of range and would break and run.
Where was the deputy?
Glen found his answer even though he did not see his man. A long rope circled through the air. It fell neatly over the three close-locked heads and tightened suddenly as it dropped below their shoulders. There was a frantic struggle from the tied up trio and suddenly the deputy came into view belaying his rope to a tree.
Glen turned his eyes from this scene as he heard the noise of voices behind him. It was the sheriff's party returning. He waved his hand to them for speed and was glad to see the sheriff, Mr. Newton and Chick-chick start toward himon the run. The other members of the party were evidently convoying prisoners.
One of the men in the road had freed his hands but the deputy had persuaded him to put them above his head, and stood in the road guarding his capture as the relief party came up.
"So you got 'em?" exclaimed the sheriff. "That makes the haul complete. Our three below are coming along like lambs."
"These three," said the deputy, solemnly, "being trussed up the way they is, looks more like chickens."
"Loosen up on 'em," said Glen. "That one's a scout. You could easily tell he isn't one of 'em. Didn't you see the way they knocked him over?"
"Yes. He's a scout," confirmed Mr. Newton, coming up. "He has simply been deceived by these fellows, supposing they were honest men. I hope they haven't hurt you much, Burton."
"Hurt me!" cried Matt. "They were two to one and they knocked me down but they couldn't hurt me. Let me give this big fellow just one—"
"That'll do, young fellow," said the sheriff. "These men are in the hands of the law, now. They'll get whatever's coming to 'em."
It was a triumphant procession that wound its way back to town. Three of the prisoners wereplaced in their car which Chick-chick was called upon to engineer under the guardianship of the sheriff. This left Glen to ride the motorcycle alone. Still desirous to repay Matt's good turn he offered him passage but Matt preferred to ride the sheriff's horse. He was unable to understand or appreciate any friendly offers from Glen, for he felt that his share in the proceedings had been ludicrous if not contemptible and expected scant mercy from either Glen or Chick-chick. As a matter of fact, Glen would have been very glad to have his company, both that he might repay his good turn and that he might have the advantage of his experience in cycling, for Glen was a rank novice and found great difficulty in getting back to camp.
Chick-chick drove the car all the way to the little calaboose where the sheriff expected to confine the men until train time. The sheriff expressed himself under great obligations.
"I don't hardly know what to say about the reward, son," he said. "It'll have to split up a good many ways so there won't be an awful big slice for any one of us."
"I'll leave it to you," agreed Chick-chick, magnanimously. "Maybe you'd let me speak word to Jervice."
"Sure I will. You can talk a book into his ear if you like. But that ain't sayin' as he'll say anything to you."
The sheriff had guessed correctly. Mr. J. Jervice was singularly uncommunicative.
"What's meanin' of 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs'?" asked Chick-chick.
Mr. Jervice shook his head at such foolishness.
"You won't get any good out of it," insisted the inquisitive boy. "Give me your chart now and I'll use influence with Judge to get you easy sentence, I will."
Mr. Jervice shook his head and turned away.
"What's that young fool saying about 'Twin Elms' and 'Deep Springs'?" asked the big leader.
Mr. Jervice muttered something in reply.
"You take it from me, young feller," said the man, angrily. "The thing you'd orter do is to git them names out o' your mind. They ain't no such places."
Chick-chick went back to receive the adulation of the camp but he was not satisfied.