CHAPTER XV.THE HERMIT OF THE WOODS.
CHAPTER XV.
THE HERMIT OF THE WOODS.
“My name is Peter Bell,” began the old man, “and many years ago I was like any other happy, care-free young man, who is the son of well-to-do parents. I had a brother named James Bell, who was much younger than me. We were very fond of each other and inseparable.
“Our home was on the Long Island coast and we often went boating. One day when we were out in my boat a storm came up and she capsized. I tried to save my brother who was a poor swimmer. But in the midst of my efforts the bulwark of the wave-tossed boat struck my head and rendered me insensible. It seems, however, I must have clung to the boat, for when I came to myself I had almost been blown ashore, and, striking out, I soon reached it.
“But to my horror I soon saw that peopleshunned me. In some way the story got about that I had saved myself at the expense of my brother’s life. Such stories are always readily credited among the majority of people in a small town and the tale spread like wildfire with exaggerations. Driven half wild by the general contempt which I met on every side I left home one night, and having a sum of money in my own right I decided to live the life of a recluse.
“I recollected this spot to which I had come on hunting expeditions in brighter days. Not long after, grief over my brother’s death resulted in my mother’s life coming to a close, and shortly afterward my father’s demise occurred.
“They left but little, but I managed to secure that portrait of my brother you see hanging up there and a few bits of favorite furniture associated with happier times.
“I have lived here ever since and have become reconciled to my fate. From time to time I used to advertise for news of my brother, offering rewards, but long ago I stopped that, and haveno doubt that he perished in the storm, although for a time I comforted myself by thinking that he might, by some strange chance, have been saved.
“In some way a rumor has spread through the countryside that I have much wealth hidden here, and this afternoon four masked men entered the hut and when I protested, in reply to their demands, that I had no money, they struck me down and searched the house. Then cursing me for a fraud and an impostor because they found no gold they left, leaving me to my fate.”
“You have no idea who the men were?” asked Roy who, like Peggy, had listened with close attention to the old man’s story.
“Yes, I think they were young men of bad reputation from a neighboring village; however, I am not sure. I am certain that I recollected hearing the voice of one of them when I was in the market in that village some time ago.”
“Oh, then, you do go into town sometimes?” asked Roy.
“Oh, yes,” rejoined the hermit, “but no more than I can help. I have long since departed from the ways of the world and the habitations of men. But I gather herbs in the woods for miles about and sell them to folks in the villages.”
“I suppose that is why you have the horse and cart?” put in Peggy, who had been gazing out of the window and had noticed the tumbledown barn.
“Yes,” rejoined the old man. “I am not as active as I was once and my old bones will not carry me as far as they used to. So I drive old Dobbin when I have a journey of any length to make.”
The hermit would not hear of any help being summoned for him. He said that he was in no danger of a second attack, as the search of his little property had been thorough and had resulted in the rascals, who had invaded his haunts, getting nothing for their pains. Refusing some refreshment the old man offered, the young aviators soon after left the hut, promising to call inagain in a few days and give the hermit an opportunity to see the aeroplane in which he was much interested. The old man asked them many questions about the races of the next day and seemed interested in hearing the details.
The Golden Butterfly they found just as they had left her, and clambering on board they were soon winging their way back to Acatonick where, as you may imagine, they had an interesting story of the incidents of the afternoon to relate to Miss Prescott that evening.
“I never saw such children for adventures in all my born days,” she declared, “but I have a letter here which I must show you. I am afraid it means that we shall have to leave the old home.”
She drew an envelope from her handbag which lay on a table of the hotel room and handed it to Roy. On opening it, he found that it contained a formal notice from the Sandy Bay Bank, that unless the accumulated interest and other moneys owing them were paid up withina week that foreclosure proceedings would be taken. The boy gave a disconsolate whistle as he finished reading the letter aloud and handed it back.
He had hardly done so when there came a rap on the door of the room. “I wonder who that can be so late?” thought Roy, getting up and going to the door.
A bellboy stood there with a note.
“A messenger just brought this from the aviation grounds,” he said. “Any answer?”
“Wait a minute,” said Roy, skimming hastily through the note. It was typewritten and signed:—James Jarvis, Superintendent of Arrangements.
“Dear sir: You are requested to report at the executive tent at once. An important meeting will take place affecting the competitors in the races to-morrow.”
“Dear sir: You are requested to report at the executive tent at once. An important meeting will take place affecting the competitors in the races to-morrow.”
This was what Roy read. Then he turned to the bellboy and told the lad to inform the messengerthat he would be there as soon as possible.
“Queer though,” he said to Peggy and his aunt. “I didn’t know of any meeting that was scheduled to take place to-night. I guess it’s one that’s been called at the eleventh hour to make some arrangements.”
“That must be it,” agreed Peggy. “Shall I come with you?”
“No, thanks, sis,” rejoined the boy; “you’d better get to bed. It’s going to be an exciting day to-morrow for us all.”
The boy snatched up his cap and with a hasty good-bye, was off.
Downstairs in the lobby of the hotel he found the messenger awaiting him,—a shifty-eyed man with a blue chin. It was, in fact, Jukes Dade, who, in a different suit of clothes and with a clean shave and haircut, looked a trifle more presentable than he had earlier in the day when he made himself known to Fanning.
“This way, sir,” he said, with a fawning sort of bow.
“Out of this door is the quickest,” said Roy quickly, with a feeling that he would rather walk to the grounds alone than with such a companion.
“But we’re not going to walk, sir. The committee has sent an auto for you.”
“A car, eh?” said Roy; “well, that’s considerate of them. I’ll tell my sister. She might like to come along, too.”
The messenger shook his head.
“Sorry, sir; but we’ve got to pick up some other aviators on our way and every bit of room in the car will be taken.”
“Oh, very well, then,” said Roy, “lead on.”
The blue-chinned Dade shuffled across the lobby with a furtive air.
“Funny,” thought Roy. “I’ve seen that chap some place before, but to save my life I can’t place him.”
Cudgelling his brains to try to recall where hehad met the man, Roy passed through the hotel lobby and out into the street. In the lamplight he saw a big car standing at the curb, shaking as its ungeared engine puffed and chugged. A chauffeur, with an auto mask and goggles on, sat on the front seat. Roy got in behind in the tonneau while the messenger took his seat by the chauffeur.
He said something in a low whisper to the driver and the next instant there was a grinding whirr as the gears were connected and the car rolled forward.
“Well, they’ve got a good fast car here,” thought Roy, as the machine sped along over the roads. “At this rate we ought to be at the grounds in––”
But what was this? Surely the road they were on was not the right one. Leaning forward he touched the chauffeur on the shoulder.
“This isn’t the road to the grounds,” he said.
“Oh, yes it is,” put in the messenger; “it’s a short cut, though. Isn’t it, Fred?”
The chauffeur did not speak but merely nodded his head.
Although by no means satisfied with the explanation, Roy made no immediate comment. In the meantime they had passed the outskirts of the little town and were now whizzing along an unlighted road bordered with big trees. On and on they went, and Roy, every minute, grew more uneasy. Where could they be taking him?
“Where are you going?” he demanded suddenly, his suspicion showing in his tone as he rose in the tonneau and leaned forward. “I want you to know that––”
But before he could utter another word the blue-chinned messenger did an astonishing thing. With a quick, imperceptible movement he produced a revolver and thrust its gleaming barrel up under Roy’s nose.
“Sit back and keep quiet,” he warned, “and you’ll be all right. If you make a holler you’ll get what’s in this barker.”
As he spoke the auto began to slow down, and presently a dark form stepped from the shadows of the trees ahead and stood awaiting its coming.