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CHAPTER XVII.
ONE MYSTERY SOLVED
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Jack. "What can be the matter? It beats me. I – "
"Hey you, git out of thar. I don't know what of critter ye be, but you scared my old man nigh ter death. Scat now, er I'll shoot!"
Jack looked up toward an upper window of the farm-house, from which the voice, a high-pitched, feminine one, had proceeded. An old lady, with a determined face, stood framed in the embrasure. In her hands, and pointed straight at the mystified Jack, she held an ancient but murderous looking blunderbuss.
"It's loaded with slugs an' screws, an' brass tacks," pleasantly observed the old lady. "Jerushiah!" this to someone within the room, "stop that whimperin'. I'm goin' ter send it on its way, ghost or no ghost."
"But, madam – " stammered Jack.
"Don't madam me," was the angry reply. "Git now, and git quick!"
"This is like a bad dream," murmured Jack, but there was no choice for him but to turn and go; "maybe it is a dream. If it is I wish I could wake up."
He turned into the hot, dusty road once more. He felt faint and hungry. His mouth was dry, and he suffered from thirst, too. Before long he found a chance to slake this latter. A cool, clear stream, spanned by a rustic bridge, appeared as he trudged round a bend in the road.
"Ah, that looks good to me," thought Jack, and he hurried down the bank as fast as he could.
He bent over the stream at a place where an eddy made an almost still pool, as clear as crystal. But no sooner did his face approach the water than he gave a violent start. A hideous black countenance gazed up at him. Then, suddenly, Jack broke into a roar of laughter.
"Jerusalem! No wonder everybody was scared at me when I scare myself!" he exclaimed. "It's the soot from that chimney. Just think, it never occurred to me why they were all so alarmed at my appearance. Why, I'd make a locomotive shy off the track if it saw me coming along."
It did not take Jack long to clean up, and, while his face was still grimy when he had finished, it was not, at least, such a startling looking countenance as he had presented to those from whom he sought to find his way back to Musky Bay.
"Now that I look more presentable I guess I'll try and get some breakfast," thought the boy as, his thirst appeased, he scrambled up the bank again.
About half a mile farther along the road was the queerest-looking house Jack had ever seen. It was circular in form, and looked like three giant cheese-boxes, perched one on the top of the other, with the smallest at the top.
"Well, whoever lives there must be a crank," thought Jack; "but still, since I've money to pay for my breakfast, even a crank won't drive me away, I guess."
A man was sawing wood in the back yard and to him Jack addressed himself.
"I'd like to know if I can buy a meal here?" he said.
"No, you can't fry no eel here," said the man, and went on sawing.
"I didn't say anything about frying eels. I said 'Can I get a meal?'" shouted Jack, who now saw that the man was somewhat deaf.
"Don't see it makes no difference to you how I feel," rejoined the man.
"I'm hungry. I want to eat. I can pay," bellowed Jack.
"What's that about yer feet?" asked the deaf man.
"Not feet – eat – E-A-T. I want to eat," fairly yelled Jack.
"What do you mean by calling me a beat?" angrily rejoined the deaf man.
"I didn't. Oh, Great Scott, everything is going wrong to-day," cried Jack. Then he cupped his hands and fairly screeched in the man's ear.
"Can I buy a meal here?"
A light of understanding broke over the other's face.
"Surely you can," he said. "Araminta – that's my wife – 'ull fix up a bite fer yer. Why didn't you say what you wanted in the fust place?"
"I did," howled Jack, crimson in the face by this time; "but you didn't hear me. You are deaf."
"Wa'al, I may be a little hard o' hearing, young feller," admitted the man, "but I hain't deef by a dum sight."
Jack didn't argue the point, but followed him to the house, where a pleasant-faced woman soon prepared a piping hot breakfast. As he ate and drank, Jack inquired the way to Musky Bay.
"It ain't far," the woman told him, "five miles or so."
"Can I get anyone to drive me back there?" asked Jack, who was pretty well tired out by this time.
"Oh, yes; Abner will drive you over fer a couple of dollars."
She hurried out to tell her husband to hitch up. Jack could hear her shouting her directions in the yard.
"All right. No need uv speaking so loud. I kin hear ye," Jack could hear the deaf man shouting back. "I kin hear ye."
"Just think," said the woman when she came back into the kitchen, where Jack had eaten, "Abner won't admit he's deef one bit. At church on Sundays he listens to the sermon just as if he understood it. If anyone asks him what it was about, he'll tell 'um that he doesn't care to discuss the new minister, but he's not such a powerful exhorter as the old one. He's mighty artful, is Abner."
The rig was soon ready and Jack was on his homeward way. To his annoyance, Abner proved very talkative and required answers to all his remarks.
"Gracious, I'll have no lungs left if I have to shout this way all the way home," thought Jack. "It'll be Husky Bay. If ever I drive with Abner again, I'll bring along some cough lozenges."
"Must be pretty tough to be really, down-right deef," remarked Abner, after Jack had roared out answers to him for a mile and a half.
"It must be," yelled Jack.
"Yes, sir-ee," rejoined Abner, wagging his head. "I'm just a trifle that er-way, and it bothers me quite a bit sometimes, 'specially in damp weather. Gid-ap!"
CHAPTER XVIII.
BILL SNIGGERS DECIDES
We left Billy Raynor in a most unpleasant position. With escape from the cave within his grasp the way was blocked, it will be recalled, by some wild beast, the nature of which Billy did not know. His torch, made from the withered bush that was responsible for his dilemma, was burning low. Just in front of him glowed two luminous green eyes.
While Billy stood there hesitating, the creature gave another of its alarming growls. Hardly thinking what he was doing, Billy, startled by a shrill caterwaul, which followed the growl, flung his lighted torch full at the eyes, and heard a screech that sounded as if his blazing missile had struck its mark.
There was a swift patter of feet and the eyes vanished.
"Great Christmas, I've scared the creature off," said Billy to himself, with a sigh of relief; "a lucky thing I had that torch."
He walked forward more boldly. The evident alarm of the animal that had scared him, when the torch struck, convinced the boy that there was no more danger to be feared from it. In a few seconds more he was out in the open air and on a hillside.
It was still pitch dark, but the stars seemed to be growing fainter. Billy drew out his watch and, striking a match, looked at it. The hands pointed to three-thirty.
"It will be daylight before long," thought Billy. "If I start walking now I will only lose myself. I'll wait till it gets light and then try to get my bearings."
Never had dawn come so slowly as did that one, in the opinion of the tired and impatient lad. But at last the eastern sky grew faintly gray and then flushed red, and another day was born. In the growing light, Billy stood up and looked about him. The bay or any familiar landmarks were not in sight. Billy was in a quandary. But before long he came to a decision.
"I'll strike out for a main road," he decided; "if I can find one, that will bring me to where I can get some information, at any rate."
With this end in view, he scrambled down the hillside and found himself in some fields. After a half-hour's walk across these, he saw, with delight, that he had not miscalculated his direction. A road lay just beyond a brush hedge.
Billy made his way through a gap and struck off, in what he was tolerably sure was the way to Musky Bay. If he had but known it, however, he was proceeding in an exactly opposite direction. He had walked about a mile when another foot passenger hove in sight.
The lad was glad of this at first, for, although he had walked some distance, he had not passed a house, nor had any vehicles come by. But a second glance at the man who was coming toward him made him by no means so pleased at his appearance. The other foot passenger was a heavily built man with a lowering brow. He wore clothes that savored of a nautical character.
"Hullo, there, young feller," he said, as he halted to allow Billy to come up to him.
"Good morning," said Billy. "I am trying to find my way to Musky Bay. Can you direct me?"
The other looked at the boy with a glance of quick suspicion. "Livin' there?" he asked.
"Yes, that is to say, I'm staying there with friends."
"Umph! I know a crowd of folks there. Who you stopping with?"
Before Billy realized what he was saying he had made a fatal slip.
"With Captain Simms – that is," he hurried on, in an effort to correct his blunder, "I – "
"Know a kid named Ready – Jack Ready?"
"Why, yes, he's my best friend. He – here, what's the matter?"
The other had suddenly drawn a pistol and held it pointed unwaveringly at Billy.
"Jerk up yer hands, boy, and get 'em up quick!" he snarled.
Billy had no recourse but to obey. The man facing him was a hard-looking enough character to commit any crime. With a sudden pang Billy recalled that he was wearing the handsome watch – one of which had been given both to Jack and himself for services they had performed for a high official in Holland, when they rescued the latter's wife and daughter from robbers who had held up the ladies' automobile.
He saw the man's eyes fixed on the chain with a greedy glare. "Hand over that watch," he ordered.
Billy did as he was told. Then came another order while the pistol was pointed unwaveringly at him.
"Now come across with your cash."
Billy handed over what money he possessed – about fifteen dollars. The rest was in a New York bank, and some in a safe at the hotel.
The man looked at the inscription on the watch.
"William Raynor, eh? Your friend was talking about you just before we had to – "
All his fear was forgotten as the man spoke. His tones were sinister. Billy realized, like a flash, that this man was an ally of the Judsons, and must have had a hand in Jack's disappearance.
"Had to what?" Billy demanded. "You don't mean that you committed any act of violence?"
"Well, I'm not sayin' as to that," rejoined the other, who, as our readers will have guessed, was Bill Sniggers, "you'll find out soon enough."
The man was deliberately torturing Billy.
Soon after Jack's escape, Judson had awakened, and had been the first to discover that the boy had got away. A hasty and angry consultation followed, and it had been decided to send Bill, who was not known by sight in the vicinity, out to scout and see if the hunt for the missing boy was up. His astonishment at running into Billy was great. At first, till the boy spoke of Musky Bay, Bill, who was an all-around scoundrel, merely regarded him as a favorable object of robbery when he spied his gold watch chain. Now, however, the boy was a source of danger.
"Come over here, and I'll tell you all about it," said Bill. "Oh, you needn't be scared. I won't hurt you. I got all I wanted off of you. You see your friend got a little uppish after we carried him off, and so we had —to hit him this way!"
The last words were spoken quickly and were accompanied by a terrific blow aimed at Billy's chin. The boy sank in the roadway without a moan. He lay white and apparently lifeless, while Bill, with a satirical grin on his face, regarded him.
"Well, you won't come to life this little while, young feller," he muttered. "I'll just put you over this hedge for safekeeping, so as you won't attract undue attention, and then be on my way."
He picked the unconscious boy up as if he had been a feather and placed him behind the hedge. Then, with unconcern written on his brutal face, the rascal walked on. He was bound for a neighboring village to get provisions; for, till they knew how the land lay, none of the Judson gang dared to leave the deserted house. Bill, in his rough clothes, would attract little or no attention. But the others were smartly dressed and wore jewelry, and Donald had on yachting clothes. Had they been seen they could not have failed to be noticed in that simple community.
"This must be my lucky day," muttered Bill, as he walked along. "I got my pay for that job last night, and now I've got a gold watch and chain and fifteen dollars beside. Tell you what, Bill, old-timer, I won't go back to that old house again. I'll just leave that bunch up there, and beat it out of these parts in my motor-boat. That's what I'll do – go, while the goin's good, because I kin smell trouble coming sure as next election."
CHAPTER XIX.
WHAT A "HAYSEED" DID
Billy opened his eyes. His head swam dizzily, and he felt sick and faint. The hot sun was beating down on him, but at first he thought he was at home and in bed. Then he began to remember. He sat up, and then, not without an effort, rose to his feet dizzily.
"Where on earth am I?" he thought. "And what happened? Let's see what time it is."
But his watch pocket was empty, and then full recollection of what had occurred came back to him. He was still rather painfully trying to regain the road when he heard the sound of a voice. It was a very loud voice, even though the owner of it was not yet in sight.
"Looks like we might have rain. I said it looks like we might have a shower."
Then another voice – a boyish one – shouted back:
"YES – IT – DOES."
"Gid-ap," came in the first voice, and then came hoof-beats and the rumble of wheels. The next minute a ramshackle, two-seated rig, with a man and a boy on the front seat, came into sight. Billy gave one long stare, as one who doubted the evidence of his own eyes. Then he broke into a glad shout:
"Jack!"
"Billy, old fellow, what in the world? Why, you're white as a sheet."
With alarm on his face, Jack sprang out, as Abner stopped the rig, and rushed toward Billy.
"How did you get here? What has happened?" demanded Jack.
Billy told his story in as few words as possible.
"Oh, the rascal," broke out Jack, when Billy described the hold-up. "That was Bill Sniggers. He's the man who led the way to the stone house – but get in and I'll tell you my story as we go along."
"Where are you going?"
"Back to Musky Bay; but a few hours ago I didn't think I'd ever see it again."
Jack had to shout both his story and Billy's for Abner's benefit. But he gave them in highly condensed versions, as his sorely taxed vocal organs had almost reached the limit of their strength. He had just reached the conclusion, having been interrupted several times by Abner's exclamations, when, ahead of them, on the road, they spied a figure shuffling along in the dust. The two boys were on the rear seat of the rig, so that the man, when he saw the rig approaching, having turned his head at the sound of hoofs, did not see the boys.
"Reckon that feller means ter ask fer a ride," remarked Abner, as a bend in the road ahead screened the man from view for a few minutes.
A sudden idea had come into Jack's head.
"Let him have it," he said; "and then drive to the nearest village and up to the police station. I'll pay you well for it."
"But – but – who is he?" demanded Abner, stopping his horse.
"Bill Sniggers, the rascal who is in league with Judson."
"Great hemlock! You bet I'll pick him up right smart. But he'll see you boys and scare."
"No, we'll hide in here," and Jack raised a leather flap that hung from the back seat. "It will be a tight fit, but there'll be room."
"Wa'al, if that don't beat all," said Abner. "Git in thar, then, and then the show kin go on."
As Jack had said, it was a "tight fit" in the recess under the seat, but, as Abner's rig had been made to take produce to market, there was a sort of extension at the back, which gave far more room than would ordinarily have been the case. Pretty soon the boys, in their hiding-place, felt the rig come to a stop. Then came a voice both recognized as Bill's.
"Say, gimme a ride, will yer?"
"Did ye say my harness was untied?"
"No, I said gimme a ride," roared Bill, at the top of his powerful lungs.
"Oh, all right. Git in. Whoa thar', consarn yer (this to the horse). Whar yer goin'?"
"Nearest village. I'm campin' up the bay. I want to get some grub," shouted Bill.
"Yer a long ways frum ther river," remarked Abner.
"Maybe; but I reckon that ain't your business," growled Bill.
"Not ef you don't want ter tell it, 'tain't," said Abner apologetically. He had heard enough of Bill's character not to argue with him.
"That's a nice-looking watch you've got there," the boys heard Abner say pleasantly.
There was a pause and then Bill roared out:
"What's that to you if it is?"
"Oh, nothing, only I jest saw that printing on it, and calkilated it might have bin a present to yer."
Jack could almost see Bill hurriedly thrusting the watch back into his pocket. Then, after a little while, he spoke again.
"Didn't see nothing of a kid back there in the road, did yer?"
"He means you, Billy," whispered Jack.
"No, I didn't see nothing of nobody," was Abner's comprehensive rejoinder.
There was a long silence, during which the boys sweltered in their close confinement. But they would have gone through more than that for the sake of what they hoped to bring about – the apprehension of at least one of Judson's aides.
"Getting near a village?" asked Bill presently.
"Yep; 'bout half a mile more," rejoined Abner.
In a short time the rig began to slacken its pace. Then it stopped.
"Here, what's this?" the boys heard Bill exclaim. "You're stopping in front of a police station."
"Sure. The chief is Araminta's – that's my wife – cousin. I'm goin' in ter see him a minit. Hold the horse, will yer, he's a bit skittish."
The boys heard Abner get out, and then an eternity seemed to elapse. Then a door banged and a sharp voice snapped out:
"Throw up your hands, gol ding yer. I'm the chief uv perlice, an' I arrest ye fer ther robbery of one gold watch and assault and batt'ry."
"Confound it, the old hayseed led me into a trap!" exclaimed Bill.
He threw himself out of the rig and started to run. But, as he did so, Jack and Billy, who had crawled out from the back, suddenly appeared. Bill gave a wild shout, and the next instant he was sprawling headlong in the dusty street, while a crowd came rushing from all directions.
Jack had tripped him by an old football trick. With an oath the desperado reached for his revolver. But, before he could reach it, he was pinioned by a dozen pairs of hands, and marched, struggling and swearing, into the police station.
He was searched, and Billy's watch found on him, as well as the money. Then he was locked up. He refused to give any information about the Judsons, in which he showed his astuteness, for, if they had been caught, his plight would have been worse than it was, for they would have been certain to implicate him deeply. So he contented himself by saying that he knew nothing about them. They had hired him to help the elder Judson recover his nephew from another uncle, who had treated him badly. He knew nothing more about the case, he declared, except that, after Jack's escape, the Judsons had left for New York. (It may be said here that he was eventually found guilty of the theft and the assault and received a jail sentence.)
Abner was well rewarded for the clever way he had brought about Bill's capture; and, well pleased with the way everything had come out, the boys resumed their journey.
"I hope Abner will invest part of what I gave him in an ear-trumpet," said Jack, as they entered Musky Bay.
"I hope so," laughed Billy. He was going to add something, but a shout stopped him.
"There's Captain Simms and Noddy," shouted Jack, as the two came running toward the vehicle. There is no need to go into the details of the reunion, or to relate what anxious hours the captain and Noddy had gone through after their discovery that the boys had vanished. If they had not reappeared when they did, Captain Simms was preparing to organize posses and make a wide search for them, as well as enlisting the aid of the authorities. In the vague hope that the Judsons and Jarrow might have remained in the stone house, waiting Bill's return, a party searched it next day, under the guidance of a native who knew the trail to it. But it was empty. A search for the black motor boat, too, resulted in nothing being found of her.
As a matter of fact, not many minutes after Bill, from whom they wished to be separated, had left the house, the Judsons – father and son – and Jarrow, had made all speed to the point where the motor craft had been left and had hastily made off in her. They knew that the search for Jack would be hot and wished to get as far away from Bill as he treacherously wished to get from them. In their case there was certainly none of the proverbial honor among thieves.
The black motor boat was left at Clayton and afterward claimed by a relative of Bill, who, by reason of "circumstances over which he had no control," was unable to claim her himself. As for the Judsons, they vanished, leaving no trace behind them. The same was the case with Jarrow.
A message had been sent to Uncle Toby, telling him of the reason for the boys' delay at Musky Bay, via a small mail steamer that plied those waters. His reply was characteristic:
"Them buoys is as hard to hurt as gotes, and as tuff as ship's biskit on a Cape Horner. Best wishes to awl. Awl well here at eight bells.
"Cap'n Toby Ready,
"Inventor and Patentee of the Universal Herb Medicine, Guaranteed to Cure All Ills, Both of Man and Quadruped."
