Kitabı oku: «Dave Porter on Cave Island: or, A Schoolboy's Mysterious Mission», sayfa 8

CHAPTER XV – SOMETHING ABOUT WHITE MICE

Dunston Porter and the boys were to go to New York City and there transfer to Jersey City for the train bound South. All had comfortable seats together.

“It’s going to be quite a trip,” said Roger, as he settled back to gaze at the swiftly-moving panorama of fields covered with snow.

“Yes, and we are going to journey from winter into summer,” added Phil. “It’s good we remembered that when we packed our suit-cases. At first I was going to put in nothing but heavy clothing.”

“I am glad we heard from Luke,” said Dave. “That gives us a little to work on. I hope the Emma Brown, or whatever her name may be, hasn’t sailed yet.”

“Won’t Merwell and Jasniff be surprised if we do locate them?” said the senator’s son. “I suppose they think we are at home.”

The car was only half-filled with passengers, so the boys and Dunston Porter had plenty of room, and they moved around from one seat to another. So the time passed quickly enough, until they rolled into the Grand Central Station, in New York.

“Well, little old New York looks as busy as ever,” was Phil’s comment, as they stepped out on the street. “Are we to transfer to Jersey City at once?”

“Yes,” answered Dunston Porter. “We’ll take the subway and the river tube, and get there in no time.”

Riding through the tube under the Hudson River was a new experience for the lads and they rather enjoyed it. The train of steel cars rushed along at a good rate of speed, and almost before they knew it, they were in New Jersey and being hoisted up in an elevator to the train-shed.

“Coast Line Express!” was the cry at one of the numerous gates to the tracks, and thither the party hurried. Willing porters took their baggage, and a minute later they found themselves in an elegant Pullman car. Dunston Porter had telegraphed ahead for sleeping accommodations, and they had two double seats opposite each other, directly in the middle of the car.

“All aboard!” sang out the conductor, about ten minutes later, and then the long train rolled slowly from the big train-shed, and the trip to Florida could be said to have fairly begun.

“Do we go by the way of Philadelphia and Washington?” asked Phil, who had not taken the time to study the route.

“Yes,” answered Dunston Porter. “Here is a time-table. That will show you the whole route and tell you just when we get to each place.”

“Will we have to make any changes?” asked Roger.

“None whatever.”

Soon the train had left Jersey City behind and a little later it stopped at Newark, and then sped on towards Philadelphia. By this time it had grown too dark to see the landscape and the boys and Dunston Porter retired.

On and on through the long night rolled the train, keeping fairly close to the Atlantic sea-coast. With nothing to do, the boys did not arise until late in the morning. They found Dave’s uncle in the lavatory ahead of them, indulging in the luxury of a shave with a safety razor.

“Well, how are you feeling?” asked Dunston Porter.

“Fine!” cried Dave.

“Couldn’t feel better,” added the senator’s son.

“Ready for a big breakfast?”

“I am,” answered Phil, promptly. “Gracious, but traveling makes me hungry!”

They had to wait a little before they could get seats together in the dining-car and they amused themselves by gazing at the settlements through which they were passing. Here and there were numerous cabins, with hordes of colored children playing about.

“This is the Southland, true enough,” observed Dave. “Just see how happy those pickaninnies seem to be!”

“Yes, one would almost envy their care-free dispositions,” answered Dunston Porter. “Their manner shows that it doesn’t take money to make one happy.”

They had passed through Richmond and were now on their way to Emporia. It was growing steadily warmer, and by noon all were glad enough to leave the car and go out on the observation platform at the end of the train.

The next stop was at Fayetteville and after that came Charleston. Long before this the snow had disappeared and the fields looked as green as in the fall at home.

“We’ll be at Jacksonville when you wake up in the morning,” said Dunston Porter, as they turned into their berths the second night on the train.

“Good! We can’t get there any too quick for me!” answered Dave.

“You mustn’t expect too much, Dave. You may be bitterly disappointed,” remarked his uncle, gravely.

“Oh, we’ve just got to catch Merwell and Jasniff, Uncle Dunston!”

“Yes, but they may not be guilty. You’ll have to go slow about accusing them.”

“Well, I want to catch them and question them anyway. I can have them detained on the old charge, you know – that is, if they try to get away from me.”

Dave and Phil slept on one side of the car, with Dunston Porter and Roger on the other. As the steam heat was still turned on, it was uncomfortably warm, and as a consequence Dave was rather restless. He tumbled and tossed in his berth, which was the upper one, and wished that the night were over and that they were in Jacksonville.

“Oh, pshaw! I really must get some sleep!” he told himself. “If I don’t, I’ll be as sleepy as an owl to-morrow and not fit to hunt up those rascals. Yes, I must go to sleep,” and he did what he could to settle himself.

He had just closed his eyes when a peculiar noise below him made him start up. Phil was thrashing around wildly.

“What’s the matter, Phil?” he asked, in a low tone.

“Something is in my berth, some animal, or something!” answered the shipowner’s son. “I can’t go to sleep for it. Every time I lie down it begins to move.”

“Maybe it’s a rat.”

“Whoever heard of a rat in a sleeping-car?” snorted Phil.

“Perhaps you were dreaming. I didn’t hear anything,” went on Dave.

“No, I wasn’t dreaming – I heard it as plain as day.”

“Better go to bed and forget it, Phil,” and then Dave lay down again. The shipowner’s son grumbled a little under his breath, then turned off his electric light, and sank on his pillow once more.

Dave remained quiet for several minutes and then sat bolt upright and gave a low cry. There was no mistake about it, something had moved over his feet and given him a slight nip in the toe.

“Phil!” he called, softly. “Did you do that? Come, no fooling now. This is no place for jokes.”

“Do what?”

“Pinch me in the toe.”

“I haven’t touched your toe. How can I from the lower berth?”

“Well, something nipped me.”

“Maybe it’s you who are dreaming this trip, Dave,” returned the shipowner’s son, with pardonable sarcasm.

Dave did not reply, for just then he felt something moving in the blanket. He made a clutch for it. A little squeak followed.

“I’ve got it, Phil!”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know yet – it’s in the blanket.”

“Oh, what a noise!” came from the berth beyond. “Cannot you young men be quiet?” It was a woman who was speaking. She was an elderly person and Dave had noticed, during the day, that she was rather sour-looking.

“Sorry, madam, but I’ve just caught something in my berth,” answered Dave. “I’ll turn up the light and see what it is,” he added, as he held on to the object in the blanket with one hand and turned on the electric illumination with the other.

The cries and talking had awakened half a dozen people and the sleepy porter came down the aisle to find out what was wrong.

“It’s a mouse – a white mouse!” cried Dave, as the little creature was uncovered.

“Wot’s dat, a mouse!” exclaimed the porter. “Nebber heard of sech a t’ing! How did he git yeah?”

“Don’t ask me,” replied Dave. “Ugh! he nipped me in the toe, too!”

“Here’s another one!” roared Phil. “Ran right across my arm! Take that, you little imp!” he added, and bang! one of his shoes hit the woodwork of the car.

“A mouse!” shrieked the elderly woman. “Did you say a mouse, young man?”

“I did – and there is more than one, too,” answered Dave, for he had felt another movement at his feet. He lost no time in scrambling up, and Phil followed.

By this time the whole sleeping-car was in an uproar. Everybody who heard the word “mouse” felt certain one of the creatures must be in his or her berth.

“Porter! porter! save me!” screamed the elderly lady. “Oh, mice, just think of it!” And wrapping her dressing-gown around her, she leaped from her berth and sped for the ladies’ room. Others also got up, including Dunston Porter and Roger.

“What am I going to do with this fellow?” asked Dave, as he held the mouse up in his vest.

“Better throw it out of a window,” suggested his uncle. “Mice in a sleeper! This is certainly the limit!” he muttered. “The railroad company better get a new system of cleaning.”

“Mice!” screamed a young lady. “Oh, I shall die!” she shrieked, and looked ready to faint.

“Shoot ’em, why don’t you?” suggested a fat man, who came forth from his berth wearing a blanket, Indian fashion.

By this time Phil had caught one of the creatures. Both he and Dave started for the rear of the car, to throw the mice off the train.

“Stop! stop! I beg of you, don’t kill those mice!” came suddenly from a tall, thin young man who had been sleeping in a berth at the end of the car. Dave had noticed him during the day and had put him down as a preacher or actor.

“Why not?” asked our hero.

“They are mine, that’s why,” said the man. “I would not have them killed for a thousand dollars!”

“Say, wot yo’-all talkin’ about?” demanded the porter. “Dem mice yours?”

“Yes! yes! Oh, please do not kill them!” pleaded the tall, thin man. “They won’t hurt anybody, really they won’t.”

“Say, are them white mice educated?” demanded the fat man.

“Indeed they are – I educated them myself,” answered the other man. “I spent months in doing it, too. They are the best-educated white mice in the United States,” he added, proudly.

CHAPTER XVI – PICKING UP THE TRAIL

The announcement that the mice that had been caught in the car were educated filled the boys with interest, but it did not lessen their indignation nor that of the other passengers.

“The idea of mice on the train, even if they are educated!” shrilled the elderly lady.

“It’s outrageous!” stormed another lady. “I never heard of such a thing in all my life!”

“Say, you must take this for a cattle train!” remarked the fat man, bluntly. “If you do, you’ve got another guess coming.”

“Oh, my dear, sweet mice,” said the tall, slim man, as he took the animal from Dave and also the one that Phil was holding. “That is King Hal and this one is President Tom! They are both highly educated. They can – ”

“Say, howsoeber did yo’-all git dem trash in dis cah!” demanded the porter.

“I – er – I had them in a cage in my – er – in my suit-case,” the owner of the mice answered, and now his voice faltered. “I really didn’t think they would get out.”

“We don’t allow no mice in de sleepin’-cahs!” stormed the porter. “Dogs, an’ cats, an’ parrots, an’ mice goes in de baggage-cah.”

“Are there any more of them loose?” asked one of the ladies.

“I will see!” cried the tall, slim man. “I forgot about that! Oh, I hope they are safe! If they are not, what shall I do? I have an engagement in Jacksonville, and another in St. Augustine, to fill.”

“Do you show ’em on the stage?” snorted the fat man.

“To be sure. Haven’t you heard of me, Professor Richard De Haven, the world-famous trainer of mice, rats, and cats? I have exhibited my mice in all the countries of the world, and – ”

“Never mind that just now,” interrupted Dunston Porter. “Go and see if the others are safe, otherwise we’ll have to round up your live-stock before we go to sleep again.”

“Oh, I shall never sleep another wink in this car!” sighed a lady.

“I shall!” snorted the fat man, “or else get the price of my berth out of that chap, or the railroad company!”

Professor De Haven ran to his berth and dragged forth a dress-suit-case. A moment later he uttered a genuine howl of dismay.

“They are all gone!”

“How many?” queried Dave, who had followed him.

“Sixteen of them, not counting the two I have here now! O dear, what shall I do?” And the professor wrung his hands in despair.

“Sixteen mice at large!” shrieked one of the ladies. “Oh, stop the train! I want to get off!”

“Can’t stop no train now,” answered the porter. “We’se got to jest catch dem mice somehow, but I dunno how it’s gwine to be done,” he went on, scratching his woolly head in perplexity.

“I’ve got a shotgun along,” suggested the fat man. “Might go gunning with that.”

“I’ll get my cane,” said another man.

“I guess the ladies better retire to the next car,” suggested a third passenger.

“Yes, yes, let us go, at once!” cried the elderly lady. “Porter, can I get a berth there?”

“Sorry, missus, but I dun reckon all de berths on dis yeah train am tooken.”

“See here!” cried Dave, to Professor De Haven. “If the mice are educated, can’t you call them to you in some way?”

“To be sure!” cried the professor, struck by the idea. “Why did I not think of that myself? I was too upset to think of anything. Yes, I can whistle for them.”

“Whistle for ’em?” snorted the fat man.

“Yes, yes! I always whistle when I feed them. Please be quiet. I shall have to whistle loudly, for the train makes such a noise and it may be some of my dear pets may not hear me!”

“Humph! Then you better whistle for all you’re worth!” returned the man of weight.

Walking slowly up and down the sleeping-car Professor De Haven commenced to whistle in a clear, steady trill. He kept this up for fully a minute and by that time several white mice had shown themselves. They were somewhat scared, but gradually they came to him and ran up on his shoulders.

“Well, doesn’t that beat the Dutch!” whispered Roger, half in admiration.

“I shouldn’t have been so scared if I had known they were educated,” returned Phil.

“Hush!” said Dave. “Give him a chance to gather them all in.”

Placing the captured mice in their cage, the professor moved up and down the car once more, opening the berth curtains as he did so. He continued to emit that same clear trill, and soon his shoulders were full of the white mice.

“Only one is missing, little General Pinky,” he announced.

“Spit, spat, spow! Where did Pinky go?” murmured Phil.

“Ha! I have him! Dear little Pinky!” cried the professor, as the mouse dropped onto his shoulder from an upper berth. “Now I have them all, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced. “You can go to sleep without alarm. I shall take good care that they do not get away again.”

“I dun reckon I’se gwine to take care of dat!” put in the porter. “Dem mice am gwine into de baggage-cah dis minit!”

“But, my dear fellow – ” broke in the professor.

“I ain’t a-gwine to argy de question, mistah. Da is gwine in de baggage-cah!” And the porter reached out and caught hold of the cage containing the mice.

“Then I shall go with them,” answered the professor, resignedly.

“Suit yo’ self, sah.”

“But they wouldn’t hurt a flea!”

“Can’t help it, sah, it’s de baggage-cah fo’ dis collection of wild animals,” answered the porter, striding off with the cage in his hands, while the professor followed.

“Talk about something happening!” burst out Roger, when the excitement was over. “This was the funniest experience I ever had.”

“I am sure I don’t see anything funny about it!” snapped the elderly lady, who overheard the remark. “I think that man ought to be prosecuted!”

“He didn’t expect his mice to get loose,” said Dunston Porter. “Just the same, he had no right to bring them in here. As the porter said, all animals must go in the baggage-car.”

“Wonder if he’ll come back,” mused Phil.

“I doubt it,” answered Dave. “Well, now I’m going to try to get a little sleep,” he added, as he climbed back into his berth. The others followed suit, and presently one after another dropped into slumber. It may be added here that Professor De Haven did not show himself again while on the train, he being afraid of the indignation of those who had been disturbed by his educated mice.

Early the following morning found our friends in the city of Jacksonville, which, as my readers must know, is located on the St. John’s River. They did not wait for breakfast but hurried at once in the direction of the Hotel Castor, once a leading hostelry of the city, but which had seen its best day.

“Quite a town,” remarked the senator’s son, as they passed along.

“Jacksonville is now the main city of Florida,” replied Dunston Porter. “It is a great shipping center, and is also well-known as a winter resort.”

“How balmy the weather is!” was Phil’s comment. “Just like spring at home!”

Dave’s uncle had been in Jacksonville several times and knew the way well. Soon they reached the hotel, and with his heart beating loudly, Dave hurried up to the desk and asked the clerk if Link Merwell and Nick Jasniff were stopping there.

“Never heard of them,” replied the clerk, after thinking a moment.

“I have photographs, perhaps you can tell them from that,” went on Dave, and he drew from his pocket two photographs, taken at different times at Oak Hall. Each showed a group of students, and in one group was Merwell and in the other Jasniff.

The clerk looked at the pictures closely.

“What is this, some joke?” he asked, suspiciously.

“No, it is a matter of great importance,” answered Dave. “We must find those two young men if we possibly can.”

“Well, if they are the pair who were here some days ago, you are too late. But their names weren’t what you said.”

“What did they call themselves?” asked Dunston Porter.

“John Leeds and Samuel Cross,” answered the clerk. “They had Room 87, and were here two days.”

“Do you know where they went to?” asked Phil.

“I do not.”

“Can you tell me anything at all about them?” went on Dave. “It is very important, indeed.”

“I might as well tell you,” put in Mr. Porter, in a low voice. “They were a pair of criminals.”

“You don’t say! Well, do you know, I didn’t much like their looks,” returned the clerk. “And come to think of it, one acted rather scared-like, the fellow calling himself Leeds – this one,” and he pointed to the picture of Link Merwell.

“And you haven’t any idea where they went to?”

“Not the slightest. They simply paid their bill and went away.”

“Did they have any trunks sent off?” asked Roger. “We might find the expressman,” he explained, to the others.

“No, they had nothing but hand baggage.”

“What – can you remember that?” questioned Dave.

“Yes, each had a suit-case and a small valise, – kind of a tool-bag affair.”

“Better look for that schooner, Dave,” said his uncle, in a low voice, and in a few minutes more they left the hotel, telling the clerk that they might be back.

“Shall we get breakfast now?” questioned the senator’s son. He was beginning to grow hungry.

“You can get something to eat if you wish, Roger,” answered Dave. “I am going to try to locate that schooner first.”

“No, I’ll wait too, then,” said Roger.

The shipping along the St. John’s River at Jacksonville is rather extensive. But Dunston Porter knew his business and went direct to one of the offices where he knew he could find out all about the ships going out under charter and otherwise.

“We want to find out about a schooner named the Emma Brown, or Black, or Jones, or some common name like that,” said Dave’s uncle, to the elderly man in charge. “She was in this harbor several days ago. I don’t know if she has sailed or not.”

“Emma Brown, eh?” mused the shipping-clerk. “Never heard of such a schooner.”

“Maybe she was the Emma Black, or Emma Jones,” suggested Dave.

“No schooner by that name here, – at least not for the past month or two. We had an Emma Blackney here about six weeks ago. But she sailed for Nova Scotia.”

“Well, try to think of some ship that might be named something like what we said,” pleaded Dave. “This is very important.”

“A ship that might have sailed from here in the past two or three days,” added Roger.

The elderly shipping-clerk leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair, thoughtfully.

“Maybe you’re looking for the Emma Brower,” he said. “But she isn’t a schooner, she’s a bark. She left this port yesterday morning.”

“Bound for where?” asked Dave, eagerly.

“Bound for Barbados.”

“Where is that?” questioned Phil. “I’ve heard of the place, but I can’t just locate it.”

“It’s an island of the British West Indies,” answered Dunston Porter. “It lies about five hundred miles southeast of Porto Rico.”

“If that’s the case, then good-by to Merwell and Jasniff,” murmured Phil. “We’ll never catch them in the wide world.”