Fred Fenton on the Crew Part 10

"Yes, that must have been the entering wedge," Mr. Fenton remarked, nodding his approval of the girl's idea. "It set Hiram to thinking; and once a wavering man does that, the good in him gets a chance. But come, this doesn't look like supper. I didn't think I was one bit hungry; but now I'm fairly ravenous."

"And the splendid news has taken my desire to eat away," Mrs. Fenton said; but she immediately started to get the meal on the table, her face radiant with the new happiness that had come.

At the table Fred was seized with a sudden thought, pursuing which he turned to his sister to ask a few questions.

"Do you remember who gave the letter to you at the office, Kate; was it that red-headed clerk, Sam Smalling?"

"Why, to be sure; he always hands out the mail at the General Delivery window," she replied, without hesitation.

"He's an inquisitive sort of a fellow, I've found," Fred went on; "and I've even seen him reading post cards that pa.s.s through. Stop and think, Kate, did he mention the fact to you that you were getting a _foreign_ letter this time?"

"Why, yes, that is just what he did, Fred," Kate answered quickly; "how could you guess such a thing now?"

"Oh! I just remembered hearing him make remarks to several persons when they came for mail, which told me Mr. Sam Smalling kept tabs on about all that went on in Riverport. It must keep his brain working all the time, trying to remember when Susie Green expects a letter from her aunt away up in Basking Ridge; and if Eph Smith has written home to his ma regularly once a month. But joking aside, sis, what did he say to you about it?"

"Why, as near as I can remember, Fred, he only remarked that he noticed our far-away cousin in Hong Kong had finally taken a notion to write to us. I thought he was trying to be smart, you know; and to carry the joke along I laughed, and said it was too mean for anything the way Cousin Jim had treated us for a long time; and that it was about time he wrote."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Fred, laughing. "And what did he say to that, Kate?"

"I didn't wait to hear," she replied; "but when I went out of the door I looked back, and saw Mr. Smalling patting himself, as if he thought he had the greatest mind ever, to be able to just guess everything."

"Well, I reckon you've spiked his guns, then," Fred went on. "You see, he has a younger brother who trains with that crowd of Buck's; and I didn't know but that Sam might make some mention of the mysterious letter we got to-day from the other side of the world. And then, in some way, it might get around to the ears of Buck, who would carry it to his father; because, I guess every little thing about the Fentons is of _some_ interest up there at the big house."

"Fred, if you make up your mind to be a lawyer, I think you have a future ahead of you," declared his father, proudly; "because your reasoning powers are first-cla.s.s. But the chances of the post office clerk mentioning the fact now are so remote, that we need not give it a thought."

The evening that followed was one of the happiest the Fentons had known for a long time. There was much to talk about, and a spirit of coming joy seemed to pervade the very atmosphere of that humble cottage home, that certainly never brooded over the much more pretentious establishment of Sparks Lemington.

And when, rather later than usual, Fred went up to his small room close under the rafters, where rainy nights he could listen to the patter of the drops on the roof just over his head, he believed that he must be the happiest boy in all Riverport.

And in his new found joy his thoughts turned to the chum who was worrying so much over his troubles; so that Fred resolved on the morrow to try and do something to help poor Bristles Carpenter.

CHAPTER XII

BRISTLES HAS AN IDEA

The following morning, as Fred was tinkering around, fixing up some of his traps, he heard the whistle of one of his chums outside. Poking his head out of the window, and wondering why, if it should be Sid, he did not come upstairs without any knocking at the door, he saw to his surprise that it was Bristles.

"h.e.l.lo! Fred! Can I climb up, or will you come down here?" the latter called out.

"Walk right into my parlor, said the spider to the fly," replied Fred, being in rare good humor himself, and wis.h.i.+ng he could do something to help Bristles.

The other boy soon made his appearance in Fred's little den of a room; which, however, was mighty comfortable, and as neat as wax. Mrs. Fenton was a good housekeeper, and she had always trained her children to never leave things "at sixes and sevens," as she termed it.

Fred saw that Bristles was considerably excited over something or other. And of course the chances were that it must concern his own personal affairs. Having made a confidant of Fred, and gained more or less benefit because of his sympathy and advice, Bristles was rus.h.i.+ng over the first thing with further news.

"You look worked up, Bristles," Fred remarked, as the other threw his cap on the table, and dropped down in the rocker.

"Well, I am, for a fact," the visitor replied, nodding his head to emphasize his remark.

"Anything happened to make you feel better?" suggested Fred; "has there been another mysterious robbery over at your aunt's house, so that she can understand you didn't do it, because you were far away this time?"

Bristles heaved a big sigh.

"Huh! no such good luck as that, Fred," he remarked; "I only wish it was that way. P'raps it will be, just as you say. But an idea hit me in the night, when I was a-lyin' there, trying to get to sleep again. I don't like to be awake when it's only three o'clock, you know. Makes me feel bad in the morning. And I was tired as all get-out last night, after what we did yesterday up at camp and on the way down, when we beat Buck's bunch so neat in that race."

"Hold on, stick to the text," remarked Fred; "you're the greatest fellow to ramble all over the lot when you start to telling anything.

Now you said you had run across an idea; let's hear it, then; for I reckon it must have something to do with your trouble, Bristles?"

The other actually grinned, showing that he was feeling more hopeful on this bright, suns.h.i.+ny, summer morning, at any rate.

"That's right, Fred, it had a whole lot to do with it!" he burst out.

"Say, I've discovered who's been cribbing all those pretty little stones up at my aunt's!"

"You don't mean it?" cried Fred, really taken aback.

"Yes, I do, now," went on the excited Bristles; "and you couldn't guess it in a year of Sundays. It just seemed to pop into my head while I was lying there on my back, grunting because I couldn't get to sleep, or take my mind off Aunt Alicia and her queer old house."

"Now, don't stop like that, and chuckle, Bristles; but go on telling, if you want me to sit here and listen." Fred prodded his chum with his finger as he said this, to bring him to his senses.

"It's playing a mean game on the old lady, too, to take those opals so slick, and give her all that bad feeling; but if she _will_ keep such tricky pets, why she's got to pay for it, that's all, Fred."

"Pets!" burst out the other.

"Sure thing," laughed Bristles; "that wise old crow's the guilty thief!"

"The black raven that she brought over from England, you mean?" Fred went on, rather staggered himself by what Bristles had said, and yet discovering an element of possible truth in it.

"Yes, the old chap that c.o.c.ks his head on one side when you come in, and examines you over from head to foot, just like he meant to say, 'If you're not good looking you're not wanted here!' Oh! he's a gay old villain, I just tell you! And, Fred, mark my words, he's the scamp who's been taking Aunty's opals."

"Why, I do remember reading, more than a few times, that crows and ravens have been known to fly away with bright spoons, and all sorts of things that seem to catch their fancy; but I never heard of a bird stealing from its mistress, and opals at that."

"Well, that's what this one is doing, you mark me," Bristles said, positively. "Why, just see what a great chance the old boy has. He finds the door open into the parlor once in a while, and just hops in, takes up one of the s.h.i.+ny stones, and carries it away to some place where he keeps his treasures. I just bet you now he's been carryin' on that way a long time, and Aunty never noticed that things were disappearing till I began to come over to see her."

"You think so, do you, Bristles?" remarked Fred, still pondering over the matter, and wondering in his mind whether it could really be an explanation for the peculiar little mystery that had given his chum so much heart-pain.

"Why, it's a dead open-and-shut cinch that the answer to the conundrum lies in that silly old black bunch of feathers," declared the other, conviction in his voice. "I looked up all about ravens in our big 'cyclopaedia as soon as I got downstairs this morning; and the more I read, the stronger my mind got that Black Joe _must_ be the guilty one."

"Will you go and tell your aunt, and ask her to make a search for his hiding-place?" Fred inquired.

"Well--er--no; not just that," answered the other, slowly, and watching Fred out of the tail of his eye; "fact is, I'm afraid she'd laugh at me, and say it was only another excuse for me to get inside her house.

Now, if _you_ could drop in to see Aunt Alicia on some excuse or other, Fred, perhaps you might get a chance to look around, and find out where Black Joe keeps his little crop of treasures hid."

Fred burst out into a laugh.