Fred Fenton on the Crew Part 18

"Who set you on to this thing, Jimmerson?" he demanded. "You never thought of it by yourself, because you haven't got the brains. Tell me now, wasn't it Buck Lemington who got you to come here, and try to set the shed afire?"

Conrad tried to look defiant, but somehow he lacked the spirit. He saw those two frowning lads on either side of him, as he stood there leaning against the wall of the boathouse, his ankles tied with the rope; and he began to weaken.

"I never would a' thought of coming here to spy if it wasn't for----"

he had just started to say, when there came a loud whistle, twice repeated, from outside, which must have been recognized by the fellow as a terrible threat of what would happen to him if he opened his lips to betray his cronies; for he s.h.i.+vered as if he had been showered with ice water, nor could they influence him after that, either by threats or promises, to say another word.

Fear of what Buck would do seemed to have a greater influence over him than the possibility of punishment because of what he had tried to do.

One was sure, while the other might be set down as only a chance.

Besides, perhaps the fellow began to realize that Fred and Colon really could not prove that he had been carrying that bundle of old rags, as well as the bottle containing the kerosene. No court would decide that because they had been found there on the ground, he had brought them.

Fred understood this and it was what made him say presently:

"Well, we might as well let this fellow loose, Colon. After all, the proof, if there is any, must rest in these rags and this bottle. If we can find out just where they came from, we'll be satisfied in our own minds whom we have to thank for this midnight alarm."

"Just as if there could be any doubt about it!" scoffed Colon. "Didn't we hear that whistle, and don't I know who gave it? Buck carries a little silver whistle and likes to communicate with his bunch that way.

They've got a regular code, I've heard tell. And didn't you notice how quick Conrad, here, b.u.t.toned up his lips when he heard that order to keep mum?"

"Another night," said Fred, threateningly, "we'll have a shotgun handy; and it'll go hard with prowlers, if we get a sight of them. Unfasten his legs, Colon, and then show him the door."

The prisoner seemed to regain a little of his lost courage upon finding that they did not mean to hurt him any.

"And you just stop pinching me when you do untie this rope, Chris Colon," said Conrad. "I want you to know you don't own the earth. A feller what lives in Riverport all his life ought to have the right to walk along the river here without having tricks played on him, and bein' yanked head-down up in the air. You'll pay for your fun yet, see if you don't, Chris Colon."

"Shut up!" roared the exasperated Colon, shaking the other, whom he was now escorting to the door, with the intention of ejecting him, just as Fred had directed. "You ought to be tarred and feathered, if you got your dues. Like to see our boat go up in smoke; would you? And Buck aims to keep us from using the river, just because he was foolish enough as to smash his own boat? You tell him to come himself the next time. We'll be glad to see him; and perhaps he might meet with a surprise worse than the one I sprung on you, Conrad. Now don't forget to tell him; you hear me!"

Colon had managed to get the door open while speaking. Then he gave the other a little push, as if to start him going. Conrad somehow seemed to suspect what was coming, for he tried to hug close to the tall boy, who, however, gave him a shove. So Conrad, thinking he had a chance, made a bolt; but that long leg of Colon shot out, and caught him fairly and squarely, sending him flying.

The boy who was thus thrown out picked himself up, and thinking he heard his enemy coming toward him, fled into the darkness, howling in mingled pain and fear.

Colon, laughing heartily, closed and fastened the door, after which he rejoined his watch-mate, to see out the balance of the eventful night in Fred's company.

CHAPTER XX

IN THE HOLLOW OAK

After that there was no further alarm, and the two watchers secured quite a fair amount of sleep before the coming of dawn warned them to hie away home. They left the blankets at the boathouse, for they had purposely brought old ones; and hence, when it came time for the next watch to take up their duties, there would be no occasion for them to duplicate.

On second thought the boys had come to the conclusion that it might be wise for them to tell Brad what had happened. The fact that the vengeful Buck had not stopped at such a grave thing as setting fire to the shed, worried them both.

So a little later they both met again, having had breakfast. Together they hunted up the other three who were in the game; indeed, Bristles was meanwhile searching the whole neighborhood for Fred, having called at his house after he had gone.

"Well," he remarked, after he had caught up with Fred, Sid and Colon, on their way to get Corney and himself; "seems to me you fellows are in a big hurry this same morning."

"We are," replied Fred. "We wanted to get the entire committee together, and go in a body to see Brad. He ought to know that the boat is always going to be in danger unless something is done to curb Buck Lemington."

"Say, was I right?" cried Bristles, exultantly.

"You were," replied Colon, solemnly.

"Then he _did_ try to break in, so's to cut the boat, and injure her?"

the other went on, eagerly.

"Worse than that!" said Colon.

"Far worse!" Fred added, looking mighty solemn himself.

"Oh! come, let up on that sort of thing; open up and tell me what happened!" the excited boy demanded.

When they did give him the whole story he could hardly contain himself, between his natural indignation because of the meanness of the act, and his delight over the success of Colon's little trap.

"Caught that sneak Conrad Jimmerson, and strung him up like a trapped 'possum, did you?" he cried, clapping his hands in glee. "Gee! what tough luck that I wasn't around to see it. Always my bad fortune, seeing lots of game when I haven't got a gun; and never a thing when I'm heeled for business."

"You see Colon and myself got to talking it over," said Fred; "and we made up our minds that it was hardly fair to keep the thing from Brad.

He's our head in the boat club, and ought to know all that's going on.

Besides, when toughs begin to want to burn down houses just for spite, that's going pretty far. Something ought to be done to stop it."

Brad was of course duly impressed when he heard the story. He laughed heartily at the comical element connected with Colon's man-trap; but took the other part seriously.

"I'm going over and see my uncle about it," he declared in the end.

"Being a lawyer, and a judge at that, he'll tell me what to do. I think he'll say he wouldn't mention a single name; for you know all lawyers are mighty cautious how they give cause for a suit for slander. But he'll tell me we ought to scatter the story all over town, and also let it be known that from now on there'll be somebody in that house every night, armed, and ready to fire on trespa.s.sers. See you later, fellows."

Fred found a chance a little later to get away from his other chums. He really did have an errand for his mother in one of the stores, but he remembered something besides that he had intended doing at the earliest opportunity, and it was this that swayed him most.

Now, it chanced that the place he had to visit to leave an order was the largest grocery store in Riverport. And one of the boys employed there was Toby Farrell. Fred knew that he was generally sent out each morning on a wheel, to visit a line of customers, and take down their orders; though most of them had telephones for that matter, and could have wired in their necessities.

Still, this grocer was enterprising, and instructed his boy clerk to tell each customer just what new and attractive goods they had received fresh that morning, possibly strawberries, vegetables and the like.

And in the course of his wheeling about Toby was accustomed to visit the establishment of Miss Alicia Muster each and every day. In fact, Toby was one of the two boys hired by trades-people whom Fred suspected of being the person guilty of taking the old maid's opals from the parlor.

Both of them were allowed to cool their heels in the kitchen for possibly ten minutes at a time, while the aged "mammy" consulted her mistress in her private room. And an inquisitive half-grown boy might become so familiar with the premises that, in a spirit of curiosity, or from some other reason, he would look around him a little at such times.

Mr. Cleaver, the grocer, was in a good humor, and when Fred mentioned that he knew someone who had shown an interest in his young clerk, he immediately broke out in Toby's praise.

"Best boy, barring none, I ever had, Fred," he declared. "Never late in the morning, neat in his work, obliging in his manners to my customers, and willing to stay after hours if there is a rush. In fact I'm so well satisfied with Toby that I expect to add a couple of dollars to his wages this very next Sat.u.r.day. And I'm told he's the idol of his mother's eye. She's a widow, you know, with three small children, Toby being the eldest. He shows signs of being like his father; and Matthew Farrell was one of our leading citizens up to the time of his death. I hope she gets his pension through; it'll mean several thousand dollars for her. He died really of wounds received long ago in the war. Never would apply for the pension he was ent.i.tled to. Toby's all right, you tell your friend; and he's promised to stick right here. Some day he might be a partner in this business, who knows?"

Well, after that, Fred was ready to throw up his hands in so far as Toby was concerned. He felt that he could never strike pay dirt in that quarter. There never was, and never would be again, quite such a paragon as Toby Farrell. It would be wasting time to try and bark up this tree. The scent had evidently led him in the wrong quarter.

Accordingly, he turned toward the butcher's, and here he fully antic.i.p.ated getting on the track of something. Gabe lived in an outlying quarter, and when he went home in the evening, or at noon, he took a short-cut through Ramsey's woods, where there was a convenient path.

Now it happened that Fred knew this fact, for he had many a time seen the butcher's boy going and coming. Gabe had a big whistle, and used to amuse himself as he walked to and from home in trying to get the airs from the popular ragtime songs of the day.

Fred had heard it said that the boy who whistles is generally an honest fellow, and that guilt and this disposition seldom, if ever, go hand in hand. How much truth there was in this saying he did not know; but it was on his mind now to try and find out.

Perhaps the fact that it was about ten minutes of twelve influenced Fred in what he set out to do.