The Banner Boy Scouts on a Tour Part 4

"Peter grabbed our chum as he was running after the shadow," replied the boy perched on the windowsill. "He's shaking him as if he believed it was William up to some of his old tricks, and that he rang that bell.

Now the other boys are crowding around trying to pull him off."

"But what about Ward? Has he gotten clean away?" asked a disappointed one, of the lookout.

"Looks as if they couldn't flag him," came the answer in dejected tones; "anyhow, I don't see any fellows holdin' a prisoner. Let's get outside, and help explain to Peter, boys."

So they went straggling back to the exit, and pa.s.sed outside, Paul leaving the burning lamp in the vestibule as proof of his story.

Peter was an excitable German, who had been very good to the boys.

Indignant at what he thought to be an exhibition of base ingrat.i.tude on their part, he had shaken William until the lad's teeth rattled.

"You vill wake up de goot beoples mit your rackets, hey?" the old s.e.xton was crying, "I knows apout how you does all de times, Villiam Carberries, ain't it? Mebbe you t'ink it fun to ring dot pell like dot, unt pring all de neighbors aroundt mit a rush. Hey! vat you poys say? He didn't pull dot rope? Who did, den, tell me dot? Mebbe I didn't grab mit him as he vas runnin' away! h.e.l.lo! mister scout leader, how vas dot?"

Paul had come up while William was being shaken like a rat in the clutches of a terrier.

"Say, Paul, tell him, for goodness sake," stammered the innocent victim, as he squirmed in the clutches of the indignant s.e.xton, "ask him to let up on this rough house business. I'm just falling to pieces!"

"Wait a minute, Peter," the scout leader immediately called out, "William was with the rest of us down in the bas.e.m.e.nt at the time the bell began to ring. We all started to try and catch the fellow who pulled the rope; but I'm afraid he got away. He went through the church, and out of an open window. You can see for yourself when you go inside, that he tied a rope to trip any of us when we chased him."

Peter eased up his hold, and the agile William broke away, as if only too glad to be able to catch his breath again.

"Yes, and Peter, we know who it was, too!" declared Nuthin, eagerly.

"That is, we think we do," broke in Paul, holding up his find. "This hat dropped when he climbed up to the window. And a lot of us have seen it before."

"Why, it belongs to Ward Kenwood!" exclaimed Jud Elderkin, as he bent forward to take a better look at the captured headgear.

"How do you know?" asked Paul, for a purpose.

"Well, I've seen it on him lots of times," came the unhesitating reply.

"There may be a few hats like it in Stanhope, but they're scarce as hen's teeth. Besides, I've got my private mark on that hat. Look inside, and see if there isn't a circle and two cross bars, made with a pen on the sweat band?"

Paul stepped over to the street light close by, and examined the inside of the hat.

"You're right, Jud; here's the mark, sure enough. However did you come to put it there inside of Ward's hat?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh!" answered Jud, with a broad grin, "that was my idea of a little joke, fellows. I happened to find his hat one fine day at school, and having a pen in my hand, thought I'd give him something to puzzle his head about. So I made that high sign there. Guess he wondered what it all meant, and if he was marked for a Black Hand victim. But you can roll your hoop, fellows, that this is Ward's lid."

"If we had only caught him, Peter, you would know it was so," observed Jack; who had led the crowd that rushed outdoors, and felt rather cheap because their intended game had succeeded in escaping.

"Look here, what's to hinder us going and collarin' him on his way home?" broke in Bobolink, always conjuring up bright ideas.

"That's so, Paul. What d'ye think?" asked Jack, eagerly.

"A good idea," declared the one addressed, without stopping an instant; "and Peter shall go along to be a witness, if we find that Ward is minus his hat. Perhaps we might be lucky enough to find that black mask in his pocket, too. And somehow, I've got a notion he had his hands rubbed with charcoal, to match his face. If we found that to be the case I guess the trustees would be ready to admit _we_ didn't have anything to do with this affair."

"Give the order then, Paul. Every one will want to go along; but that would be sure to queer the job. Pick out several likely chaps, won't you?" asked Jack.

"Sure I will. To begin with, Jack, you stay to see about closing up shop. Bobolink, you and Bluff come with us; yes, and Nuthin can trot along, too. That ought to be enough, with Peter here to help."

The German s.e.xton was not so very dull of comprehension after all. And besides, he believed in Paul Morrison. He agreed to accompany the group of scouts on their strange errand, since Jack promised to close all the windows, and remain in the bas.e.m.e.nt until his return.

Accordingly the five walked away, vanis.h.i.+ng in the darkness. Paul suspected that one or more of the enemy might be concealed close by, hoping to learn what they meant to do; and so he had lowered his voice when speaking.

He led the way, pa.s.sing through several side streets until finally they found themselves close to the fine residence of Mr. Kenwood, the banker.

"Say, I happen to know that Ward always uses the back gate when he goes out nights," ventured Nuthin, in a whisper, close to Paul's ear.

This was important news, and the scout leader was not slow to take advantage of it. So they found a place close to the rear gate, and crouched low, waiting. Slowly the minutes pa.s.sed. The town clock struck the half hour, though it seemed to some of the watchers that they must have been on duty for ages.

"That's him coming," said Nuthin at length, in the lowest of voices; "I know his whistle all right. He's feelin' right merry over givin' us the ha! ha!"

"'s.h.!.+" warned Paul, just then; and as the whistler drew rapidly closer the five crouching figures prepared to spring out upon him.

CHAPTER IV

CATCHING A TARTAR

"Now!" exclaimed Paul, suddenly.

At the word a number of dark figures sprang erect, coming out of the denser shadows alongside the gate in the high fence back of the Kenwood grounds.

Ward was of course startled. The whistle came to an abrupt termination.

Perhaps he may even have recognized the voice that called out this one word in such a tone of authority; for while he did not make any outcry he turned as if to flee.

It was already too late, for Bobolink, as if forseeing some such clever move on the part of the slippery customer, had so placed himself that he was able to cut off all retreat.

Then many hands were clutching the garments of the banker's son, and despite his vigorous struggles he found himself held. While it was far from light back there, he seemed to be able to divine who his captors were, judging from the way he immediately broke out in a tirade of abuse.

"Better keep your hands off me, Paul Morrison," was the way he ranted; "and you too, Bobolink and Jud! What d'ye mean holding me up like this, right at our own gate too? I'll tell Chief Billings about it, and perhaps you'll find yourselves pulled in. Let go of me, I tell you! How dare you grab me this way?"

It need hardly be said that not one of the boys addressed showed the least intention of carrying out the wishes of the speaker. In fact, to tell the truth, each one of the scouts seemed to tighten his grip.

One thing Paul noticed, and this was the fact that Ward did not raise his voice above an ordinary tone. He was angry, possibly alarmed, too; but somehow he did not seem to care about shouting so as to arouse his folks.

From this it was easy for Paul to guess that Ward must have been ordered to remain indoors on this night; and did not wish his father to know he had been roaming the streets with Ted Slavin and his cronies. Of late Ted had been getting into unusually bad odor with the town people, and perhaps Mr. Kenwood was trying to break off the intimacy known to exist between his son and the prime prank player of Stanhope.

"See, his hat's gone, Paul!" exclaimed Nuthin.

"Huh! what of that?" echoed the ever ready Ward, "guess I loaned it to another fellow who lost his, and had the toothache."

It may have seemed an ingenious excuse to him, and one calculated to cast doubts on any accusation that might be made, with the idea of connecting him with the boy who rang the big bell. Paul, however, believed he could afford to laugh at such a clumsy effort to crawl out of the responsibility.

"Peter," he said, briskly, "you look him over, and see if you can find a black mask in any of his pockets. You know I told you the fellow who ran out through the church after dropping the bell rope had his face hidden back of such a disguise."