The Auto Boys' Vacation Part 8

Mr. Rack said, placidly. "First, to Creek's garage."

The Big Six moved swiftly away, throwing always a flood of light ahead, its gleaming oil lamps seeming to be but a streak of white to those who watched it pa.s.s.

In a minute's time the detective apparently had seen all he wished to see at the small garage. While he looked the place over Way, at his request, was locating Chief Fobes by phone. The policeman came from the hotel on the run when told that Mr. Bob Rack wanted him. For perhaps five minutes he and the detective talked in Willie Creek's office.

"That fellow Coster got out about nine o'clock. He must have got off with the Torpedo about half-past nine. About a two hours' start of us,"

said Billy Worth to his friends in the tonneau. There was no doubt in his mind, whatever, that the jail-bird had flown in the stolen machine.

"Funny that the only thing Mr. Rack 'specially noticed in all we could tell him, Bill, was about the planks that had been carried from over the hill to run the Six down the bank on," observed Paul Jones, thoughtfully.

"Looks a lot like Hipp and Earnest, so far as the hiding of our car goes, Mack," Billy added to Paul's idea, for Dave was an interested listener.

"In with you! Speed now, David, if there's such a thing!" This from Detective Bob, the first words to Phil standing beside the car, the second order to MacLester at the wheel. And as the Six instantly responded,--"Out to the right-hand fork, and not a minute to lose!" he said.

There was unmistakable authority and command in his manner. One could have thought of nothing but instant obedience. Yet from his smile and gentle tone it seemed that he might have said, "I declare, it's a very pleasant evening."

Their hearts beating hard with the excitement of adventure and the rapid ride, the Auto Boys vainly speculated, each in his own thoughts, upon the unknown plans and intentions of the detective.

"Turn right! We're doing famously, but--" Without a sign of question, or any movement save a quick, short nod to say that he heard, MacLester obeyed Bob Rack's order. Like a flying specter, the Big Six shot down the little grade where the lonely Right Fork branched off, and on and on.

Not a word was spoken. Scurrying ma.s.ses of cloud swept the sky above and only at intervals did rifts appear where the moon shone through, relieving for the moment the heavy darkness. Over to the south and back to the west the inky clouds were rolling up like wind-tossed mountains.

Flashes of lightning came more and more often, and after each the thunder crashed or rumbled in the distance. The lonely woodlands, and the wildness of the unused, brush-grown fields were almost terrifying as each sharp and sudden glare fell for an instant on them.

All within a second the flying car drew near and pa.s.sed the darker shadows that marked the miller's grim old house, the mill, the pond, the icehouse. Over the bridge and up the grade--a stretch of level road, then down the slope to the swampy spot where the Six was ditched that other time, then up again and on!

"Stop here, David." Always that same easy, gentle tone, but Mack obeyed the order instantly.

"You know this road. Could you go forward without lights?" And without waiting for an answer, "Will you put them out, Way?"

Every light was extinguished. The car stood in total darkness, but stood for a second only. "Just as quietly as you can," requested Mr. Rack, as MacLester slipped the clutch to place again.

"Now," said the detective, "I am going to tell you that this may be a wild goose chase, though I think not. I don't believe any of you will need leave the car, but, Phil, you take this revolver. If you hear me shout, 'close in,' come to me instantly. The rest of you stand ready for any instructions that may be necessary."

Almost noiselessly the big machine purred forward, more slowly now but still at good speed. In wonder and excitement the Auto Boys sat silent as the darkness round them. And while _they_ were at tension that strained every nerve, the calm tranquillity of Mr. Bob Rack was, by contrast, the more amazing.

"I suppose," said he, softly, quite as if he might have been gently musing before a pleasant fireplace in the quiet of home, "I suppose the truest words ever put in verse are those which say----

"'Truth crushed to earth will rise again.

"But error, wounded, writhes in pain "And dies amidst her wors.h.i.+pers.'

"And there," he said as if he were but speaking to himself, "there is the whole ground work, the unfailing foundation that we must work upon, whether we are detectives or doctors or anything else. There is no such thing as successful deception. This case is an excellent ill.u.s.tration, and I must tell you about it later. It is an old, old error, a monstrous lie that has reached its end to-night, I firmly believe."

CHAPTER VIII

IN MOST EXCELLENT GOOD SEASON

Almost as he ceased speaking the detective, peering forward, as if not quite certain of the road, it was so dark, placed a detaining hand on Davy's arm. "Right to one side here and stop," he said.

Without jar or sound, save the slight squeak of a brake, the Big Six came to a halt. The wonder of the Auto Boys was doubled, if such a thing were possible. Another hundred yards would have placed them directly in front of the dwelling of Mr. Peek.

"_He_ had nothing to do with stealing that car, or ours," Paul Jones could not refrain from whispering to Billy, at his side.

Lost in his own questioning thoughts, Worth did not answer.

"Keep right behind me, Philip, the gun in your right hand and pointed to the ground." Mr. Rack was out of the car now, and taking Phil by the sleeve as he spoke, that young gentleman also stepped softly down. "If you boys are as quiet as mice," said the detective to the others, "you will hear me call instructions, should I do so. We may be gone for some time."

In silent wonder the three in the car obeyed the order so gently given, but so imperatively attuned. Without misgiving, but trembling from the mult.i.tude of questions rus.h.i.+ng to his mind, Way followed Mr. Rack.

Walking upright, but without noise, the two approached the dark and lonely farmhouse.

Stationing Way behind the trunk of an old apple tree, Mr. Rack left him.

For a quarter of an hour he was absent. Vastly to Phil's surprise he came creeping on hands and knees and was fairly beside the boy ere the latter discovered him.

"We are too late, or too early. It will take some time----"

A terrific scream burst suddenly on the air. Coming in unexpected violence, and from within the old house, the sound was terrifying beyond description.

"Don't forget the signal!" said Robert Rack calmly.

"Close in," Phil whispered, to show he remembered, but the detective was gone.

The seconds seemed like hours to Philip Way and no less so to the three in the car who had heard the frightful scream.

Suddenly there came a wild cry, like violent, threatening anger, like the howl of a wolf at bay. And then----

"Close in!" It was the voice of Bob Rack, and what a contrast with the other! It might have been a father calling a son to breakfast, so cool, collected, calm it was.

Instantly Way rushed forward through the dark. _Close in!_ Yes, but where? How? Soon he found himself groping for the door at the side porch. A feeble light shone from the kitchen. With a crash the door was suddenly flung open. A heavy figure leaped forth. Phil threw himself forward, arms outstretched, just as many a time he had tackled on the gridiron, and the heavy body went tumbling to the ground beside the doorstep, Way with it, but keeping the uppermost position.

"Nicely done, Philip, nicely!" No disturbed note, no ruffled sound, no excitement whatever,--just Bob Rack saying a word or two in his calm and tranquil way, both then and an instant later: "Sit up, Adam! Let him rise, Phil. I think we were here just in good season. You see how Mr.

Peek is, Phil,--back there in the front room. You'll find another lamp in the kitchen, no doubt."

Nothing surprised Phil more, perhaps, than the effect of the detective's low and even tones upon himself. Though panting for breath, after the recent struggle and his exertion, he noticed that he experienced no sense of fear or apprehension. He found a lamp on a low mantel and lighted it. As he went toward the room adjoining, he heard Mr. Rack call cheerily, "Light up the car, boys! Drive up to the yard here, if you will."

The scene Phil discovered in the front room would have been horrifying but for the calm upon him, to which allusion has just been made. Mr.

Peek, dressed as if for work, sat on the edge of the bed, his face covered by his hands while blood stained his fingers and dripped, like the dropping of water, upon the oil-cloth covering the floor.

Hastily Way helped the old man to rise. He wanted the outer air he said--his chair near the kitchen door. The lad led him as he wished, then brought water and a towel. Helping himself, then, Mr. Peek bathed an ugly wound above and to the left of his left eyebrow. A revolver in his hand, Mr. Rack sat on the lower steps of the porch. His prisoner sat on the ground before him and the detective had taken the precaution of slipping handcuffs upon him.

Billy, Paul and Dave had now arrived upon the scene, but not one ventured a word.

"Are you able to ride to town, Mr. Peek?" asked Mr. Rack. "You'll be so much better there than here."

But no, the old gentleman would not go. He was not much hurt, he said, and would feel perfectly safe to remain alone. "Safer than I have really been for many a day, I don't doubt," he added. "But if he had struck the temple, as he surely tried to, he would have killed me," shuddered the aged farmer. "Lord, I have suffered as I have deserved!"

The latter words were low, as if spoken in prayer. Then quite aloud again, "Take him with you. You might drop in to-morrow. Maybe my boys will be out this way." The latter words were accompanied by a smile.