Fred Fenton Marathon Runner Part 8

"Not the way you tried it, Fred; you'll have to excuse me," laughed Bristles. "But I think I can feel the rough rocks here, and seems as if a fellow as spry as Colon might manage to shuffle down. Anyhow, I'm going to try it. I've got a few matches of my own in my pocket, that we could use to look around with."

"Take it slow, and no hurry, boys," warned Fred, at the same time moving out of the way, so that if a stone were dislodged in their pa.s.sage, it would not come in contact with his head.

For a couple of minutes there could be heard a sc.r.a.ping noise, as the two boys lowered themselves down into the opening. Fred struck another match, which he held up in order to give them the benefit of the feeble illumination. a.s.sisted by this light, both of the newcomers managed to reach the side of their chum without encountering any serious difficulty.

"Well, here we are, fellows, all down!" Bristles declared, with a sigh of relief. "I only hope that when we try to climb up again, it won't be an all day job."

"Much easier than coming in," Colon told him. "It always is, when you're mounting a steep cliff; because then you can see just where you're going.

When starting down you hardly know where to put each foot, and when you look to see, it makes you giddy to find how far below the bottom lies."

"Did you see anything when you looked around, that made you want to take a second peep, Fred?" asked Bristles, still clinging to his suspicion.

"I don't know," replied Fred. "It's like this. The match was going out when I thought I glimpsed something on the rocky floor that looked like the ashes of a dead fire! And after that I thought I'd like to make sure before I left here,---just to satisfy my curiosity, you know, boys."

"A fire, eh?" ventured Bristles. "Well, since no wild animal was ever known to start such a thing, that tells us this same cave must have sheltered human beings some time or other."

"Hoboes, most likely," observed Colon; "trust them for finding such a snug hiding-place, after they've gone and robbed some country postoffice, or a farmer's chicken coop."

"I'll strike a light, then, and Fred, you show us where the ashes lie,"

and with these words Bristles drew a match hastily along the seat of his trousers, causing it to burst into a bright flame.

"Over this way, boys," Fred told them, as he stepped across the rocky floor of the cave that had been found in such a queer way.

It was just as he had said, for there on the stones they could see the plain marks of a fire. Colon knew a thing or two about woodcraft, and the very first indication of this was when he thrust his hand into the ashes.

"As cold as they can be," he observed, immediately.

"Which shows that the fire hasn't been burning lately at all," Bristles hastened to add, to prove that he understood what Colon meant to infer.

"Whoever camped in here cooked a meal or two, that's plain," Fred remarked, as he pointed to some chicken bones that were strewn around.

"Tramps, as sure as anything, and they've been raiding the hencoops around this region, too," Colon ventured to say.

"And that poor old wild dog had to stand the blame for it all," said Bristles. "It's nearly always that way; give a dog a bad name, and everybody condemns him. For all we know, some of the sheep that have been killed might have been pulled down by an innocent looking s.h.a.ggy dog belonging to the farmer himself, but it's so easy to saddle the blame on the wicked one. What was that you picked up, Colon?"

"As near as I can make out it looks like one of those tin biscuit boxes you see at the store," the tall boy replied, holding the object up.

"It's got a rubber band around it. Queer thing for tramps to buy. Only imported biscuits are put up this way, Miss Fletcher told me, and she ought to know because she's English, and won't eat any other kind."

"Let me see that tin, will you please, Colon?" asked Fred, suddenly.

After he had looked sharply at it, inside and out, he nodded his head.

"I thought it might be like that," Fred remarked, mysteriously. This manner of talking caused his comrades to stare, and Colon cried out:

"Now, whatever is there about that old tin to make you speak like that, Fred? If you'd picked up a clue to some robbery, you couldn't look more pleased.

"Perhaps we have," said Fred, meaningly. "Take another look at this tin box, both of you. Notice how the heavy rubber band has been fastened underneath, so it couldn't get lost. You never heard of such a thing being done where there were just plain crackers in a tin, did you? Of course not. Well, don't you see that this would make a splendid receptacle for papers, or securities? And just before your match went out, Bristles, I thought I could see a little sc.r.a.p of paper sticking in a corner. That would prove it had held such things."

Bristles could be heard uttering a series of exclamations, as he started to get another match going.

"If this doesn't take the cake! Why, all of us ought to remember how old Mr. Periwinkle complained that someone had entered his house and hooked a sum of money, as well as some papers he kept in a tin box in his desk.

Why, this must be the same tin box, fellows! We ought to keep it, and show it to him."

They examined the thing once more, while the match was burning.

"Guess you're right, Bristles, and this is the box old Periwinkle kept his valuables in," Colon pursued, "but mighty little comfort it's going to do him to set eyes on the same again. Would you care to have the sh.e.l.ls turned back to you, after somebody'd gone and gobbled up the fat kernel of the nut?"

"It will settle the fact that the robber, whoever he could have been, must have stayed in this cave lately," said Fred, seriously. "I don't think these ashes are very old, perhaps not more than a couple of days, at most. So you see that tells us the thief must be around here still."

"Watching out for a bigger haul, more'n likely!" Bristles declared, somewhat excitedly. "I don't believe he got much at Periwinkle's place, because the old man is poor as Job's turkey; leastways he makes out to be, though some folks say he's a sort of miser. But there are farmers that keep quite a sum of money around, and it might be this hobo is waiting to get a chance at a big haul."

"How do we know but what he aims to clean out the Riverport bank some fine night; that sort of thing has been done lots of times in other places?" remarked Colon.

"All of which makes our duty the plainer, boys," Fred told them, "which is to keep this tin box, and show it to Chief Sutton. He'll know what to do about it, and if he says we ought to tell Mr. Periwinkle, why, we'll take a turn up there to-night. I heard that he'd offered a small reward for the return of the papers, and no questions asked; which was a bid to the thief to send the same back, and get paid for doing it."

"And to think of you falling down into this cave the way you did, Fred,"

Colon continued. "Do you reckon that hole up there might be the only way in and out?"

"Well, as far as I could see around, it's only a small affair, so I wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be the case," was the reply Fred made.

Bristles apparently had brought a bountiful supply of matches along, and did not mean to spare them, if by striking successive lights he could satisfy his curiosity.

The others saw him bend forward, and act as though he had picked some small object from the rocky floor of the cave.

"What did you find, Bristles?" demanded Fred.

"Share and share alike," called out Colon. "If you've discovered a diamond, why we all ought to have a part of what you get for the same.

What's that, Bristles? Well, I declare, if it isn't a sort of breastpin, as sure as you live! But such a cheap affair isn't worth ten cents. If that's the stuff this robber has got his pockets lined with, it won't pay the Chief much to chase him down. Only a flimsy little old plated breastpin, with a red stone in it. Huh!"

But the face that Bristles turned on Fred Fenton expressed a vast amount of uneasiness, surprise and concern.

"Gee! I wonder now, if that could be?" he was muttering, so that even Fred began to see that Bristles had struck some sort of clue calculated to stagger him more or less.

"What ails you, Bristles?" Fred asked him, pointedly, as the match went out.

"Why, Fred, as sure as my name is Andy Carpenter, which I sometimes hear it is, I've seen this same silly little pin before!"

"Where?" demanded Fred, almost holding his breath as though he antic.i.p.ated the answer that was coming.

"That little girl had it on the day we pulled her brother, Sam Ludson, out of the river," was the startling reply.

CHAPTER IX

AT THE TOLL-GATE