CHAPTER XII.
A WILD NIGHT RIDE.
“I say, Jerry,” began Bob, dismounting from his motor-cycle one afternoon in front of his chum’s house, “what do you say to a night ride?”
“You mean on our machines?”
“Sure. Let’s get acetylene gas lamps, that give a good light, and ride over to Fallsburg and back. We can start in the evening and easily make the round trip in five or six hours.”
Fallsburg was a town about the size of Cresville and forty miles distant therefrom. The road between was a fairly good one most of the way, and, by making a circuit involving about five miles more of travel an excellent highway for the whole distance was available.
It was decided to start right after supper, and the chums calculated they could make Fallsburg in about three hours. They did not intend to ride fast, and were out for pleasure rather than for speed.
Without special incident the trip to Fallsburg was concluded. It was nine o’clock when the boys reached the town, which was quite a lively place. Considerable of a stir was caused when our three heroes rode in on their machines, which were somewhat of a novelty there.
“Hurrah! I see an ice cream sign!” exclaimed Ned, pointing down the street.
Little time was lost in getting to the store and after each had put away a large plate of the frozen stuff the boys felt better. The tables in the ice cream parlor were separated one from the other by large screens. In the improvised apartment just back of where the three boys were sitting, voices in low conversation could be heard.
“Are you sure Noddy will be there?” was the cautious inquiry that came to the ears of our heroes. At the sound of that name all three started.
“He’ll be there if his machine doesn’t break, which it has an unpleasant habit of doing lately,” a second voice said.
“And do you think he’ll bring the money?”
“He’d better if he knows what’s good for him,” was the answer. “He’s put me off long enough.”
“The old house by the cross-roads is the place, ain’t it?” asked the party who had first spoken.
“That’s it, and if Noddy don’t show up he’ll hear from me in a way he won’t like.”
“Come on,” whispered Jerry to his chums. “Let’s get out of this before those men see us.”
Quietly the three boys left the ice cream parlor. They did not speak until they were in the street.
“What do you suppose they were talking about?” asked Ned.
“I don’t know what the subject was,” replied Jerry, “but I venture to say the person they meant was our acquaintance, Noddy Nixon.”
“And he’s evidently expected to pay over some money to-night,” added Bob.
“At the old house at the cross-roads,” put in Ned. “I’ll bet I know where they mean.”
“Where?” asked Jerry.
“Don’t you remember that old tumbled-down place we passed about three miles outside of this town? Near the blacksmith shop?”
“You mean right after we crossed the river?” inquired Jerry.
“That’s it.”
The same thought was in the minds of all three. Bob was the first to mention it.
“Let’s go out there and see what we can learn,” he said. “It is on our way home, and we have plenty of time.”
“There may be some danger,” objected Jerry.
“Nonsense. We have as much right there as any one. All we have to do is to stop off from our motor cycles as we pass. No one can object to that.”
After some further conversation it was agreed to do this. The boys wandered about the streets a while longer and, as it was nearing eleven o’clock, they thought they had better start. They found their machines in proper order, and soon were moving slowly out of town.
“There’s no use being in too much of a hurry,” advised Bob. “Probably Noddy won’t meet the men there much before midnight, and it lacks half an hour of that now.”
A little later the three boys came in sight of the deserted house. Lonesome and uncanny enough it looked, the moonlight making mysterious shadows here and there.
“Go easy,” spoke Ned. “No need to tell them we are coming if by any chance they are there.”
Silently the boys dismounted from their cycles, leaned the machines up against the fence a short way from in front of the house, and crept up through the long grass that filled the yard of the old vacant structure.
“Hold on!” cried Bob suddenly.
All three came to a halt.
“What is it?” whispered Jerry.
For answer Bob pointed toward a shed at the side of the house. In it could be seen a light gleaming.
“Are they in there?” asked Jerry.
“No, but some one’s motor-cycle is,” replied Bob.
Foot by foot the three boys made toward the dark and deserted house. They had circled half way around it, and, coming to the rear, were suddenly brought to a halt by a sliver of light shooting out from some crack.
“Hold on!” exclaimed Bob.
They stopped and looked toward the light. It came from the kitchen window, which was closed by broken shutters through a splintered slat of which the gleam came. On tip-toes the three boys crept under the window. They peered into the room, and the sight that met their eyes made them start in surprise.
Seated around a rough table, on which stood a lighted candle stuck in a bottle, were three figures. One was Bill Berry, the other was a stranger and the third was Noddy Nixon. The stranger was holding a pistol to Noddy’s head, and seemed to be threatening him.
Bill Berry was looking on, and taking no part in the proceedings, evidently. Then, as the boys watched, they saw Noddy, plainly in fear of the man with the weapon, pull from his pocket a roll of bills.
He gave it to the stranger, fairly throwing it at him in a rage. Then the man with the pistol, smiling in a satisfied way, put up his weapon. Noddy was saying something, for the boys could see his lips moving, but they could not hear the words, for the window was closed.
“Queer doings,” whispered Jerry.
At that instant Ned, in an endeavor to see better, leaned a little forward. A piece of board he was standing on broke with a loud crash, and he toppled forward, hitting the window shutter with his elbow.
Like a flash Noddy, Bill and the strange man leaped to their feet and gazed in the direction of the window.
“Quick! Light out of this!” exclaimed Bob. “They will be after us in another minute!”
Sure enough, after a moment’s hesitation, Noddy ran toward the door with the intention of going outside and seeing who had made the racket.
“Hurry!” whispered Bob hoarsely. “To the motor-cycles!”
The three boys lost no time. Hastening on in the darkness they stumbled and ran to where they had left their machines.
As they reached them they heard a door opened, and footsteps in hot pursuit.
“Who is it?” they heard Noddy’s voice inquiring.
The boys rolled their motor-cycles out in the road. They leaped into the saddles, started off, and in another instant had turned on the power and were off down the highway leading to Cresville. As they whizzed past the house, in which several lights now gleamed, they heard Noddy cry:
“Confound them! I’ll fix them for spying on me!”
At the same time they heard the explosions that indicated that Noddy had put his motor cycle in operation.
“The race is on!” cried Ned.
And a race it was to be. They were about thirty-five miles from home. There was a good road, and, with the moon high up now, it was well lighted. The acetylene lamps on the machines also gave good illumination. In a few minutes the motors of the three boys were humming on half-speed.
Behind them, borne on the night wind, could be heard the puffing of the motor-cycle in pursuit. But the three chums had a start of several minutes, which counted much.
“Look behind and see if you can see his lamp,” said Ned.
“Not a gleam,” reported Bob, after a hasty glance.
Several miles were passed in this fashion, the pursuing machine getting no nearer. Then, all at once, Ned cried:
“I can see his light!”
It was true. Either Noddy had increased his speed, or he had emerged from behind some bend in the road that hitherto hid the gleam of his lamp from the boys.
At the same time the explosions of his motor sounded louder.
“He’s catching up to us!” cried Jerry. “Shall we turn on more power?”
“It’s a little risky,” cautioned Bob. “Especially as we don’t know the road very well. However, another notch or two won’t do any harm.”
Noddy was now within an eighth of a mile. His speed was increasing. Suddenly he called:
“Whoever you are, stop, or I’ll shoot!”
“He don’t know who we are, anyhow,” said Jerry.
“I’m going to fire!” shouted Noddy.
“This is getting exciting!” cried Ned.
“He is only trying to scare us,” exclaimed Bob.
Then came a loud report.
“That wasn’t a revolver!” exclaimed Jerry. “It sounded as if one of his tires burst. That’s it!” he added a second later, as he looked back. “Noddy has had an accident. I guess this race is off!”
True enough, the front tire on Noddy’s machine had collapsed. He was forced to stop, and, as the boys sped on they could hear him faintly calling after them. The three chums reduced the speed of their motors, but did not stop, and soon they were out of sight and hearing of Noddy.
“Well, we certainly had an adventure,” came from Ned. “I wonder what it was all about?”
“We’ll find out some day,” was Jerry’s opinion.
Then, once more they took up their journey, and reached Cresville without further happening, arriving just before daylight.
CHAPTER XIII.
ADVENTURES ON THE ROAD.
“Want to take a ride with me?” asked Bob of Ned, one morning, about a week following the exciting night ride. “Father wants me to go over to Franklin to take a message to the bank there.”
“Sure I’ll go. And we’ll ask Jerry. Wait until I get my machine, and I’ll be with you.”
The two boys were soon puffing along their motors to Jerry’s house. He joined them and all three started off for Franklin.
The ride was a pleasant one. It was rather warm, but there was a cool breeze, that was added to by the speed at which the boys rode. Franklin was about twenty miles from Cresville, and was a village of good size. The boys had some friends there, and intended calling on them before returning.
They reached Franklin without mishaps. Bob transacted the business his father had sent him on, and then the boys voted that a meal would not be out of place.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to be starting back,” said Bob at length. “Father will want to know how I made out with his matter.”
Ned and Jerry were agreeable, and they mounted their machines and were soon on the homeward journey.
They had gone perhaps ten miles when, on making a sudden turn in the road, they came face to face with a countryman who was driving a rather spirited horse. At the sight and sound of the machines the animal reared up in the air. The boys stopped their motors, but the horse would not be quieted. Even the sight of the cycles seemed to madden the brute. In spite of the efforts of the countryman the horse continued to rear and prance. Then the steed made a sudden turn, and, with a cracking sound, one of the carriage shafts broke.
“Now ye’ve gone and done it!” yelled the driver, seeming to fly in a rage. “Ye’ll have to pay for this.”
“We’re very sorry,” began Jerry, “we didn’t intend to cause any trouble.”
“That’s always the way with peesky boys,” went on the countryman. “I’ll have the law on ye for this! You wait until I get out.”
The horse, having done what damage he could, seemed to be satisfied, and quieted down. The driver dismounted and tied the animal to a fence, and then proceeded to examine the broken shaft.
“Busted clean off,” he announced in an ugly tone. “It’ll cost five dollars to get it fixed. You’ll have to settle.”
“That’s right, make ’em pay!” exclaimed a voice from the bushes that lined the road side, and, to the surprise of the three boys, Noddy Nixon stepped out into view.
“I intend to,” said the countryman.
“They’ve no business on the road in their machines, frightening horses,” went on Noddy with a grin. “The roads are for carriages.”
“Well, I like your nerve, Noddy Nixon!” exclaimed Jerry hotly. “We have just as much right on the road as this driver has. And you’ve got a motor-cycle yourself.”
“That’s none of your business,” remarked Noddy in a surly tone. “You cubs frightened this man’s horse, and he has a right to demand payment. Don’t let ’em get away until they pay,” Noddy added to the driver.
“I don’t intend they shall,” was the answer.
“Look here!” exclaimed Bob. “We never said we didn’t intend to pay, but it’s none of your business, Noddy.”
“Don’t give me any of your lip,” the bully roared. “I’ve been wanting to thrash you for some time, and now I have a good chance.”
“Go ahead, if you think it’s healthy,” said Bob boldly. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“If you fight him, you’ll have to fight me,” said Jerry, coming forward and standing beside Bob.
“Yes, and me also,” said Ned.
“I guess I’ll have to take a hand then,” said the countryman. “I want pay for my broken shaft. If I can’t get it in money I’ll take it out of your hides.”
“If you touch us I’ll make a complaint and cause your arrest,” said Jerry.
“Who’s talking about arrests?” asked a gruff voice, and, from the bushes whence Noddy had made his appearance Bill Berry stepped out.
At the sight of him Noddy grinned, and moved closer to Bob.
“That’s big talk for a small boy,” Bill went on with a laugh. “What’s the row, Noddy?”
“Oh, these young cubs frightened this gentleman’s horse, the animal broke a shaft, and they won’t pay for it.”
“That isn’t true,” cried Bob. “We never refused to pay for the damage.”
“Make ’em pay!” cried Bill, slapping his hand on his thigh with a sound like a pistol shot. “Make ’em pay!”
In a fit of passion Noddy aimed a blow at Bob. The boy dodged it cleverly, and shot out his fist toward Noddy’s face. He only landed lightly on the bully’s nose, but that, with the overbalancing caused when he missed his mark, sent Noddy down in a heap.
“I’ll make you pay for this!” he fairly screamed as he scrambled up.
He rushed at Bob. Ned and Jerry ran up and were about to aid their chum.
“Let me attend to him alone!” pleaded Bob.
“I’ll fix you!” screamed the bully.
Once more he aimed a fearful blow at Bob, but the latter merely stepped to one side, and once more Noddy went down, without having been hit. He arose with his mouth full of dust.
At that instant the countryman’s horse, probably frightened by the noise and shouts, reared on its hind legs, broke the strap that fastened him to the fence, and galloped off down the road.
“Consarn ye! There goes my best horse!” cried the countryman, losing all interest in the fight. “Five dollars to whoever catches him!”
“I’m going to have a try for that!” exclaimed Bill, setting off down the road on a swift run. “Five dollars don’t come my way every afternoon!”
“I’ll sue ye for this!” yelled the countryman, shaking his fist at the boys before speeding down the highway after Bill in pursuit of the horse. “I’ll have the law on ye!” His coat tails streamed in the wind as he raced away.
Noddy had stopped mid-way in his rush at Bob as the horse broke loose.
“Well, are you going to fight?” asked Bob coolly.
But Noddy’s desire for battle seemed to have left him suddenly. He realized that he was no match for the three, or even for two, of the boys.
“I’ll get square with you for this,” he muttered as he slunk away in the bushes. “I’ve several scores to settle with you three cubs.”
“Better settle ’em here and now,” advised Jerry. “It’s a good chance.”
“You just wait,” was all Noddy would say. Soon he disappeared in the shrubbery.
“Well, I thought for a while there was going to be trouble,” said Bob, with a laugh. “Noddy certainly seemed mad.”
“Well, I don’t see any need of staying here any longer,” said Ned at length. “It doesn’t seem as if the countryman or Bill would come back. If that man with the horse wants any pay let him call and collect. He didn’t treat us very nicely. As for Noddy, I guess he’s far enough off by now.”
“I wonder what he was doing out this way?” asked Bob.
“Yes, and lately Bill Berry is always with him,” commented Ned.
“They’re up to no good, you can be sure of that,” was Jerry’s opinion, in which the others shared.
Then, mounting their motor-cycles, the three boys made good speed home, meeting with no more fractious horses and puncturing no more tires.
CHAPTER XIV.
A FIRE AND A DISCOVERY.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!”
Loud shouts of this dreadful alarm, mingled with the ringing of bells, the tooting of whistles and the hurrying of many feet awoke Jerry late one night, three days after the encounter in the road with the countryman and his skittish horse.
“Fire! Fire! Fire!” yelled men and boys hastening down the street.
“Where’s the blaze?” asked Jerry, throwing open his window and calling down to those running past.
“Judson’s mill!” was the cry. “Looks like a big fire!”
Jerry looked in the direction of the mill, and saw a glare in the sky.
“I’m going!” he exclaimed.
“Oh Jerry, you might get hurt,” objected Mrs. Hopkins.
“I’ll be careful, mother,” replied the boy, rapidly dressing.
On his way to the blaze he met Ned, who had also been awakened from his sleep by the alarm. The two boys hurried toward the mill, to which point it seemed as if every one in Cresville was hastening. The glare in the sky grew brighter.
“Here comes one of the engines!” cried Ned, as the apparatus dashed past. It was one of two new steamers recently purchased.
“Hurry up, and let’s see it work!” called Jerry, and the boys increased their run.
“How’d the mill catch fire?” panted Ned.
“I—didn’t—hear,” answered Jerry, breathing hard.
In a little while they were at the scene of the blaze. One of the smaller buildings of the mill was burning furiously. Smoke, flames and sparks were spouting from the roof, which was almost consumed.
Up dashed the engines. Connections were quickly made to hydrants, and soon two good sized streams were playing on the flames. The puffing of the steamers, the snapping and crackle of the flames, the shouts of those looking on, the yells of the firemen and the crash as pieces of the burning building fell in, made a din that was chaotic.
“Stand back boys!” exclaimed one of the firemen. “We want to run a hose in that gate.”
The boys made room and were now joined by Bob.
“Can we go in?” asked Jerry. “We’ll keep well back.”
The gate in front of which they stood gave access to the mill yard, at a point quite a distance from the fire.
“I guess it won’t do any harm,” answered the fireman who was a good natured man. “But keep well back in case the walls fall. We don’t want any one to get hurt.”
“We’ll be careful,” promised Jerry, and the boys followed the fire-fighter within the gate, helping him drag the hose, which was twisting and turning like a snake trying to get loose, so strong was the water pressure.
At last the fury of the fire seemed to have spent itself. The flames died down and all that remained to do was to wet down the ruins thoroughly to prevent any sparks from flying to other departments of the mill. The blaze had been confined to the building where it started, and, in spite of the excitement over it, the damage had been small.
“I’m glad it didn’t get into my office,” remarked Mr. Judson, the mill owner, who had arrived on the scene soon after the fire started. “All my valuable books and papers would have been destroyed.”
“Yes, you got off pretty lucky,” said the chief.
“Thanks to the hard work you and your men did,” Mr. Judson replied. “I won’t forget it, I assure you.”
“We only did our duty,” responded the chief modestly. “It’s our business to put out fires.”
There was not much more of interest to see, and the three boys, as did a number of others, began to think of going home.
Ned, Jerry and Bob started from the mill yard. As they passed a pile of lumber near the gate Ned gave one of the boards a careless kick. There was a rattling sound and a small round object rolled out at his feet.
“What’s that?” asked Jerry.
“Look’s like a tin can,” observed Bob.
Ned picked it up to examine it better, for it was now quite dark, the fire giving only a faint glow.
“Look at this!” Ned cried, holding out the object.
“It’s a burglar’s dark lantern!” exclaimed Bob. “I saw one just like it that the police took from a thief. It is over to police headquarters.”
“Wonder who put it there?” asked Jerry.
“It’s hard to—” began Ned, and then he stopped. Dropping to his knees he reached his hand into the hole from whence the dark lantern had rolled. He groped around a few seconds and then drew out his hand.
“I’ve found ’em,” he said.
“What?” asked Jerry.
“The things I was looking for,” and Ned held up to view in the faint gleam from the burned building a cold chisel and a hammer.
“What are they for?” asked Bob, not seeing the connection of the dark lantern and the tools just found.
“These are the things the mill safe was robbed with,” replied Ned. “The lantern made the light that puzzled me that night I came past, and with this cold chisel and hammer the lock was cut out. The thief must have hidden the things under the boards as he ran away with the money. It was on his route as he passed out of the gate.”
“This mill robbery seems to follow us,” observed Jerry. “Every once in a while something about it crops out.”
“Yes,” commented Ned. “I saw the robbery being committed, or rather I was there while it was being done, we learned about the queer bank bill and Noddy’s connection with it, and now we have discovered the tools that were used.”
“All we need to do next is to recover the money,” said Bob.
“And find the thief,” said Ned.
“I fancy that won’t be difficult to do,” added Bob. “If Noddy—”
“Hush!” exclaimed Ned, “some one is coming! Let’s get out of here!”
Hurriedly Ned hid under his coat the lantern, the hammer and chisel, and the three boys passed out of the mill yard.
“What are you chaps doin’ here?” demanded a rough voice, and Bill Berry shuffled up, looking sharply at first one and then another.
“We were watching the fire,” replied Ned politely. “Any objections, Mr. Berry?”
“You boys better keep away from here,” growled Bill. “I reckon Mr. Judson don’t want another robbery.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Jerry. “Do you mean that we robbed the mill?”
“Well you might and then agin you mightn’t,” mumbled Bill. “I ain’t sayin’ as how you did, and I ain’t sayin’ as how you didn’t. You’d better move on.”
“We’ve as much right here as you have, Bill Berry,” said Bob. “We’re ready to go and we’re going; all you may say wouldn’t move us, as long as Mr. Judson didn’t object to our being here.”
“That’ll do for you,” muttered Bill, as he shuffled away.
“Did you catch the horse and win the five dollars?” inquired Jerry, referring to the countryman’s fractious steed that ran away.
Bill’s only answer was a growl.
“Come on, let’s get home and go to bed,” suggested Bob.
“Take good care of those tools,” warned Jerry. Ned promised to do so; and there the talk came to an end.
CHAPTER XV.
NED UNDER SUSPICION.
It was quite early in the morning some days later when Bob called at Jerry’s house.
“Hello, Chunky!” greeted Jerry as he came to the door, having finished a bountiful breakfast. “What’s up now?”
“Thought maybe you might like to take a ride off in the country,” replied the stout youth, panting a bit from having to push his motor up the little incline leading to his chum’s front door.
“Nothing would suit me better,” said the male representative of the Hopkins family. “Where is it to this time?”
“What do you say to a trip over to Limestone Creek? We can go fishing.”
“I’m with you. Ned will go, of course?”
“Yes, he is waiting.”
Mrs. Slade, on Ned’s request, had the cook put up a basket of bread and butter, some cake and cheese, which Bob fastened to his machine. Then, the fishing tackle having been stowed away on Jerry’s motor the three chums started off.
Limestone Creek was a stream about ten miles from Cresville. It was a noted fishing place, and many a fat chub or speckled trout had been pulled from the sparkling waters. It was a hot August day, but the boys did not mind the burning rays of the sun. Part of the way they rode along under big trees that gave a refreshing shade, and occasionally there was a little breeze to cool them off.
“Here we are,” cried Jerry at length as he turned his machine from the main road, into a narrow path that led through a green field to the brook. “This way to the fishing banks!”
“Yes, and if you yell that way all the fish will be scared away,” expostulated Ned. “Make a little less noise if you want any luck.”
“Good idea,” chimed in Bob. He soon had the lines in shape, and then, taking out his knife, cut a slim willow pole that would serve excellently for fishing. The others followed his example, and soon all three were sitting on the grassy bank, while the cork floats bobbed lightly in the swirl of the eddy which formed the “old fishing hole.”
Luck was good with the young disciples of Isaak Walton, and they soon had a dozen choice fish among them. Then, as the sun was high in the sky, and it was hot sitting on the bank, the boys adjourned to the shade of the tree where they had left their cycles.
“Now for dinner!” cried Bob.
“Let’s draw lots to see who makes the fire, who cleans the fish and who cooks them,” suggested Ned.
Ten minutes later an appetizing aroma filled the summer air.
“Ah! Maybe that ain’t good!” cried Bob.
“Beats restaurants all to pieces!” was Ned’s opinion.
Then with the bread and butter they had brought along, with the seasoning for the fish, fresh crullers and cheese, the whole washed down with water from a clear cool spring near by, the boys made a meal that even a king might have envied.
Dinner over they lolled lazily beneath the trees until the sun was low in the west. Bob proposed a walk along the creek as he wanted to see if there were any evidences of musk-rats nests in a certain place.
“Will it be safe to leave the machines here?” asked Jerry. “Some one might come along and ride off with them.”
“It would take more than one person to get away with all three,” Bob said. “But we can take out the spark plugs, and unless the thieves have duplicates along they won’t get very far.”
Removing the plugs, the boys walked along the stream for half a mile. They found no musk-rats nests, and Bob, remarking that they could come back another day and make a better search, proposed a return trip.
It did not take long to reach the places where they had left their machines. The spark plugs were put back, and, after finishing what few crullers remained, the three boys trundled their motors out into the path.
“Here goes for home!” cried Ned, as he vaulted into his saddle. He got his cycle started by foot power and then attempted to throw the power on. Nothing but a faint sound of air being exhausted from the cylinders responded.
“Something’s wrong!” cried the boy.
At the same time the other two discovered that their machines would not work. Again and again they tried but with no result.
“Some one has cut the wires!” exclaimed Bob. “You can see where they split the insulation, shoved it to one side, broke the copper, and then put the insulation back to cover up the mean trick.”
“You’re right!” exclaimed Ned. “I’d like to catch the fellow who did it.”
Suddenly Jerry darted over toward the tree beneath which the cycles had been standing. He stooped down and picked up something which he looked at closely.
“I fancy this will give us a clue,” he said, showing a knife with an opened blade, to which there clung some of the insulation from the copper wires.
“Whose is it?” asked Bob.
“It has the initials N. N. on it,” replied Jerry.
“And there’s only one person around here who has a name with those letters,” put in Bob.
“There might be more,” said Jerry, inclined to be cautious, “but I happen to remember that Noddy Nixon had a knife like this. I saw him use it once.”
“This is his first move in getting square, as he would call it,” ventured Ned.
“Still it is only circumstantial evidence against him,” reasoned Bob. “And we had better have more before we accuse him.”
“Of course,” agreed Ned. “I think—”
“Which of you boys happens to be Ned Slade?” interrupted a voice, and the boys turned to see a short, stout fussy man gravely regarding them.
“Ah, I thought so,” he remarked as Ned gave an involuntary start. “Then you are the one I want to see.”
“What for?” asked the owner of the name.
“Well—er—I don’t like to speak of it in public.”
“I haven’t anything to conceal,” spoke Ned.
“Then if you haven’t I haven’t,” said the little man. “I’m Sheriff Blackwell of Peterstown, and I want to talk to you about a robbery.”
“What! Not the robbery of Mr. Judson’s mill?” asked Ned, greatly excited. “Why I—”
“Now I may as well warn you right now, that whatever you say will be used against you,” said the sheriff. “Now that I’ve done my duty in giving the warning, go ahead if you want to.”
“But you—you—why you surely don’t think I robbed the mill?” asked Ned, flushing with shame at the thought.
“Very good, but you can’t get anything out of me, young man,” said the sheriff with a wise nod. “I cut my eye teeth years ago. You’ll have to come with me, at least for a while. I reckon you can get bail.”
“Bail! Come with you! What do you mean?” asked Ned, while his two chums stood looking on, not knowing what to do.
“Look here,” began the fussy little sheriff. “You were at the mill on the night of the robbery, weren’t you?”
“I—er—that is I was—er—”
“Of course,” said the sheriff. “I knew you were. And you never said anything about it when we were hunting for clues, did you?”
“I told my two chums, Jerry and Bob, here,” said Ned.
“That’s right,” chimed in Jerry, and Bob nodded his head in assent.
“I’m acting on information and belief,” went on the sheriff. “Certain knowledge has come to me from a man who saw you at the mill on the night of the robbery. It looks as if you might know something about it, that is, who did it, and who has the money. I might add that suspicion points strongly to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes. Can you give us any clue that would indicate that some one else might be involved?”
Ned hesitated an instant. He looked quickly at Jerry, who shook his head slightly, to indicate to Ned to have nothing to say about having seen Noddy.
“I can’t give you any information,” said Ned slowly.
“Then you’ll have to come with me,” went on the sheriff.
“May I ask,” inquired Ned, “who told you that I might be the guilty person?”
“A gentleman of Cresville, named William Berry.”
“Bill Berry!” exclaimed Ned. “I—” and then he stopped.
“I didn’t lose any time,” the representative of the law continued. “I drove over from Peterstown this morning. By judicious inquiries I learned you and two other boys had come over here. I followed. The law knows no delays. Are you ready to come?”
“I have my motor cycle with me,” said Ned. “Can I go on that?”
“If I let you ride your machine will you promise to go slow, and not try to escape? I’ll drive along in my carriage.”
“I’ll promise,” said Ned, the deep flush not having left his face.
“Then we’ll consider that arranged. Come on.”
Slowly, and in depressed spirits, greatly in contrast to the gaiety with which they had arrived, the three boys trundled their machines, the wires of which had been quickly repaired, to the road. The sheriff untied his horse, got in the carriage, and cautioning Ned to run his machine at reduced speed, followed the boys who felt very little inclined for talk. They were so worried that they left their fish behind.
Eventually Cresville was reached. Ned, much as he was humiliated by his technical arrest, knew he could easily prove his innocence. But he felt that the mystery of the mill robbery was deepening.
“I’ll go right to your house with you,” said the sheriff to Ned. “We will have a talk with your father, and I have no doubt we can come to some understanding.”
Mr. Slade was surprised, incensed and puzzled by turns when the fussy little sheriff in charge of Ned called on him. The arm and majesty of the law soon explained what had taken place.
“This Mr. Berry is sure he saw your son at the mill,” repeated the sheriff.
“I wouldn’t depend too much on Berry’s word,” said the merchant.
“I was at the mill that night,” exclaimed Ned. Then he related what he had seen, all about the queer light, the presence of Bill Berry, and the finding of the tools and dark lantern. He only refrained from mentioning Noddy’s name, since he did not feel justified in bringing him in, no matter what his suspicions were concerning the bully.
“Great Snakes and little fishes!” exclaimed the sheriff, when Ned had finished. “I wish I had known this at the time. I guess we’ll have to hold you, as a witness, at least, my boy.”
But Ned’s father had sufficient standing in the town to render unnecessary any formal proceedings in holding Ned, and the sheriff departed without his one-time prisoner, on Ned’s promise to give evidence when wanted.
CHAPTER XVI.
PLANS FOR A MOTOR-CYCLE RACE.
“Well, Ned,” said Mr. Slade when the sheriff had gone, “you came close to getting into trouble. Why didn’t you mention to me something about seeing the light in the mill.”
“I thought of it,” replied the boy, “but after I talked it over with Bob and Jerry we decided it was better not to say anything about it. Besides, I haven’t told all yet.”
“What? Is there more to tell?”
“Yes. I saw some one besides Bill Berry at the mill that night.”
“Who?”
“Noddy Nixon,” and then Ned told of meeting Noddy with the box of bait, as the bully had called it. He also related what the three boys had planned to do in keeping watch of Noddy, and of the odd bank bill.
“I think it would have been wise to tell some older person of all this,” commented Mr. Slade. “Still I appreciate that you did not want to cast suspicion on any one. And, as you say, it is only a vague suspicion as yet. Noddy may be as innocent as you. I would like to know more of this Bill Berry.”
“He knows who robbed the mill,” said Ned.
“What makes you think so?”
“Because he was looking right in the office door when the light was visible.”
“If he knew why should he cast suspicion on you?”
“I don’t know, unless it is to draw attention from some one else.”
“You mean Noddy?”
Ned nodded his head affirmatively.
“Think no more about it; at least for the present,” advised Mr. Slade. “I will see to the legal end of it, and take care you are not again annoyed by the sheriff unless it is necessary to give evidence. I would urge you and your two chums to keep quiet about this.”
The boy promised, and both Bob and Jerry agreed to say nothing of the latest development in the mill robbery mystery when Ned had told them of the outcome of the sheriff’s act.
For several days after this it was so hot that the boys stayed quietly at home instead of taking trips on their machines. Toward the end of the week, however, there came several heavy thunder showers that cooled the air, laid the dust, and made traveling pleasant. It was on Saturday afternoon that the three chums went for another short spin.
Coming back they stopped at the Athletic club house. Leaving their wheels in charge of the caretaker they went to the refreshment room to have some soda and ice cream.
“I say, what’s this?” exclaimed Ned, catching sight of a large notice fastened on the wall. “Come here Chunky and Jerry. This looks as if it was meant for us.”
Rapidly the three boys read an announcement that the Cresville club had decided to hold a grand motor cycle meet, open to competitors of all classes and all makes of machines, not over two cylinders in size. There were to be three prizes. The first was to be optional with the winner and of the value of two thousand dollars, the second one thousand dollars and the third five hundred dollars. Articles worth these amounts would be given, it was stated, and entries would be received until within a week of the race, which was to be on September 20.
“What do you think of that, Chunky?” asked Ned.
“It seems to hit us in the right spot,” replied the heavy-weight youth. “I’m going to enter.”
“So am I,” came from Ned and Jerry in a chorus.
“Wouldn’t it be great if one of us could win the first prize?” inquired Jerry. “Think of getting something worth two thousand dollars.”
“I wonder what I’d take if I won?” asked Bob of no one in particular.
“I think we have as good a chance of winning as any one,” proceeded Jerry.
“I don’t doubt it,” agreed Ned.
“Then let’s agree,” and Jerry’s face was serious, “that if any of us captures that first prize we’ll select an automobile touring car.”
“An automobile?” exclaimed Ned.
“A touring car?” cried Bob.
“Certainly. Why not? Isn’t that better than a horse, or a motor boat? Think what it would mean. We could travel all over,—make a tour of the United States perhaps. Yes, sir, that’s the ticket! If we win let’s get a touring car. What do you say, boys?”
For a few seconds the very audacity of the idea seemed to stagger Ned and Bob. They gradually recovered, and their eyes shone as they realized the possibilities of the plan.
“We’ll do it!” exclaimed Ned.
“That’s what we will!” asserted Bob.
“Then all we have to do is to go in and win that first prize,” concluded Jerry. “We must begin practice at once.”
“And there isn’t the least doubt but what you’ll win,” exclaimed a mocking voice suddenly.
The boys turned, to behold Noddy Nixon grinning at them.
“Not the least in the world,” went on the bully in tantalizing tones. “In fact I don’t see why they hold any contest at all. The club might as well give you boys all three prizes. It would save a lot of work.”
“Look here—,” began Bob, but Ned placed a quieting hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t reply to him,” said Ned. “It may make trouble.”
“You think because you won a little race a while ago that you can go in a big one,” went on Noddy. “But you’ll find that this is a different matter.”
“I suppose you’re going to enter?” asked Jerry.
“Is it any of your business if I do?” inquired Noddy.
“None at all,” replied Jerry. “Only if you do decide to start in the races you might find this handy, in case you had to cut any wires, you know,” and he handed Noddy the knife with the initials N. N. that the boys had found the day their cycles were disabled in the field.
“What’s that?” asked Noddy, not seeing at first what it was that Jerry held toward him.
“It’s a knife that I think belongs to you,” said Jerry. “It has been used to cut wires with,” he went on, “and it may come in handy for that purpose again.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Noddy responded, but a deep blush dyed his face and he looked very uncomfortable.
“Then you don’t care to claim this?” asked Jerry as he saw Noddy turn aside.
“It isn’t mine; why should I?” Noddy asked in turn, though the boys knew he was telling an untruth.
“Very well,” Jerry said, replacing the knife in his pocket as Noddy hurried from the room.
“He’s a cool one,” commented Ned.
“That’s what he is,” assented Bob. “If he only knew all we know he would act differently.”
“But it’s not time to say anything yet,” counseled Jerry. “We must go slow.”
The boys resumed their talk about the coming motor cycle races. They discussed the questions from all sides, and decided that, accidents excepted, they had at any rate as good a chance of winning, at least one of the prizes, as any one else.
“We’ll form a community of interests,” said Bob. “We’ll race separately, but whoever wins pledges himself to get a touring automobile, if one can be had for the amount of the prize, and share it with the others. Is that a go?”
“It is,” said Jerry.
“Every time, as far as I am concerned,” was Ned’s answer.
CHAPTER XVII.
CAUGHT IN THE STORM.
“We ought to begin our training for the motor cycle race soon,” said Jerry one morning, when he stopped at Ned’s house, coming back from the post-office.
“I guess you’re right,” Ned assented. “I think a few good long trips on the road as a starter would be a fine thing. What we need most is an endurance run, for that’s what will count in the twenty-five mile race that we are going to compete in.”
“I was thinking of that myself,” Jerry remarked. “What would you say to a pretty long trip, say one hundred miles? We could run to Huntsville, which is about sixty miles from here as I figure it, stay there all night, and come back the next day. That would give us good practice.”
“Sounds as if it might do,” was Ned’s opinion. “Let’s go over and talk to Bob about it.”
Eight o’clock the next morning saw them assembled in Bob’s yard, for it had been agreed to start from his house. The last touches were given the machines and, at a signal from Jerry, the trip was begun.
“Where are we going to stop for dinner?” asked Bob, when they had been riding about an hour.
“There he goes,” said Jerry in a pretended complaining voice. “I never did see such a fellow! You’d think he was all stomach.”
“Why,” began Ned soberly, “Jerry and I had about made up our minds that we’d go without dinner. It will be good training and you need it you know, Chunky.”
“Oh!” groaned the stout youth. “Oh dear! If I had known that I wouldn’t have come along. I can’t go without my dinner.”
There was silence for a little while, broken now and again by a deep sigh from Bob. Jerry and Ned had all they could do to keep from laughing, but they managed to keep their faces serious.
“Let’s speed up a bit,” suggested the stout boy, after a time.
“What for?” asked Ned.
“Dinner time will come and pass quicker then,” explained the hungry one. “Maybe we won’t notice it at all. But I surely will be glad when supper time comes.”
“No, we agreed to run slowly,” Jerry remarked, “and we must stick to our plan.”
Bob sighed but said nothing. On and on they rode, along pleasant highways, under big shady trees, up hill and down dale. At last, when the sun was almost at the zenith, they came to the top of a hill that led down into a pretty valley.
In the centre of the vale, which was surrounded on all sides by green wooded hills, nestled a village.
“That’s the town of Montville,” said Jerry. “We are half way to Huntsville now.”
“Are we going to stop here?” asked Bob, a note of hope coming into his voice.
“What for?” inquired Ned, winking at Jerry.
“I—er—thought—er—we—” began Bob.
“Own up! It was dinner you were thinking of, now wasn’t it Chunky?”
“Yes, it was,” admitted Bob in desperation.
Jerry and Ned laughed outright.
“I don’t see anything so very funny,” exclaimed Bob, who was not in the best of humor. “If you had the appetite I have you wouldn’t want to laugh.”
By this time the boys had reached the village and were riding through the streets. People turned to stare at them, but the chums were used to that by this time. They steered past a hotel.
“Ah! Um! Doesn’t that smell good!” cried Ned, tilting his nose high in the air and sniffing vigorously. “I’ll bet they have ham and eggs!”
“Just what I was wishing for,” groaned Bob. “I’m going to have my dinner, training or no training, race or no race,” and, with a determined look he got off his machine.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed Bob’s two chums.
“I wondered how much longer we could keep up the joke,” Jerry said, when he had ceased chuckling. “You were easy, Chunky.”
“Then we are going to have dinner?” asked Bob, all his ill humor gone.
“That’s just what we are, Chunky, my boy!” exclaimed Jerry. “We were only fooling you.”
They all sat down to a bountifully spread table a little later, and Ned and Jerry were almost sorry for the anguish they had caused their chum, when they saw, by the quantity of ham and eggs he consumed, how really hungry he had been.
Dinner over, the three boys sat about on the hotel piazza for an hour. They were plied with questions as to the working of their machines by about a score of boys and youths who had gathered to see the motors operated, Jerry kindly went into details and entertained the little audience for some time.
“Well, I think we’d better be going,” said Jerry to his chums at length. “It’s two o’clock and we can just about reach Huntsville by night.”
“You’re goin’ t’ git ketched in a storm,” said the hotel keeper.
“Think so?” inquired Jerry.
“I know it.” The man pointed to where a bank of dark clouds were accumulating in the west. “Thunder storm coming as sure as guns is guns.”
“Well, we’ll ride on, and if we have to take to shelter I guess we can find it,” Jerry said. “We don’t mind a little rain. We’re out for practice.”
“Well, good luck to ye,” called the hotel man after the three boys, as they rode down the village street. “Stop in agin when ye’re in this direction.”
For a time it seemed as if the prediction of the storm was not going to be verified. The bank of clouds grew no larger, and the sun still shone. The boys speeded up a bit as they struck a stretch of good road.
“Hark! What was that?” asked Ned.
“Sounded like thunder,” replied Jerry.
There was no doubt of it a minute later, for the distant rumble of the sky-artillery could easily be distinguished. The wind, which had died away, began to blow stronger, and the clouds spread over the heavens and were blacker.
“It won’t break for half an hour,” was Ned’s opinion. “We can ride on through a little rain, but if it gets too bad we can turn into some barn.”
In less than fifteen minutes the first drops splashed down. The rumble of thunder grew louder, and there were vivid spurts and tongues of lightning leaping across the black vapor masses.
Crack! sounded a report so loud that it seemed as if lightning had struck near by. For a moment there was no apparent increase in the fury of the storm. Then came a flash so bright that it seemed as if the whole heavens had been lighted up. It was followed by a terrifying crash that fairly shook the earth, and then came a deluge of water that almost hid the three boys one from another as it poured down from the clouds.
“We’d better get out of this!” cried Jerry. “It seems to be getting worse. Put on full speed! I saw a house a little way ahead. We’ll stop there until this is over!”
Ned and Bob could just hear Jerry through the noise the storm made, though the boy was shouting at the top of his voice.
The storm was at its height now. The lightning seemed incessant, and the thunder claps followed one after the other so closely that it was a continual roar. The wind was a regular gale, driving the rain with stinging force into the faces of the riders.
“Here we are!” yelled Jerry presently. “Turn in!”
Dimly through the rain Ned and Bob could see their chum steering through a drive-way alongside of a white house on the left of the highway. They followed him, and soon found themselves in front of a barn, to which the drive-way led.
“Hurry up inside!” Jerry called. “And bring the machines in with you!”
The motors were stopped and three drenched boys trundled them into the shelter of the barn, the doors of which Jerry had found unlocked, and had managed to open.
“Whew! This is a storm!” exclaimed Ned, wiping the water from his eyes.
“Storm! I should say so—terrible—fearful! Worst one in twenty-one years! Hundreds of people struck! Houses burned! Barns blown over! Awful! Awful! Hello! Bob, Ned and Jerry! Where’d you come from? Glad to see you—come in—shut the door—get up in the hay and dry off—this is the worst ever!” and then the voice, that had uttered all this in one breath stopped, and the three chums who had started in surprise as the torrent of words began, turned to behold their friend Andy Rush.
“Well, how in the world did you get here?” asked Jerry, taking off his cap and wringing the water from it.
“On a visit—my Aunt Jane lives here—nice lady—she’ll be glad to see you—lots to eat—I’m having a fine time—came out here to feed the horse—storm came up—I didn’t want to get wet—say how’d you get here?”
“The same old Andy,” murmured Ned to Bob. “He’ll beat the storm for wind.”
“We were going to Huntsville on our motors,” Jerry explained, “and we got caught in the deluge. Do you suppose your aunt will mind if we stay here a while?”
“Not a bit—glad to have you—Whoop! That was a cracker—bet it struck the house!” cried Andy, as a louder clap of thunder than usual fairly shook the barn.
Andy ran to the door and peered through a crack in the direction of the house.
“Nope, it’s all right,” he called, in a sort of disappointed tone. “No damage done—but say—I’m glad you happened to strike this place—how’s things in Cresville? I’ve been here a week—fishing—riding horses—milking cows—lots of fun—can’t you stay a few days—I know a dandy place to fish—catch big suckers—chub—Aunt Jane will give you lots to eat—whoop!”
Andy could not seem to keep still. He hurried around in the barn, and, to give vent to his feelings he crawled up on a high beam, and jumped down in a big pile of hay.
The three chums were laughing so they could hardly speak. When they ceased Jerry thanked Andy for the invitation, but said they had made other plans.
“But you can stay all night,” suggested Andy, calming down a bit. “The roads will be bad after this storm. You can go to Huntsville in the morning. It’s only ten miles from here.”
The idea appealed to the boys. The storm showed no signs of stopping, and they knew it would be impossible to go on while it lasted. As Andy had said, they could proceed in the morning, and there was no special need of reaching Huntsville anyhow, except that they wanted to carry out the arrangements they had made, and make a trip of over a hundred miles.
The evening was pleasantly spent in talking, singing and playing games. Andy’s uncle wanted the three chums to remain over a day or two, but, though they thanked him for the invitation they decided to push on the next morning, complete their scheduled trip, and then return home.