CHAPTER XXXVI.
FOILING AN ENEMY.
It took Lemuel Akers quite some time to perfect his plans against our hero, for he realized that he would have to move cautiously.
He kept out of sight of Joe and his friends, and none of them imagined the rascal was around.
Joe had taken up his quarters at a private house in the suburbs of the city.
Paul and Dick were constantly with him. The three ate, drank, and slept together.
Two days before the great race was to come off Joe retired a little earlier than usual, after a substantial supper.
There were a double and a single bed in the room. Joe and Paul occupied the double bed, while Dick slept in the other.
All went sound asleep, and the room became quiet excepting for the irregular breathing of the trio.
The window which overlooked a side addition to the house was half-open, to admit fresh air into the bedchamber.
A quarter of an hour went by, and then the form of a young man appeared on the roof outside of the window.
The midnight prowler was Lemuel Akers. His coat was buttoned tightly about his neck, his hat was pulled over his eyes, and a handkerchief was tied partly over his face.
As cautiously as a cat Lemuel approached the window and peered in.
“All asleep,” he thought. “Now to work, and then we will see whether Joe Johnson rides in that race or not.”
Without the slightest noise he entered the room.
From his coat pocket he took a small bottle, and pouring some of the liquor it contained on a sponge, he approached the bed upon which Dick Burns lay.
He applied the sponge to Dick’s nose.
The sponge contained chloroform, and soon Dick was overcome.
“Number one!” muttered Lemuel Akers to himself.
Paul Johnson was next approached.
As Lemuel was working with the sponge, Joe turned over on his other side.
As quick as a flash Akers tried to drop down out of sight. In making the move his foot struck a rocking chair, causing a sharp noise.
Instantly Joe sat up.
“Who is there?” he cried. “Dick, was that you?”
Of course, poor Dick could not answer. The question aroused Paul, who was but partly overcome.
“Wha—what’s the matter?” he stammered.
“Dick!” again called Joe.
He looked toward his chum. Dick lay there so still that he grew full of fear and leaped out of bed.
He almost landed on top of Lemuel Akers, who dodged and tried to find the door to the hallway.
“Stop! stop!” called out Joe, and he made a dash after the intruder.
He caught Lemuel by the arm.
The young rascal threw him off, but Joe was plucky, and, though not yet fully aroused, he again went after his enemy.
The two grappled by the door and rolled over and over on the floor, upsetting a table and a chair.
By this time Paul was able to come to Joe’s assistance.
“Let me go!” cried Akers.
“Lemuel Akers!” cried Joe, as he recognized the voice.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I won’t let you go. What are you doing in this room?”
“I—I got in by mistake.”
“Well, you won’t go out by mistake,” retorted Joe grimly. “Turn on the gas, Paul.”
By this time the entire household was in commotion. Several came running to the room, asking what was the matter.
“I’ve caught a thief, and worse,” said Joe. “Lie still, Lemuel.”
“Lemuel Akers!” cried Paul Johnson, after the gas was lit.
“What are you going to do with me?” whined Lemuel.
He was now thoroughly cowed and utterly miserable.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” replied Joe coldly.
While some saw to it that the rascal did not escape, Joe and others attended to Dick, who soon came around all right, although he suffered with a headache all of the next day.
Then Lemuel Akers was searched. The bottle of chloroform was taken from him, as was also another drug, something of a very harmful nature, which he had intended to administer to Joe.
“You are too much of a villain to be allowed at large,” said Joe. “Call an officer and have him taken to jail.”
“Never!” cried Lemuel, and breaking his bonds, he leaped out of the room and down a back stairs.
Joe had to wait to don his clothing. Then he went after the former bully of Lockport.
The yard gained he caught a brief vision of the bully on the top of the back fence.
“Come back!” he yelled.
“To the Old Nick with you, Joe Johnson!” returned the bad boy, and then dropped from the fence and started down a lane as fast as his feet would carry him.
In three seconds Joe was over the fence and in pursuit.
It was now a question of speed between the two.