CHAPTER VI
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
As just related, the boys had brought the Spray as closely inshore as possible. All were now in the cabin, Dick and Tom attending to Sam's wants; and consequently no one noticed the passage of one of the palatial steamers that make daily trips between New York and the capital of the State.
These steamers, in running so fast, cast out long rollers on both sides that go tumbling shoreward one after another. The rollers now caught the Spray and sent her dancing up and down like a cork.
"Hullo, we're in danger!" shouted Tom, and rushed for the deck, with Dick almost at his heels. The anchor was dragging, and unless pushed off the yacht would soon be pounding on the rocks.
"I'll put up the sail!" roared Dick. "You bring up the anchor!"
"I guess you had better pole her off," replied Tom.
Nevertheless, he did as Dick requested, working like a beaver.
The wind was still faint, and when the mainsail was hoisted it failed to fill. Seeing this, Dick seized a pole and Tom did the same. They speedily found that they could not send the yacht out any distance. But, with a pole at the bow and another at the stern, they managed to keep her off the rocks until the rollers began to go down. Then they shoved off with ease and moved slowly up the river.
"I'll tell you what, in handling a boat you have got to have your weather eye open all the time," observed Tom.
"Yes, and you want to have it open on all sides of you," smiled
Dick. "If you don't, you'll catch it before you are aware."
Sam lay on one of the tiny berths with which the Spray was provided. His face was deathly white, and, to use his own words, he felt "as weak as a rag."
"I'm just beginning to realize how close to death I was," he whispered to Tom. "It was awfully good of you and Dick to do what you did."
"Pooh! you would do just as much for us, Sam," answered the fun-loving brother. But, just the same, he gave Sam's hand a tight squeeze on the quiet.
"What was that thumping, Tom?" asked the younger brother a bit later.
"The rollers from a big steamer nearly put us on the rocks."
"Gracious, more perils! Don't you think we had better give up our outing on the water?"
"It will come to an end in a few days, Sam. We'll make the trip to Albany, and that will be the last of it."
It was nightfall by the time they came up to the capital city. Getting the necessary permission to tie up at one of the private wharves, they locked up the cabin of the Spray and went ashore.
"Tom Rover, as I live! And Dick and Sam, too!"
The cry came from up the street, and soon a boy of Dick's age was running to meet them. It was Frank Harrington, their old school chum and room-mate of Dormitory No. 6.
"Frank!" came from the three, and a general handshaking followed.
"What brings you here?" asked Dick.
"Why, don't you know, my folks moved up to Albany from New York—father's in the State Senate now, you know," returned Frank, with pride.
"Oh, that's so—and you are a senator's son," put in Tom. "I guess we'll have to tip our hats to you after this and call you Mr. Harrington."
"Stow it, Tom, and keep your jokes until school opens," interrupted Frank. "Yes, we live here, and I thought you knew all about it. I sent you a letter."
"We've been away from home for several weeks," explained Dick, and told of their outing on the water.
"It must be jolly. My father owns a boat, but we seldom use it. So you are going to stay in Albany over tomorrow? If that's the case you must come up to our house. I won't hear of your going to a hotel."
"Will that arrangement suit your folks?" questioned Dick.
"Oh, yes! The girls are all away—down to Asbury Park—and so is mother; and father and I and the servants have the whole mansion to ourselves. I can tell you, it's just a bit lonely at times, and I'm real glad you came," concluded Frank.
"If your father is a senator perhaps you can get us a pass through the Capitol building," put in Sam.
"You won't need a pass. I'll go with you. But, Sam, you look sick."
Sam's tale had to be told to Frank, who, meanwhile, led the way to a street car. Boarding this, the boys soon reached the Harrington mansion, located on one of Albany's finest thoroughfares. Here they met Senator Harrington and were speedily introduced.
"I've heard of you before," smiled the senator. He was a pleasant-looking man of forty-five. "Frank says the Rover boys were the whole school—or something like that."
At this there was a laugh. "I guess he must have been one of the
Rovers, then," rejoined Tom; "he was just as good as any of us."
And then there was another laugh, and the newcomers felt
perfectly at home.
There was a concert company in town, and, receiving permission from his father to do so, Frank took his friends to see the performance. The singing was very good; and, despite the fact that it was still warm weather, the concert hall was packed.
The program was a long one, and, with the numerous encores, did not come to an end until nearly eleven o'clock.
"That was immense," remarked Tom, when they were coming out. "I wish I could sing like that tenor."
"We ought to get up a quartet at the Hall," put in Frank. "I understand they had a singing club year before last."
"We're going to have a banjo club," said Dick.
"Larry Colby wrote to me about it. He has a new banjo that cost fifteen dollars, and he—"
Dick broke off short as a slouchy-looking man brushed against him. The eyes of the man and the boy met, and then the man disappeared in the crowd as if by magic.
"Well, I never!"
"What's the matter, Dick?" came from all the others.
"Didn't you see him?"
"See who?"
"Buddy Girk, the tramp thief, the fellow who used to train with
Dan Baxter's father."
"What, the fellow who stole your watch and broke jail at
Rootville?" came from Tom.
"The same."
"Where is he now?" questioned Sam.
"I don't know. The instant he saw me he skipped."
"I'll wager he wasn't in the crowd for any good purpose," went on Dick, as he remembered how he had suffered the loss of his timepiece at Buddy Girk's hands. Dick had had a good deal of trouble in recovering the article.
"He ought to be pointed out to the police," put in Frank. "It's not safe to have such men at large."
"I wish I could collar him and make him talk about father's affairs," grumbled Tom.
"Why, did he know anything of your father's affairs?" exclaimed
Frank Harrington, in astonishment.
"I think so. You see, Arnold Baxter tried to defraud my father out of some western mining property, and this Buddy Girk was mixed up in the affair—how, I don't exactly know."
"I see. By the way, Tom, have you heard anything of your father yet?"
"Not a word," and Tom's face grew sober. "It does beat all what has become of him, doesn't it?" he added.
"I should think you would want to go and hunt him up."
"We've talked about that already, but Uncle Randolph, who is our guardian, thinks it would prove a wild-goose chase. He says the interior of Africa is a big place to hunt any man in."
"He's right there. But still I would want to hunt for him, even if I had to go into the very jungles to do it."
"We'll go some day—unless father turns up," put in Dick decidedly. "If Uncle Randolph won't go, we'll go alone. But I would like to meet this Buddy Girk," he continued, after a brief pause.
The boys had to walk to the corner of the block to get aboard of a street car, and while waiting there, somewhat in the shadow, Sam pulled Dick by the coat sleeve.
"There he goes!"
"Who?"
"Buddy Girk. See him sneaking along the buildings over there?" and the youngest Rover pointed with his hand.
All saw the figure, and Tom at once proposed that they follow the fellow. Frank was willing, and away they went across the street and also into the gloom.
Buddy Girk was making good time past a number of business buildings which at this hour of the night were locked and barred up and practically deserted.
"I wonder if he saw us start to follow him?" whispered Dick, after several blocks had been passed.
"I don't think so. If he had, it's more than likely that he would have legged it to get away. He—hullo, he's going into that alleyway!"
As Tom spoke he pointed to an opening between two tall office buildings. Reaching the spot they saw, at the foot of the alleyway, a couple of tenement houses. Buddy Girk was ascending the steps of one of the houses, and presently he disappeared within the dark hall.
"He must be stopping here," remarked Sam.
"That is something worth knowing—if we want to put the police on his track."
"I might have him arrested at once," suggested Dick. "He may not be here in the morning."
"Why don't you go and have a talk with him?" came from Frank. "He may get scared and tell you all you want to know about that mining business."
"By jinks, there is something in that!" cried Dick.
"Don't you get into trouble," warned Tom. "He may prove an ugly customer if you corner him."
"Let's all go in," said Sam. "He won't dare to do much with four against him."
The subject was discussed for a few minutes, and they resolved to follow Sam's advice, Dick to lead the way and learn just how the land lay.
Then all walked down the alleyway and toward the tenement, little dreaming of the surprise in store for them.
CHAPTER VII
DICK IS MADE A PRISONER
The hallway of the tenement was pitch-dark, the door standing open for a foot or more. From a rear room came a thin stream of light under a door and a low murmur of voices.
"I guess he went to the rear," whispered Dick. "You wait around the corner till I see."
Noiselessly he entered the hallway and walked to the door of the rear room. Listening, he heard an Irishman and his wife talking over some factory work the man had been promised.
"Girk can't be there," he thought, when he heard an upper door open.
"Hullo, Buddy, back again!" muttered a strangely familiar voice, and then the upper door was closed and locked.
Wondering where he had heard that voice before, Dick came forward again and ascended the rickety stairs. They creaked dismally, and he fully expected to see somebody come out and demand what was going on. But nobody came, and soon the upper hall was gained, and he reached the door which he rightfully guessed had just been opened and closed.
"Yes, everything is all okay," were the first words to reach his ears. "But I had a sweet job to find Mooney. He's cracked on music, it seems, and had gone to a concert instead of attending to business."
"But he won't fail us tomorrow morning?" came in a second voice, and now Dick recognized the speaker as Arnold Baxter, his father's worst enemy, who had been left at the hospital in Ithaca with a broken limb and several smashed ribs. Baxter had tackled Dick while the two were on a moving train, and, while trying to throw the boy off, had gotten the worst of the encounter by tumbling off himself.
"Arnold Baxter! is it possible!" muttered Dick to himself. "He must have a constitution like iron to get around so soon."
"No, Mooney won't fail us," said Buddy Girk. "I gave him a mighty good talkin' to, I did."
"I can't afford to have him go back on us," growled Arnold
Baxter. "I'm not well enough yet to do this job alone."
"How does your chest feel?"
"Oh, the ribs seem to be all right. But my leg isn't. I shouldn't wonder but what I'll have to limp more or less for the rest of my life."
"That puts me in mind. Whom do you reckon I clapped eyes on down at the concert hall tonight?"
"I'm sure I don't know. Any of our enemies?"
"Those three Rover boys."
"What!" Arnold Baxter pushed back his chair in amazement. "Can they be—be following me?" he gasped.
"No. I saw 'em by accident. They had been to the concert."
"But they don't belong here. They live on a farm called Valley
Brook, near the village of Dexter's Corners."
"They were with another boy—a well-dressed chap. Maybe they are paying him a visit."
Arnold Baxter shook his head. "I don't like this. If they have got wind of anything…"
"But how could they get wind?" persisted Buddy Girk.
"That would remain to be found out. You must remember, Buddy, that they are down on me because of that row I once had with their father over that gold mine."
"I know it. And, by the way, I never got nothin' out of that deal neither," growled Buddy Girk.
"Didn't I tell you that some papers were missing? I half believe
Anderson Rover took them with him when he set out for Africa."
"Then they are gone for good."
"Not if he comes back, Buddy. That man is like his boys—bound to turn up when you least expect it. That gold mine was—What's that?"
Arnold Baxter stopped short and leaped to his feet. A wrangle in the hallway just outside of the door had interrupted him.
"Vot vos you doin' here, hey?" came in a heavy German voice. "I dink me you vos up to no goot, hey?"
"Let me go!" came from Dick. "I have done no harm."
"I dink you vos von sneak thief alretty! Stand still bis I find owit."
"It's Dutch Jake!" cried Buddy Girk. "He has collared somebody in the hall. I'll see who it is."
He threw open the door and allowed the light of a lamp to fall on
Dick and the burly man who had captured the youth.
"Great smoke! It's one of dem Rover boys!" he cried, dropping into his old-time manner of speech. "Wot are you doin' here?"
"You know dot young feller?" demanded the man who had been mentioned as Dutch Jake.
"Yes, I do, and he's up to no good here," replied Buddy Girk.
"Den maybe I best kick him owit kvick, hey?"
"Yes—no—wait a minute." Girk turned to Arnold Baxter. "Here is that oldest Rover boy spying on us."
"Ha! I told you they were regular rats for that sort of work," fumed Arnold Baxter.
"Don't let him go."
"Why not?"
"He may know too much. Bring him in here till I question him."
"Not much!" burst out Dick. "Help! Help!"
His cries came to a sudden ending as Buddy Girk clapped a large and somewhat dirty hand over his mouth.
"Run him in here, Jake," said the former tramp. "He is a fellow we have an account to settle with."
"Is dot so? Vell, I ton't vont me no troubles," answered the
German doubtfully.
"It's all right—he—he stole some of our money. That's right, in with him," and Dick was run into the room, after which Dutch Jake retired as suddenly as he had appeared. He was an elderly man, of a queer turn of mind, and, all by himself, occupied a garret room of the tenement.
As soon as the door was locked Arnold Baxter faced Dick. "Now will you keep quiet, or shall I knock you over with this?" he demanded, and raised a heavy cane he had grown into the habit of carrying since he had escaped from the hospital, on the very day that the authorities were going to transfer him to the jail at Ithaca.
"Don't you dare to touch me, Arnold Baxter!" cried the boy boldly.
"Will you keep quiet?"
"That depends. What do you want of me?"
"You followed Girk to this place and were spying on us."
"I think I had a right to follow Girk. He is wanted by the authorities, as you know."
"You heard us planning to do something."
"Perhaps I did."
"I know you did."
"All right, then; don't ask me about it."
"You think that you are a smart boy," growled Baxter uneasily.
"Thank you for nothing."
"Don't get impudent."
"That is what old Crabtree used to say."
"The Rovers always were too important for their own good, young man."
"We know how to do the fair thing by others—and that is more than you!"
"Shut up; I'm in no humor to listen to your preaching."
"Then open the door and let me go."
"Not just yet. I want to know how much you overheard of my talk with Buddy Girk."
"I reckon he heard all of it," growled the fool.
"If I was you, Baxter, I wouldn't let him go at all."
"You would keep him a prisoner?"
Buddy Girk nodded.
"But we can't guard him, Buddy."
"We won't want to guard him. Just bind him hands and feet, and stuff a gag in his mouth, and there you are."
"Would you leave him in this room?"
"I don't know." Girk scratched his tangled head of hair. "No, I wouldn't. I'll tell you where to take him."
He finished by whispering into Arnold Baxter's ear. At once the rascal's face brightened, and he nodded. "Just the thing!" he muttered.
"It will serve him right."
"Are you going to let me go?" demanded Dick uneasily, for he saw that the two were plotting to do him injury.
"No," came from both.
Without another word Dick leaped for the door. The key was in the lock, but ere he could turn it Buddy Girk hauled him back. A scuffle followed, which came to a sudden termination when Arnold Baxter raised his heavy cane and struck the boy, on the back of the head. With a million stars dancing before his eyes, poor Dick went down completely dazed.
Girk lost no time in following up the advantage thus gained, and by the time Dick felt like rising he found his hands bound behind him and a gag of knotted cloth stuffed into his mouth. Then his feet were fastened together, and he was rolled up in an old blanket much the worse for wear and the want of washing.
"Now, come on, before anybody else spots us!" exclaimed Baxter. "If you can lift him alone I'll bring the light. I'm no good on the carry yet."
"All right, light the way," answered Buddy Girk, and took up the form of the boy.
Taking up the smoky lamp, Arnold Baxter led the way out of a rear door to a side hallway. Here two flights of stairs led to a low and ill ventilated cellar. The underground apartment had never been used for anything but old rubbish, and this was piled high on all sides.
"Here we are," said Baxter, as he paused in front of what had once been a stone coal bin. "Dump him in there and shut the door on him. I don't believe he'll get out in any hurry."
Dick's form was dropped on a heap of dirty newspapers and straw. Then Girk and Baxter left the bin. There was a heavy door to the place, and this they closed and shoved the rusty bolt into the socket. In a second more they were on their way upstairs again, and Dick was left to his fate.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SEARCH FOR DICK
"Dick is taking his time, that's certain."
The remark came from Sam, after the boys who had been left in the alleyway had waited the best part of half an hour for the elder Rover's reappearance.
"Perhaps he has found something of interest," suggested Frank.
"And perhaps he has fallen into a trap," put In Tom. "I've a good mind to hunt him up."
"If you go I'll go with you," said Sam.
"I don't want to be left out here alone," said Frank. "Let us wait a little longer."
The best part of an hour passed, but of course nothing was seen or heard of Dick.
"I shan't wait any longer," began Tom, when they saw the front door of the tenement opened and two men hurried forth. Both had their hats pulled far down over their eyes and had their coat collars turned up, even though the night was warm.
"Out of sight!" cried Sam in a low voice, and they dropped down behind the stoop of the second tenement.
"One of those men was Buddy Girk!" ejaculated Tom, when the pair had passed up the alleyway.
"And don't you know who the other was?" demanded Sam. "It was
Dan Baxter's father!"
"Impossible, Sam. Arnold Baxter is in the hospital, and—"
"It was Dan Baxter's father, as true as I'm born, Tom. No wonder he walked with a cane! Am I not right, Frank?"
"I don't know, I'm sure I don't remember Dan's father. But that was Buddy Girk, beyond a doubt."
All of the boys were considerably excited and wondered if it would be best to follow up the vanishing pair.
"I'd do it if I was certain Dick was safe!" cried Tom. "I'm going to hunt for him," he added, and before the others could stop him he entered the tenement. He stumbled around the lower hallway for several minutes and then called out softly:
"Dick! Dick! Where are you?"
No answer came back, and he continued his search. Then, lighting a match, he mounted the rickety stairs and called out again.
"Phat are ye a-raisin' such a row about?" demanded an Irish voice suddenly, and a front room door was thrown open. "Can't ye let a dasent family slape?"
"I'm looking for my brother," replied Tom. "Sorry to disturb you. Have you seen anything of him?"
"Sure an' I don't know yer brother from the side av sole leather, b'y. Go 'long an' let me an' me family slape," replied the Irishman.
"I've got to find my brother, sir. I'm afraid he has met with foul play. He came to see the men who just went out."
"Oh, is that so now? Foul play, is it? I thought them newcomers was up to no good. I heard 'em carryin' on in their room a while ago."
"Which room is it, please?"
"There ye are—the wan on the lift. Is the dure open?"
Tom tried the door. "No, it's locked—the two men just went out." He raised his voice. "Dick! Where are you? Dick!"
"If yez call like that yez will have the wholt tiniment aroused," said the Irishman. "An' it's' a bad crowd on the nixt flure, I kin tell ye that."
"I can't help it—I am bound to find my brother," replied Tom desperately.
Disappearing for a moment, the Irishman came out half dressed and with a lighted candle in his hand. By this time Sam and Frank had followed Tom to the upper floor. Soon several men and women put in an appearance, including Dutch Jake.
"Who vos dot poy you vos look for?" asked the aged German. "Vos he der von vot was standin' by dis door apout an hour ago?"
"I guess so," said Tom.
"Dem mans vot got dis room open der door und took him inside."
"Took him inside!" burst out Sam and Tom simultaneously.
"Yah," replied Dutch Jake, but failed to add that he had had anything to do with the capture.
"Von of dem say dot poy vos stole some money alretty."
"It was a cock-and-bull story to make him a prisoner," said Tom. "I'm going to find him if I can," and he threw himself on the door with all of his strength.
At first the barrier refused to budge, but when Sam and Frank also pushed, it gave way with a bang, hurling the trio to the floor inside.
By this time the excitement had been communicated to the next tenement in which lived Caleb Yates, the landlord of the two buildings. Yates, a sour-minded old man, lost no time dressing and coming over, armed with a nightstick.
"What does this disturbance mean?" he demanded in a high-pitched voice. "Who broke this door in?"
"We did," replied Tom boldly. "We want to find my brother," and he related how Dick had disappeared.
"I know nothing of your trouble with my tenants," said Caleb
Yates. "But I won't have my property destroyed."
"I'm going to find my brother if I have to turn the house upside down."
"And I am going to find him, too," put in Sam.
"Do you know that the men who have this room are thieves, and that one of them broke jail at Rootville?"
"I don't believe your yarn, boy—they looked like very respectable gentlemen, both of them. You had better go about your business—after you have paid me for breaking down the door. You shan't ransack their property."
"If you stop us, I'll call in the police and have you arrested," came promptly from Tom.
This threat nearly took away Caleb Yates' breath. "Arrested!" he gasped.
"Yes, arrested. My brother came in here, and is missing. Those two men are our enemies. If you want to keep out of trouble you will help us to hunt up my brother."
"That is just what you had better do, sir," added Frank.
"And who are you?" demanded the irate landlord.
"I am Frank Harrington, son of Senator Harrington."
At this unexpected announcement the jaw of the landlord dropped perceptibly. "Why—er—I didn't know you were Senator Harrington's son," he stammered.
"I think if you wish to keep out of trouble you had best aid us all you can. The young man we are after came in here a short while ago and has utterly disappeared. I am afraid he has met with foul play."
"But Mr. Arson and Mr. Noble are gone."
"Is that the names they were known under?"
"Yes."
"Their right names are Girk and Baxter. They left the building just before we came up."
"What was your brother doing here?" asked Caleb Yates in a calmer tone.
"He was not my brother, but my warmest friend. He was tracking the short man, the fellow whose name is Girk. Girk once robbed him of his watch."
"I see. And you are sure of your men? If you are, search away, for I want no shady characters in these houses."
The search began immediately, several of the inmates of the tenements taking part. Everything in the room Girk and Baxter had occupied was turned topsy-turvy, but no trace of Dick was brought to light until Tom looked under the table.
"Here's his pocket-knife!" he cried, and held the article up.
"This proves that he came in here beyond a doubt."
"Yes; but where is he now?" put in Sam.
"They couldn't have spirited him away."
"He can't be far off," said Frank.
Again was the search renewed. The men had had one large room and one small apartment, where were located a dilapidated bed and a small writing table. On the table lay some writing material and several scraps of paper, but they were of no value.
The search through the rooms and hallways of the tenement lasted fully an hour. By this time the tenants who had gathered began to grow sleepy again, and one after another went back to their apartments.
"I don't think you are going to find anything," remarked Caleb Yates. "To my way of thinking, that boy must have followed the two men when they left."
"He couldn't do that without our seeing him," said Sam.
"And why not? Here's a back door, remember, and it's pretty dark outside."
"That may be so," returned Tom, shaking his curly head in perplexity. "It's too bad we didn't follow Girk and Baxter up—at least as far as the street."
"Perhaps Dick is at our house waiting for us to come back," put in Frank. "Let us go home and see. We can come back early in the morning." He looked at his watch. "Do you know that it is after two o'clock? I'm afraid my father will worry about me."
They talked the matter over and decided to return to Frank's home without further delay.
It was a silent trio that walked the streets, which were now practically deserted. Tom and Sam were much worried and Frank hardly less so, for the senator's son and Dick had been warm friends for years.
When they reached the mansion they found Senator Harrington pacing the library nervously.
"Well, here you are at last!" he cried. "I was wondering what had become of you."
He listened to their tale with close attention.
"No, Dick has not come in," he said, "at least, I think not.
Run up to the bedrooms, Frank, and see."
Frank did as requested, and soon returned.
"No, he isn't about," he said disappointedly,
"It's mighty queer what became of him."
CHAPTER IX
A LOSS OF IMPORTANCE
Half stunned Dick lay for a long time on the newspapers and musty straw in the disused coal bin of the tenement cellar.
"This is what I call tough luck," he muttered to himself, and tried to force the somewhat loose gag from his mouth. But it would not come.
As soon as he felt strong enough he began to work on the rope which bound his hands together. But the rascals who had placed him in the cellar had done their work well, and the cord refused to budge.
With difficulty he managed to stand erect. The bin was not only pitch-dark, but full of cobwebs and the latter brushed over his face whenever he moved. Then a spider crawled on his neck, greatly adding to his discomfort.
Hour after hour went by, and poor Dick was wondering what the end of the adventure would be when he heard a footstep overhead and then came the indistinct murmur of voice.
"Somebody is in the room overhead," he thought, and tried to make himself heard. But before he could do this the footsteps moved off and he heard the slamming of a door. Then all became as quiet as before.
An hour more went by, and the youth began to grow desperate. He was thirsty and his mouth and nose were filled with dust and dirt, rendering him far from comfortable.
In moving around his foot came in contact with an empty tomato can and this gave him an idea. He knelt down, and with the can between his heels, tried to saw apart the rope which bound his hands behind him.
The position was an awkward one and the job long and tiring, but at last the rope gave way and he found his hands free. He lost no further time in ridding himself of the gag and the rope which bound his feet.
He was now free so far as his bodily movements went, but he soon discovered that the coal bin was without any opening but a long, narrow chute covered with an iron plate, and that the heavy door was securely bolted. With all force he threw himself against the door, but it refused to budge.
Presently he remembered that he had several loose matches in his vest pocket, and, taking out one of these, he lit it and then set fire to a thick shaving that was handy and which, being damp, burnt slowly.
"Hullo, here's something of a trap-door!" he exclaimed, as he gazed at the flooring above head. "I wonder if I can get out that way?"
He dropped the lighted shaving in a safe spot and put up his hands. The cut-out spot in the flooring went up with ease and Dick saw a fairly well furnished room beyond. Through one of the windows of the room he saw that daybreak was at hand.
"Great Caesar! I've been down here all night!" he ejaculated, and, putting out the light, leaped up and drew himself through the opening. Once in the room he put the trap down again and rearranged the rag carpet he had shoved out of place.
The door to the room was locked, so the boy hurried to the window. Throwing open the blinds, he was about to leap out into the tenement alley when a woman suddenly confronted him. She was tall and heavy and had a red, disagreeable face.
"What are you doing in my rooms, young fellow?" she demanded.
"I'm trying to get out of this house!"
"What are you—a thief?"
"No. I was locked up in the cellar by a couple of bad men and got out by coming through a trap-door in your floor."
"A likely story!" sneered the woman, who had been away during the night and had heard nothing of the search for Dick. "You look like a sneak-thief. Anyway, you haven't any right in my rooms."
She came closer, and, as Dick leaped to the ground, clutched him by the arm.
"Let me go, madam."
"I won't. I'm going to hand you over to the police."
"I don't think you will!" retorted Dick, and with a twist he wrenched himself loose and started off on a run. The woman attempted to follow him, but soon gave up the chase.
Dick did not stop running until he was several blocks away. Then he dropped into a walk and looked about to see, if his brothers or Frank were anywhere in sight.
"I suppose they couldn't make it out and went home," he mused.
"I had, better get to Frank's house without delay."
Dick was still a block away from Senator Harrington's residence when he espied Tom, Sam, and Frank coming toward him.
"My gracious, where have you been?" burst out Tom, as he rushed forward. "You look as if you'd been rolling around a dirty cellar."
"And that is just about what I have been doing," answered Dick with a sickly laugh. "Do you know anything of Buddy Girk?" he added quickly.
"He ran away from the tenement, and Arnold Baxter was with him," replied Sam.
"Did you follow them?"
"No; we tried to find out what had become of you."
Each had to tell his story, and then Dick was led into the house. He lost no time in brushing up and washing himself, and by that time breakfast was ready in the dining room.
"It's a curious adventure, truly," said Senator Harrington, as he sat down with the boys. "I am glad you got out of it so well. The next time you see anything of those rascals you had better lose no time in informing the police."
The senator was one of that class of busy men who eat breakfast and read their morning newspaper at the same time. Having listened to what Dick had to say, he unfolded his paper and propped it up against a fruit dish before him.
"Excuse me, but I am in a hurry," he remarked apologetically. "I want to catch a train for New York at eight-thirty-five, and—hullo, what's this! Rush & Wilder, Brokers and Bankers, Robbed! Thieves enter the office and loot the safe! This is news certainly."
"Rush & Wilder!" cried Frank. "Is that the firm you do business with?"
"Yes, Frank. They have lost over sixty-five thousand dollars, besides a lot of unregistered bonds. That's a big loss."
"Will you suffer?"
"I don't know but what I shall. I'll have to let that trip to New York go and look into this." And Senator Harrington settled back to read the account of the robbery in full.
"They haven't any trace of the thieves, have they?" asked Tom.
"No. It says a rear window was broken open and the iron bars unscrewed. The safe door was found closed but unlocked."
"Then the thieves had the combination," put in Sam.
"More than likely."
"I wonder if Baxter and Girk committed that crime?" came from Dick. "I think they would be equal to it. They were up to some game."
"It might be," returned Senator Harrington, with interest. "But how would those men obtain the combination of Rush & Wilder's safe?"
"I'm sure I don't know, but—yes, they mentioned a man named Mooney who was to assist them. Perhaps he is known around the bankers' offices."
"We can soon find out. What were you boys going to do this morning?"
"I was going back to the tenements to see if I couldn't have
Baxter and Girk arrested," said Dick.
"If they learn you have escaped, they will probably clear out."
"I suppose that's so. But I might go down and see."
"Yes, I'd do that. Later on you can come over to Rush & Wilder's offices."
This was agreed to, and as soon as breakfast was over Dick and the other boys hurried off to where Yates' tenements were located.
Caleb Yates was on hand, and all visited the apartment Baxter and Buddy Girk had occupied. It was found that the men had not returned, and it did not look as if they intended to come back.
"They have skipped for good, take my word on it," muttered Tom, and the others agreed with him.
Thinking it would be useless to remain around the alleyway any longer, the four boys left the vicinity, and, boarding a street car, made their way to the thoroughfare upon which were located the offices of the bankers and brokers who had been robbed.
A crowd was collected about the place and two policemen were keeping those outside in check.
"I want my money!" one old man was shouting. "This is a game of Charley Rush to do us out of our cash. I don't believe the office was robbed at all."
"You keep quiet, or I'll run you in," replied, one of the policemen, and the old man lost no time in slinking out of sight.
"Can we go in?" asked Frank, and told who he was.
"I'll send in word and see," answered the policeman at the door.
"Oh, Frank!" came from the main office, and Senator Harrington beckoned to his son; and all four of the boys went in.
They found half a dozen men present, including the members of the firm, a detective, and the bookkeeper, a young man named Fredericks.
"You are the only one who had the combination besides ourselves, Fredericks," Charles Rush was saying to the bookkeeper. "I hate to suspect you, but—"
"Mr. Rush, you can't think I took that money and those securities!" gasped the bookkeeper, and fell back as if about to faint.
"I don't know what to think."
"I can give you my word I was not near the offices from four o'clock yesterday afternoon until I came this morning, after you."
"Have you spoken of the safe combination to anybody?"
"No, sir."
"Did you put the combination down in writing?" asked Mr. Wilder.
"No, I never did anything of that sort. The combination was an unusually easy one, as you know."
"Yes, far too easy for our good," groaned Mr. Rush. Then he gazed at the four boys curiously.
"What brought you here?" he asked.
"We thought we might know something of this affair," said Dick, and told his story.
"There may be something in that," said the detective.
"Especially if those men fail to turn up at that tenement again."
"Did you mention a man named Mooney?" cried Fredericks.
"I did."
"Do you know this Mooney?" put in Mr. Wilder to the bookkeeper.
"Subrug, the janitor, has a brother-in-law named Mooney—a wild kind of a chap who used to hang around more or less."
"We'll call Subrug in and find out where this Mooney is now," said Charles Rush.
The janitor proved to be a very nervous old man. "I don't know where Mooney is," he said. "He's been a constant worry to me. He used to borrow money, but lately I wouldn't give him any more, and so he stopped coming around."
"Was he ever in here?"
The janitor thought for a moment. "I think he was, sir—about a month ago. He started to help me clean the windows, but he was too clumsy and I made him give it up."
"I remember him!" cried the bookkeeper. "He was at the window, Mr. Rush, while you were at the safe. He must have watched you work the combination."
CHAPTER X
TOM, SAM, AND FARMER FOX
For an instant there was a dead silence in the bankers' offices.
Charles Rush looked blankly at his bookkeeper.
"I believe Fredericks is right," said Mr. Wilder, the first to break the awkward pause. "I remember the fellow very well. I thought at the time that he was watching Mr. Rush rather closely."
"You had no business to bring in a man that was not to be trusted," growled Charles Rush, turning to the janitor.
"Do you think he stole the stuff?" ejaculated Subrug. "Sure
Mooney wasn't smart enough for such a game."
"Perhaps not, but he got others to help him," said Dick. "He got
Buddy Girk and Arnold Baxter, I feel positive of it."
"The whole thing fits together pretty well," said the detective. "If only we, can lay hands on these men the boy mentions, we'll be all right."
A long conversation followed, and then Dick and the others went to the police station.
The rooms at Yates' tenement were thoroughly searched once more, and a watch was set for Girk and Arnold Baxter.
But the rascals had flown and the watch proved useless.
In the meantime two detectives tried to trace what had become of Mooney, but this work also amounted to nothing, and it may be as well to add here that Mooney was never heard of again, having sailed for South America.
Upon an accounting it was learned that Rush & Wilder were by no means in a good financial condition and that Senator Harrington would lose a good sum of money should they fail.
"I'd give a thousand dollars to collar those thieves," said the senator dismally.
"If Arnold Baxter and Girk got that money they'll live in high clover for a while," remarked Dick, when the excitement was over and they had returned to Frank's home. "My! what a villain that Baxter is proving to be! No wonder Dan was bad! It must run in the blood."
The robbery kept the boys in Albany several days, and this being so, it was decided to abandon the trip on the river to New York.
"I'll send the Spray down by somebody," said Dick, "and then we can take a train from here direct to Oak Run," and so it was arranged.
The trip to Oak Run proved to be uneventful. And at the railroad station they were met by Jack Ness, the Rovers' hired man, who had driven over with the carryall to take them home.
"Glad to see you all looking so well," grinned the hired man.
"Getting fat as butter, Master Tom."
"Thanks, Jack, I'm feeling fine. Any news?"
"No, sir, none exceptin' that your uncle has had a row with Joel
Fox, who has the farm next to ours."
"What was the row about?" questioned Dick.
"All about some fruit, sir. We had a tree hangin' over Fox's fence—finest pear tree on the place, that was. Fox strips the tree at night, sir—saw him with my own eyes."
"Oh, what cheek!" burst out Sam. "What did uncle do?"
"Tried to talk to him, and Fox told him to mind his own business, that he could have what fruit hung over his fence. So he could, but not half of it hung that way, and he took every blessed pear."
"Fox always was a mean man," murmured Tom. "I'd like to square accounts with him before I go back to Putnam Hall."
"I reckoned as how you might be up to something like that," said Ness, with another grin. "But you want to be careful. Only yesterday Fox shot off his gun at some boys who were after his apples."
"Did he hit the boys?"
"I don't think he did."
"Who were they?"
"I don't know. And I reckon he don't either."
"Humph!" Tom mused for a moment.
"I'd like to scare the mean fellow by making him think one of the boys was killed."
"That's an idea!" cried Sam, and winked at his brother. "Let's do it!"
They were soon bowling over Swift River and along the road leading to Valley Brook farm. At the farmhouse their Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha stood in the dooryard to greet them.
"Back again, safe and sound!" cried Randolph Rover. "I suppose you feel like regular sailors."
"Well, we do feel a little that way," laughed Sam, and returned the warm kiss his aunt bestowed upon him. "It's nice to be home once more."
"Would you rather stay here than go back to Putnam Hall?" asked his aunt quickly.
"Oh, no, I can't say that, Aunt Martha. But it's awfully nice here, nevertheless."
A hot supper was awaiting them, and while they ate they told of all that had happened since they had been away. Randolph Rover shuddered over the way Dick had been treated.
"Be careful, my boy," he said. "Remember, even your father could not bring this Arnold Baxter to justice. He is evidently a thorough-paced scoundrel, and his companion is probably just as bad."
"And how goes the scientific farming, Uncle Randolph?" asked Tom, who knew how to touch his uncle in the right spot.
"Splendidly, my boy, splendidly! I am now working on a new rotation of crops. It will, I am certain, prove a revelation to the entire agricultural world."
"Did you make much money this season?" asked Sam dryly.
"Well—er—no; in fact, we ran a little behind. But we will do finely next year—I am certain of it. I will have some strawberries and celery which shall astonish our State agricultural committee," answered Randolph Rover. He was always enthusiastic, in spite of almost constant failure. Thus far his hobby had netted him a loss of several thousand dollars.
It was Friday, and Saturday was to be given over to packing up for school. Yet on Saturday morning Tom managed to call Sam aside.
"We'll go over to Fox's," said he. "Are you ready?"
"I am, Tom," answered the younger brother. "And be sure and pile it on."
"Trust me for that," and Tom winked in a fashion that set Sam to roaring.
They found Joel Fox at work along the roadside, mending a part of a stone wall which had tumbled down. Fox was a Yankee, and miserly and sour to the very core.
"Well, what do you want?" he demanded, as the boys came to a halt in front of him.
"Why, Mr. Fox, I thought you had skipped out!" cried Tom in pretended surprise.
"Skipped out?"
"Yes."
"Why should I skip out, boy?"
"On account of Harry Smith."
"Harry Smith? Who is he?"
"Harry Smith of Oak Run—the boy who was shot the other day.
Didn't you hear he was dead?"
At these words Joel Fox dropped the tools he was using and turned pale.
"Is—er—is the boy—er—" He could not finish.
"It was a wicked thing to do," put in Sam. "Any man that would shoot a boy ought to be lynched."
"Perhaps that crowd of men were coming up here," went on Tom.
"Didn't they have a rope with them?"
"To be sure they had a rope, Tom. And one of 'em said something about hanging."
"What crowd are you talking about?" stammered Joel Fox, growing paler and paler.
"The crowd at the depot. Did you shoot him, Mr. Fox? I can't hardly believe it true, although I know you were mean enough to take my uncle's pears."
"I—er—the pears were on my property. I er—I didn't shoot at any boy. I—er—I shot at some crows in my cornfield," stammered Joel Fox. "Did you say a crowd of men were coming over here with a rope?"
"You'll see fast enough, you bad man!" cried Tom, and ran off, followed by Sam. In vain Fox tried to call them back.
The boys went as far as a turn in the road, then hid behind some bushes. Soon they saw Fox pick up his tools and make for his barn. Then he came out and hurried for his house.
"I guess he's pretty well rattled," laughed Tom. "Won't he be mad when he learns how he has been fooled!"
They waited for a while, but as Fox did not reappear they hurried back home by another road, that the man might not see them.
Tom was right when he said that the miserly old farmer was "rattled," as it is commonly called.
All day long the coward remained in the house, as nervous as a cat and afraid that a crowd of men would appear at any minute to lynch him.
His wife did not know what to make of such actions and finally demanded an explanation, and when it was not forthcoming threatened him with the broom, which she had used as a weapon of offense several times previously.
"They say he's dead!" finally burst out Joel. "They are goin' ter lynch me for it. Hide me, Mandy, hide me!"
"Who is dead, Joel Fox?"
"The boy I shot at fer stealin' them apples. Oh, they'll lynch me; I feel it in my bones!" groaned the old man.
"Who was it?"
"Harry Smith of Oak Run."
"And he is dead?"
"So they say. But I didn't calkerlate I hit him at all," whined
Joel.
"No more you did, for I saw him run away, and he went clear out o' sight up the road. Who told you this?" demanded Mrs. Fox.
"Those Rover boys, Tom an' Sam."
"Those young imps! Joel, they are fooling you."
"Do you really think so, Mandy?" asked the man hopefully.
"I do. If I was you I'd go over to Oak Run and find out."
"No, no—if it's true they'll lynch me, I know they will!"
"Then I'll go over. I know Mrs. Smith. If he's dead there will be crape on the door an' I won't go in," concluded Mrs. Fox.
And getting out a horse and buckboard, she drove over to Oak Run and to the Smiths' place. She found no crape on the door. Harry Smith sat on the porch, his arm in a sling. Plucking up courage she drew rein, dismounted, and walked up to the boy, who was one of the Rover brothers friends.
"How is your arm, Harry?" she began softly.
"It's pretty fair," answered the boy politely. "Won't you come in, Mrs. Fox?"
"Well, I guess not. Harry, I'm sorry for this."
"So am I sorry, Mrs. Fox."
"I didn't think you would do it. Why didn't you come up to the house an' ask for them apples?"
The boy looked puzzled, for the simple reason that he was puzzled. "I don't understand you. What apples?"
"The ones you tried to steal."
"I didn't try to steal any apples, Mrs. Fox. What makes you think that?"
"Didn't you try to git in our orchard when Joel fired on you?" cried Mrs. Fox.
"Why, I haven't been anywhere near your orchard!"
"So?" Mrs. Fox looked bewildered. "Then—then how did you get hurt?" she faltered.
"Why, Mr. Wicks and I were cleaning out pa's old shotgun when it went off accidentally, and I got a couple of the shot in my forearm," answered Harry Smith promptly.
The answer took away Mrs. Fox's breath.
"Drat them boys—I knowed it!" she muttered, and drove away without another word. Harry Smith was much puzzled, but letters which soon after passed between him and Tom cleared up the mystery.
But the boys never heard of how Joel Fox fared when his wife got home. The lady arrived "as mad as a hornet," to use a popular saying. "You're the worst old fool ever was, Joel Fox!" were her first words, and a bitter quarrel followed that ended only when the man was driven out of the house with the ever-trustworthy broom. Joel Fox wanted to go over to the Rover farm, to have it out with Tom and Sam, but somehow he could not pluck up the courage to make the move.