Probably there was no more disgusted person at the races that day than Noddy Nixon. He was mad at himself, at Jack, and more than angry at Bob, Ned and Jerry. He felt very bitter in his heart toward them, though it was all his own fault. Another matter that troubled him was the money he had lost on bets.
“I’m in a deep hole,” he muttered as he left the athletic grounds, “and how to get out I don’t know.”
For few of the tips that Jack had given proved good ones, and Noddy had lost in all about two hundred dollars. This was more money than he had possessed in some time, though an indulgent father kept him well supplied.
“Where’s my father?” asked Noddy in surly tones as the maid answered his ring at the handsome house on the hill where the Nixon family lived.
“In his study, Mr. Noddy,” answered the girl.
“Now to beard the lion in his den,” whispered the young man to himself.
In answer to Noddy’s knock—rather a timid, hesitating sort of a knock, and not in keeping with the bully’s usual bluster—Mr. Nixon bade his son enter.
“How are you, Noddy?” asked Mr. Nixon, who was fond of the young man, in spite of his bad manners at times.
“Pretty fair,” was the answer.
“Did you go to the races? Of course you must have, to judge by your costume.”
“Yes, I went,” replied Noddy. “I rode in one, just as a sort of practice. I didn’t try to win. I only wanted to get in form. But say, father,” he went on rapidly, “I need some money.”
“Money!” exclaimed Mr. Nixon, laying aside the book he had been reading, and looking over the tops of his spectacles. “Money? Why do you know how much you have had in the last month?”
“Not so much,” replied Noddy.
For answer Mr. Nixon rapidly turned over the pages of a memorandum book. When he came to a certain page he stopped and began adding up some figures.
“The total, since the middle of last month, when I began keeping the account, to the present time, which is just about four weeks of time, is three hundred and seventy-five dollars,” said Mr. Nixon.
“I had no idea it was so much,” muttered Noddy.
“And now you want more?”
“I must have about two hundred dollars, father.”
“Two hundred dollars! Great Scott, young man! do you think money grows on trees? What do you want with two hundred dollars? Are you going to start in business?”
“I need it to pay a few debts with,” murmured Noddy.
“I’m sorry,” said Mr. Nixon, closing the book, “but I can’t let you have any more money now.”
“But father, I simply must have it.”
“You’ll not get it from me, young man. I’m tired of handing you over money to waste on foolishness.”
“Well, I’m going to have that money,” retorted Noddy, speaking in an excited tone.
“Look here, young man,” answered his father, “don’t let me hear you speak to me again like that. Remember you are not of age, and until you are you are under my control. Remember also that you are not too big to be whipped. I am inclined to think that would be a good thing for you.”
“I’d like to see any one try it,” retorted Noddy impudently.
“Leave the room! Leave the room, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Nixon, rising to his feet, his face white with anger. “I do not want to lose my temper, and act hastily. Leave the room at once,” and he pointed to the door.
Noddy, with a sullen and hateful glance at his parent, passed through the portal. He slammed the door behind him, giving vent to the anger that raged within him. After the young man was gone Mr. Nixon sank down in a chair. He was trembling, and tears stood in his eyes.
“To think that my oldest son should be so thoughtless of the respect due me,” he sighed. “I wish he was better. Perhaps if he had had to work as hard as I did to make my fortune he would not be so wasteful. But I simply can not let him spend any more money at present. It is for his own good, but he can’t seem to see it. Ah me! I wish he was a better son.”
Noddy went to his room, put on another suit after doffing his bicycle clothes, and then ordered one of the maids to get him something to eat. After a hasty meal he left the house.
“I wonder if I couldn’t borrow some money from Tom Judson,” mused Noddy, as he reached the centre of the town, and proceeded along the streets filled with people coming home from work. “He must be at the mill office yet. I’ll try, any how.”
Tom, the son of Amos Judson, who owned a large iron mill in Cresville, was a young man whose acquaintance Noddy had made some time before. Ordinarily Tom was well supplied with money.
Noddy found Tom in the mill office. It was about closing time.
“Hello, Tom!” greeted Noddy.
“Hello, yourself!” responded Tom, genially.
“Tom,” went on Noddy rapidly, seeing there was no one within hearing, “can you lend me three hundred dollars? I need it to pay a bill with in a hurry, and I haven’t time to go home. The governor would let me have it for the asking. I’ll pay you back in a couple of days.”
For answer Tom slowly turned one pocket after another inside out.
“Dead broke!” he laughed. “Just paid my board bill and I can’t get any cash until Saturday night. Sorry.”
“So am I,” joined in Noddy.
“If you want to crack the safe there,” went on Tom, pointing to an old-fashioned one that stood in a corner, “you could get three hundred dollars, and more. I saw dad put one thousand dollars in bills in there a while ago. Some people paid their debts late this afternoon, and he didn’t want to go to the bank so near closing time. But I guess you don’t want to crack a safe, do you, Noddy?”
“No,” replied Noddy, with an uneasy laugh, as he left the mill office.
“Good night,” called Tom, as he proceeded to put his books away. Then, seeing that the safe was closed, and locking the office door, he went home.
“Everything fails me,” muttered Noddy. “But I simply must raise the cash—somehow. I wonder—”
But he hardly dared whisper even to himself the thought that came into his mind.
Following the last of the races at the athletic grounds it was announced that the Cresville Club would tender, that night, a reception to all participants and their friends. There was to be a little entertainment and refreshments would be served. The prizes would also be awarded.
Bob and his sister Susie were going, Ned would be there and Jerry Hopkins had promised to take Julia. Besides it was expected that a number of boys and girls, friends of the three chums, would be present.
When Bob, Ned and Jerry, with the two girls, reached the club house that evening, they found a big crowd already there.
“Oh, there’s Alice Vines and Helen Gale!” exclaimed Susie, leaving her brother and running over to where the girls stood.
“Yes, and there’s Mollie Horton!” exclaimed Julia. “I’m real glad she came,” and Julia ran from her brother and joined Mollie.
“Well, it looks as if we’d have to paddle our own canoes,” remarked Jerry, with a laugh. “Deserted the first thing, after the glorious victories we won, too.”
“Let’s pretend we don’t want to talk to them,” suggested Ned. “That’s the surest way to bring the girls around,” which holds true of old as well as young girls, it may be said.
“Come down stairs and I’ll treat you all to ice-cream,” invited Jerry.
The boys were hurrying away, not looking in the direction of the girls, when there was a flurry of skirts and a miniature cyclone descended about the lads.
“What’s that I heard about ice-cream?” asked Julia, with a laugh, as she ran up and grasped her brother by the arm.
“Did you hear anything?” asked Jerry, in an innocent tone.
“Yes, and I happen to have some sort of a vague recollection about a promise of ice-cream sodas made by some one this afternoon,” went on the girl, laughing. “Do you boys recall anything about that?”
“I guess the joke is on us, boys,” said Bob. “Come along, girls, you shall have the ice-cream.”
It was a jolly little party that gathered about the ice-cream tables. They had almost finished one plate each, when a boy with light hair, that never seemed to be combed, and blue eyes that twinkled like two stars and a mouth that always seemed to be open, either while he was talking or laughing, came up.
“Hello girls! Hello fellows!” he exclaimed rapidly, and talking by jerks. “Fine night—big crowd—lots of people—have some more cream?”
“Easy, easy,” pleaded Jerry. “You talk like a house afire, Andy Rush.”
“Rush by name—Rush by nature,” spluttered Andy. “Come, what is it? Ice-cream—candy cake—lemonade—pick the winner!”
“Well, I guess the girls wouldn’t object to some more cream,” spoke Bob. “As for me, ice-cream sort of palls after one big plate. I’ll have some lemonade.”
Andy joined the little party, and added to the fun. He never seemed to stop talking, and he didn’t seem to care whether any one listened.
“Prizes going to be given out,” cried Andy, presently, hurrying up stairs.
This was a signal for a general breaking up of the little party. As each of the three chums came in for a prize they had to be near the platform, where Mr. Wakefield, the athletic instructor of the club, gave out the trophies.
There was quite a jam of people in the main room of the club, where seats had been placed to accommodate the assemblage. The boys found it rather difficult to get near the platform, but finally succeeded.
Bob’s name was the first called. He blushed as he went forward to receive a fine diamond scarf pin that was the first prize in the amateur race class.
After several other trophies had been given out came the turn of Jerry to go forward and get the first prize for the three mile race. It was announced that the winner of this could have his choice of any article to the value of three hundred dollars. The money could not be given, as that would put the winner in the professional class, Mr. Wakefield said.
“We thought of giving a three hundred dollar piano as the first trophy,” said Mr. Wakefield, “but there is no obligation to take that, as it is not purchased. Now, Jerry, what would you like?”
“If it can be bought for that amount of money I’ll have a motor-cycle,” replied Jerry after a moment’s thought.
“That’s the stuff!” called Bob in such a loud whisper that it was heard all over the room, and caused considerable laughter.
“And a motor-cycle you shall have,” said Mr. Wakefield, “the finest that can be bought. I am glad you took that. It gives me a chance to say that in the future the club intends having some motor-cycle races. Perhaps you will compete, Jerry, and if you do I hope you will do your best.”
“Three cheers for Jerry Hopkins!” called some one, and they were given with a will.
“Your prize is not quite as optional as was Jerry’s,” said Mr. Wakefield, when Ned came forward in answer to his name. “Still we hope you will like it. I have picked out this for you,” and he gave the boy a magazine rifle of the most expensive make, a regular beauty, at the sight of which Ned’s eyes sparkled with joy.
“Three cheers for Ned Slade!” shouted a voice at the back of the room, and Ned was cheered until his face grew red with blushes.
It was not long before all the prizes had been given out. Then followed an entertainment.
“Let’s go back and sit with the girls,” suggested Ned. The three chums moved down the centre aisle, and found that the young ladies had anticipated their coming and had saved seats for them.
Mr. Wakefield sought out Jerry and whispered that his motor-cycle would be ordered at once, and would probably arrive in the course of a couple of weeks.
“Isn’t it queer,” said Ned. “Do you remember that day how we were talking about getting motor-cycles?”
“I remember,” replied Jerry. “But I didn’t think I would have one so soon. I wish you and Bob were going to get them now.”
“I’m going to see if I can’t,” said Ned.
“Same here,” came from the heavy-weight youth.
The party, increased by late comers, was more jolly than before, and laughter and jokes made the hours pass so pleasantly that when twelve o’clock boomed out on the chiming time-piece of the club, there was a chorus of cries from the girls.
“Oh! How late it is!” almost screamed Mollie Horton.
“And mother told me to be sure and be home by eleven,” came from Alice. “We must start, girls.”
The majority of boys and girls lived in the same neighborhood. They paired off, as young folks will, when they approach the age of sentiment, and by two marched down the now quiet streets of Cresville, singing snatches of songs. It was a bright moon-light night, and the young people enjoyed every moment of it.
Ned, who had no sister to worry about, had asked permission to take Alice Vines home. She lived some distance from the others, though her route was the same as theirs for a little way. When it came time for Alice and Ned to take another path, they bade their companions good-night, and started off down the street together. Alice lived about half a mile from the parting of the ways, and Ned thought the distance all too short.
“I’ve had a very pleasant time,” said Alice, when she reached her gate. “Thank you very much for bringing me home.”
“The pleasure was all mine, I assure you,” said Ned with a gallant bow, whereat Alice laughed.
Then Ned started home alone. His way lay past the Judson iron mill, a rather lonesome part of the town, but Ned did not care. Once he wished he had brought his new rifle along, instead of leaving it at the club house. Then he laughed to himself at his fears.
After he had passed his father’s store, which was in darkness, he came to a part of the town where there were no street lamps. However the moon gave considerable light.
There were mysterious shadows, too, and once Ned thought one took on the shape of a man sneaking around a corner. He came to a halt, his heart beating wildly.
“Pshaw! It must have been a cloud,” he declared.
A little later he came nearer the iron mill. It was located on the bank of a river, and the rushing of the water sounded rather uncanny in the lonesome night. Once more Ned started as he beheld a shadow glinting along the street ahead of him.
“That’s no moon-shadow,” argued the boy. “That’s the outline of a man, if ever there was one. And it looked for all the world like Bill Berry. Well, I don’t know’s I’m afraid of him, and he certainly isn’t of me.”
He walked on boldly, whistling to keep up his courage, though he would have disputed that point had any one accused him. Then he came in full view of the mill. Through the glass door of the office he caught sight of a light. He gave a sudden start and hurried forward.
“A light in the mill!” exclaimed Ned softly. “There must be something wrong. I never saw one there before. Mr. Judson has no night watchman either, unless he has gotten one in the last few days, which I doubt. I wonder what’s up?”
In spite of the rather disagreeableness of the task Ned resolved to keep watch for a little while and see what developed.
He found a stone where he could sit down in the shadow and observe events. For some time nothing happened. The little light glowed steadily. Then it began to flicker and to move about.
Suddenly, off to the left, Ned heard a sound. It was just as if some one was walking along and trying to avoid making a noise. Only the breaking of a little piece of wood now and then, or the rattle of a pebble, showed that some one was moving.
Ned crouched down behind the stone on which he had been sitting. He peered forward, straining his eyes in the uncertain light to catch the least glimpse of who ever was approaching. He started as he saw a man, bending low so as to conceal as much of himself as possible, steal from the yard of the mill and take up his position on the other side of the street, about fifty feet from where Ned was concealed.
“I’m almost certain that was Bill Berry,” whispered Ned. “I’m positive now that something wrong is afoot. Bill isn’t out on a night like this for any good. I wonder if I ought to run for help?”
For some time Ned kept watchful eyes in the direction Bill, or the man he supposed was him, had gone. He could see him, crouched all in a heap, beside a stone, just as Ned himself was. And the man seemed to be keeping a watch on the mill, exactly as Ned was doing.
“Maybe there are robbers in the mill now,” argued Ned, “and Bill is keeping guard. I’ve a good notion to go and see if I can’t find a policeman.”
Once more Ned heard a movement in the direction of the mysterious watcher. He looked and saw the man straighten up and look cautiously about him. Then he saw him steal across the street, go up to the door of the mill office, and peer in.
“I wish I dared do that,” thought Ned. “Then I’d know whether I’m making a fool of myself, staying out like this when I ought to be in bed.”
For more than a minute Bill Berry, for Ned could see plainly now that the man was the town bad character, stood and gazed into the mill office. Then, apparently satisfied with what he had seen, Bill tip-toed away and passed down the street and out of sight.
“Now it’s my turn,” whispered Ned, and he moved forward.
He looked up. The light was still glowing though faintly. Ned set his foot on the first wooden step. As if it had been a signal agreed upon the light went out suddenly, and the office was in darkness.
“Queer!” exclaimed Ned. “I wonder if whoever is in there could have heard me?”
A moment’s reflection, however, showed him this could not have been the case.
“Maybe they are watching and saw me,” he argued. This made him feel a little strange. To think that in the darkness, there might be evil eyes watching his every movement was not a pleasant thought. He knew that he could be seen from within the mill, though he himself could observe nothing inside.
“Might as well look in, though, now I’m here,” he said to himself.
So he boldly, but softly, went up the five steps, and, placing his hands on either side of his face, to shut out the little light of the moon that, now and then, straggled through the clouds, Ned peered anxiously into the office. As he had feared he could distinguish nothing. It was as black as the proverbial pocket.
Ned walked down the steps. As he did so he thought he heard, from within the mill, a sound, as if a door was slammed. He listened intently.
“I guess I must have fancied it,” he said. “I must be getting nervous. That won’t do. All the same I would like to have seen what Bill Berry did when he looked in while the light was there.”
With this thought in mind Ned moved off. The iron mill took up quite a large space of ground, what would be termed a city block, and there were streets on three sides of it, besides a road along the river, between the stream and the mill. A high fence surrounded all but the front of the mill, though there were gates in it at intervals to admit the workmen and teams. To get to his home Ned had to go to the farthest end of the mill fence, and turn up a street there. He was walking toward the corner, and was close to it, when he heard footsteps approaching.
He hesitated a moment. Then he reflected that he had as much right to be where he was as any one. The footsteps came nearer and nearer. Then, as Ned proceeded he turned the corner, and came face to face with Noddy Nixon!
Just then the moon, which had been hidden by a cloud, came out brightly. By its gleam Ned could distinguish the bully’s features clearly. They bore a look of mingled rage and fear.
“Hello, Noddy,” said Ned, resolving in spite of all that had taken place, to speak friendly. “Fine night, isn’t it?”
“Look here!” burst out Noddy. “Are you spying on me? Can’t I go to the river to get some fish bait without having every young cub in Cresville at my heels?”
“I wasn’t spying on you, as you call it,” said Ned quietly, “and if you think so the less I have to say to you the better off I’ll be.”
“I’ve a mind to knock your head off,” spluttered Noddy. “Just mind your own business or you’ll get into trouble, and it will be a kind you won’t like.”
Ned did not deem the remarks worthy of an answer. He turned and was hurrying past. As he did so he noticed that Noddy held tightly under one arm a small square box. It seemed to be made of wood. Catching Ned’s glance at what he carried, Noddy rapidly shifted the box until it was hidden under his coat. Then, with angry mutterings, he hurried on.
“Rather a queer sort of box to use for his fish bait,” thought Ned. “I wonder what he was up to, any how? And I wonder what that light in the mill meant? I’ve had quite a few adventures to-night. Guess I’d better get home before I meet with any more.”
So he walked rapidly on, and reached his house without further incident. He soon fell asleep, to dream of being shut up in a small square wooden box with a big fish, while Noddy Nixon, on a motor-cycle, was riding off rapidly with the box under his arm.
“Have you heard the news—great excitement—big robbery—everybody talking about it—hurry up!”
It was thus Andy Rush greeted Ned the next morning as he stopped at the latter’s house on the way down town. Andy’s hair was more disarranged than ever, and his blue eyes fairly shone.
“What’s up?” asked Ned, who had come to the door in answer to Andy’s whistle, having been met with the flow of words that startled him.
“Last night—midnight, I guess—Judson’s mill—thousand dollars—great excitement—safe blown open—money taken—detectives notified—I’m off to see the fun—hurry up!”
“Hold on!” called Ned. “I saw—I know—” and then he stopped. The memory of what he had seen in the night; the light in the mill, the actions of Bill Berry, and his meeting with Noddy Nixon, who carried a square box; all this came to Ned in an instant. He was about to tell Andy, but on second thought decided that he had better keep his own counsel, at least, for a while.
“Coming along?—no time to lose!” cried Andy.
“I’ll be down after I have breakfast,” replied Ned, waving a farewell to Andy, and returning to the house sorely puzzled.
He ate his breakfast rapidly. He hardly knew what to do in reference to what he had witnessed during his watch at the mill. After some thought he decided to wait a little while, learn more particulars of the robbery, and then relate everything to his father.
In a little while Mr. Slade left the house and Ned soon followed. When the lad reached the centre of the town it needed no one to tell him that there was considerable excitement. In a small place like Cresville news spreads quickly even without a daily paper.
Ned soon found his chums, Bob and Jerry.
“Have you heard about it?” demanded Ned.
“Yes, Andy Rush told me,” said Jerry.
“And he told me, too,” put in Bob. “That fellow is as swift as his name.”
“Did you hear any particulars?” demanded Ned.
“It was an old-fashioned safe, according to what the policeman told me,” said Jerry, “and the burglars had little trouble in getting it open.”
“Did they blow it apart?”
“No, simply took a chisel and hammer and cut the lock out. The door was only soft iron.”
By this time the three boys were near the mill. There was quite a crowd about, and several policemen were on guard, preventing any one, but those having business, from entering the establishment.
“One side, please,” called a man suddenly, coming up behind the three chums. “I’m in a hurry.”
The boys turned aside, to give passage to a short, stout fussy man, who seemed in a tremendous state of excitement.
“That’s Sheriff Blackwell,” said Jerry. “I suppose he thinks the robbers are here waiting for him to arrest them.”
There was really little news of the robbery to be had. Mr. Judson related what particulars he knew to the police.
“I had a little more than one thousand dollars on hand late yesterday afternoon,” he said to the officers. “Several people paid me some bills, and, as it was late, I didn’t go to the bank, but locked the money up in the safe. I seldom do this, as the iron box is no match for burglars.
“As far as I know the only persons who knew the money was in the safe were my son and myself. I am sure neither he nor I told any one.”
“We must get right to work looking up clues,” said the sheriff.
But there were apparently no clues. As has been said, the door of the safe was of soft iron. The robber, or robbers, had used a cold chisel and a hammer, and cut out a section of the door around the big clumsy lock. Then it was a comparatively easy matter to get at the cash. The thieves had left nothing behind them that would throw any light on the mystery.
Having learned all they could, and seeing that there were likely to be no developments at the mill, the three chums wandered up the street. All the while Ned was busy thinking. Finally he said:
“Boys, I’ve something to tell you. I want to ask your advice. It’s about the robbery. Come where we can find a quiet place.”
Soon the three chums were sitting comfortably beneath a big oak tree, that cast a pleasant shade from the sun, which was already hot, though it was early in the day.
“Now, let’s hear the yarn,” said Chunky.
Thereupon Ned told what he had seen while watching the mill the previous night.
“Well, I should say you did know something about the robbery,” commented Jerry. “Why didn’t you tell this to the police?”
“I did think of it,” said Ned. “But I wanted to get some advice first. You see the light may or may not have had a connection with the crime.”
“Yes, but it looks suspicious, seeing Bill Berry around,” came from Bob.
“Are you sure it was him?” asked Jerry.
“As sure as I am that I’m talking to you now.”
“And are you just as positive that it was Noddy?”
“Even more so. Wasn’t I talking to him?”
“And he said he had fish bait in the square box?”
“He didn’t exactly say so, but he intimated as much.”
“If it was fish bait, why should he try to hide it, as you say he did?” asked Jerry.
“That’s what puzzles me,” replied Ned. “I only wish I had seen what Bill saw in the mill office when the light was burning.”
“Maybe Bill is the robber,” suggested Bob.
“I hardly think so,” was Ned’s opinion. “He may have had some connection with it, and may even have known about it. But, in my opinion the person who took the thousand dollars was the person who had the light in the office, and that wasn’t Bill.”
“Do you—do you think Noddy—er—Noddy took the money?” asked Bob in a hesitating tone. He felt rather delicate about accusing an acquaintance, even one so undesirable as Noddy, of a serious crime.
“Well, I hate to think so, but it does look suspicious,” said Ned. “He certainly acted afraid because he met me.”
“Could any one get out of the office any way except going through the front door?” asked Bob.
“Yes,” replied Ned. “There is a back door that goes out into the mill yard. From the yard a person could pass onto the road along the river, and then come up along the north side of the mill fence, on Peterson street.”
“And it was at the corner of Peterson street and Maple alley that you met Noddy, wasn’t it?”
“That’s just where it was.”
There was silence for a few minutes among the boys. Each one was busy with disagreeable thoughts.
“Did any of you hear how the mill office door was opened?” asked Ned.
“The lock wasn’t forced on either the back or front door,” answered Jerry. “So I was told. The police think the robber used a skeleton key.”
“Then it comes right down to a question. Is Noddy Nixon guilty?” asked Bob solemnly.
“It’s hard to decide,” replied Ned. “I’d hate to accuse any one, even when things look as suspicious as they do now. Do you think I ought to tell the police? Perhaps they will arrest both Bill and Noddy on suspicion.”
“You’d have to be a witness against them, and that would not be very pleasant,” suggested Jerry. “Besides their word would be as good as yours in court, and you have no proof. I think the best thing to do is to wait a while. If suspicion points more strongly to Noddy or Bill, then you can come forward and tell what you know.”
“Then I’ll wait a while,” said Ned. “In the meantime we can, all three, have an eye on Noddy and Bill. They may do something or say something that would give us a clue.”
“There’s another thing I don’t believe any of us have thought of,” came from Jerry.
“What’s that?”
“Why, you know, Mr. Nixon, Noddy’s father, owns several shares in Judson’s mill.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Ned.
“Positive. I heard mother saying something about it the other day. It seems the concern was made a stock company not long ago, and Mr. Judson wanted mother to invest some of her money in it. He remarked at the time that Mr. Nixon had taken ten shares of the stock, and thought it a good investment.”
“That might or might not throw additional suspicion on Noddy,” remarked Ned. “If he knew his father was interested, financially, in the iron mill, he hardly would take money that he knew might cause his father a loss.”
“Well, all this talking don’t bring matters any nearer a solution,” said Jerry, finally. “I think all we can do is to wait and watch.”
“And meet every day to compare notes,” suggested Ned.
It was the afternoon of the day the robbery of the mill was discovered. Ned, after his conference with his two chums, had gone down to his father’s store. He wanted to talk to Mr. Slade about the prospects of getting a motor-cycle. For, now that Jerry was about to get one, the desire on Ned’s part was all the stronger.
While standing in the front of the big department establishment his father owned Ned was surprised to see, passing on the other side of the street, Noddy Nixon and Paul Banner.
“That’s queer,” commented Ned. “I didn’t know Noddy and Paul were as chummy as that. They didn’t used to have much use for each other.”
Then the idea suddenly came to him, that here was the very opportunity he desired. He could follow Noddy and Paul, and see if he might learn anything.
The bully and the dude, as Ned could observe from time to time, did not seem to be exactly in accord. At times they would almost come to a halt, and dispute over something. Noddy seemed to be objecting to some course of action proposed by Paul.
“They must be going to the old wind mill,” commented Ned, as he saw Noddy and Paul turn down a street that led to an old-fashioned, and deserted flour mill, that, in by-gone days, had been operated by wind power. The mill was a good distance from the edge of the town, in the centre of a big field.
Sure enough that was the destination of the two young men. Ned was as close after them as he dared to go. There was little risk of his being noticed while he was on the streets, but, after leaving them there was greater danger of detection for the trailer.
“However,” argued Ned, “as long as I know where they are going, I don’t need to keep so close after them. I can wait until they get to the mill, and then I can go there too. By coming up from the back, where there are no windows, which I can do by going through Hedges’s Lane, they can’t see me.”
He approached the mill rapidly from the rear. As he came within hearing distance he could distinguish voices. And they seemed to be disputing. The ancient establishment was full of cracks and broken places, and the noise from inside passed out freely. Nearer and nearer hurried Ned. At last he reached the broad platform that ran all around the base of the mill. He proceeded cautiously, taking care not to step in the big holes that yawned here and there. He crept around to a place near the front entrance to the old structure. Fortunately here he found where a board had come loose, so that it afforded a good listening place.
“I don’t see what in the world you wanted to bring me all the way out to this lonely place for, my dear chap,” Paul was saying.
“It’s this way,” Noddy was explaining. “I told you I was short of cash, and had to ask you to wait until to-day to pay the bet I made with you.”
“But, my dear fellow,” “Polly” expostulated, “why couldn’t you pay me up there in town, just as well?”
“To tell you the truth,” said Noddy, in a tone that would indicate to any one who knew him that he was going to do just the opposite, “I didn’t want any one to see me paying you.”
“And why not, pray, my dear chap?”
“Because I owe quite a few bets,” replied Noddy. “I am going to square them all up in a day or so, but if those I owe saw me paying you they would all come down on me at once and I would be financially embarrassed. I suppose you’re ready to take the money now?”
“Ready, nay, anxious, my dear chap.”
“Well, I had a little trouble in getting it,” went on Noddy, not going into particulars, however. “And here it is. Just one hundred dollars, isn’t it?”
“Correct, my dear boy.”
“Ten fives are fifty,” said Noddy, counting out some bills, “and twenty is seventy. Twenty more is ninety, and that ten makes just the hundred.”
“Hold on here!” exclaimed Paul, when Noddy had come to the end of his counting. “This bill doesn’t look just right.”
“Which bill?”
“This last ten dollar one. I never saw one like it.”
“Nonsense, that’s all right,” responded Noddy. “Let’s see it.”
Paul passed it back.
“Why, certainly it’s good,” Noddy said. “It’s a state bank bill, instead of a national one, that’s all. Issued by the Merchants’ Bank of Boston.”
“But what’s that queer red mark on it?”
Noddy examined it more closely. Then he laughed.
“Some one has gone to the trouble of marking his initials on it in red ink,” he said. “Probably for identification, or to serve as a mark. Maybe it was once used as a marked bill,” and Noddy gave a short laugh. “See, there are the letters H. R. C.”
“I guess you’re right,” agreed Paul. “Well, hand it over. I must be going. Sorry you lost the bet, but losers must pay, you know.”
“Oh, I’m not squealing,” retorted Noddy.
“Guess I’ll be going,” went on Paul. “Beastly long walk back to town.”
Ned was glad to hear the sound of departing footsteps. He kept in hiding for five minutes, however, fearing Noddy might return. At the end of that time he ventured out. He saw Noddy and Paul almost across the field and knew he was safe.
Ned hurried back to town, going the same roundabout path he had taken in coming. He hastened to Jerry’s house and told him what had taken place, and the two hunted up Bob and related the events to him.
“Things are getting warm,” commented Bob.
“They are that,” replied Jerry.
“I wonder if one of us couldn’t get a talk with ‘Polly’ Banner?” suggested Jerry. “We might manage to get talking about queer bills, and ‘Polly’ would show us the one he had.”
“Suppose you try that,” Bob said.
“I’m willing,” Jerry responded. “I’ll take a walk down town now, and maybe I’ll meet him. You wait until I come back.”
Jerry resolved to first visit the club house of the athletic organization, as he knew Paul spent a good deal of his time there. Sure enough, he found Paul sitting at ease in a comfortable chair, smoking a perfumed cigarette and reading a book.
“I say, Paul,” said Jerry, “you’re not interested in old coins are you?”
“Old coins? No, my dear chap; why should I be interested in old coins?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I was just wondering. Some people collect old coins, and some stamps. I favor stamps, myself.”
“Now that you speak of it,” said Paul, “I remember I have an old bill about me. It’s rather odd. Maybe you’d be interested in it.”
“Let’s see,” replied Jerry, thanking his stars that he was about to accomplish his purpose so easily.
Paul drew out the odd ten dollar note Noddy had given him. Just as Ned had reported, it was an old style state bank note. And, in one of the blank spaces on the reverse side some one had made a very elaborate monogram of the initials H. R. C.
“Quite a curiosity,” observed Jerry, passing the bill back.
“I think so,” said Paul, puffing out thick clouds of smoke from his Egyptian cigarette. “But I suppose there is no premium on it.”
“There might be,” replied Jerry in as careless a tone as he could assume. “If I were you I’d save it and see.”
“I will,” said Paul. “I’ll place it in the very back part of my wallet, and I won’t spend it until I see a coin catalog. That’s an easy way to make money.”
“Where did you get the bill?” asked Jerry. “Perhaps you can get more.”
“Noddy Nixon gave it to me,” responded Paul. “I wasn’t going to take it at first, but he told me it was good.”
“Oh, I reckon it’s good enough,” answered Jerry. “Well, I guess I’ll be traveling. Good-bye, Paul.”
“Good afternoon, my dear chap,” answered Paul, lighting another cigarette.
“I’ll not forget how that bill looks,” said Jerry to himself, as he sought his two chums and told them what had taken place between Paul and himself.
It was about a week after the foregoing events when Jerry received a letter, bearing in the upper left-hand corner of the envelope the mark of the C. H. & D. Railroad.
He read the missive, which was short and to the point. Briefly it informed Jerry that there awaited him at the freight office of the road one motor-cycle, which he could have by calling and presenting the enclosed way-bill.
“Hurrah!” shouted the boy. “Three cheers for the Cresville Athletic Club and Mr. Wakefield! Hurrah!”
Jerry lost no time in calling for his two chums, and the three boys hurried together to the freight depot.
“What can I do for you boys?” asked Mr. Hitter, the agent in charge.
“I come to get what that calls for,” replied Jerry, handing over the way-bill.
“Oh, yes, one of them new-fangled bicycles that take a steam engine to run ’em. Well, you’ll find it down at the end of the platform,” said Mr. Hitter. “Now, be careful, and don’t blow yourself up. Boys is dreadful careless like,” he muttered, as he went on with his work.
Boxed in a big crate, at the end of the freight platform, the boys found the motor-cycle. It was addressed in big letters to “Jerry Hopkins, Esq.,” and marked “With Care.”
“Shall I unpack it here or get it taken up to the house, crate and all?” asked Jerry of his chums.
“Oh, unpack it here. Then you can ride it home,” said Bob.
“I know about as much how to ride one as I would how to run a locomotive,” objected Jerry. “I’ve studied the catalogs, of course, but I think I’d better start it up at home first.”
“Oh, go ahead, ride it home,” put in Ned. “We can manage to find out how it works, and we can get some gasolene over to the drug store.”
So, rather against his own calmer judgment, Jerry decided to do as his friends wished. He borrowed a hammer from Mr. Hitter and soon the crate was broken apart and the motor-cycle, in all its mechanical beauty, was revealed.
It certainly was a fine machine and had all the latest improvements. There were two cylinders instead of one, insuring great speed; the tires were large, and there was a large reservoir for gasolene. It was of the latest make and not generally on the market as yet.
“Here’s a book that tells all about how to run it,” said Bob, catching sight of a pamphlet of directions.
The boys read the directions over carefully. It seemed simple enough. All there was to do was to put some gasolene in the tank, see that the batteries gave a proper current, start the machine off, turn on the gasolene, switch on the spark and ride off.
“I’ll get the gasolene,” volunteered Ned. He ran over to the drug store and came back with a can full.
“Now try and see if there’s a good spark,” Jerry suggested.
Satisfied that the batteries were in working order, Jerry prepared to take his first ride. The street leading from the railroad depot was a long straight wide one.
“It’s a good thing,” commented Jerry, referring to the highway. “There’s plenty of chance to be run away with, and not damage anything. I can ride clear to New York if I go far enough.”
“I wouldn’t this time, though,” said Bob.
Jerry smiled. It was a rather dubious sort of a grin, to be sure. Much as he wanted a motor-cycle, he knew there was a little risk in riding one when he was not thoroughly familiar with it. However, he wasn’t going to back out. He got on the ponderous machine, which Bob and Ned steadied for him.
“Give me a little shove.”
Bob and Ned did so.
“Work the pedals and get a good start,” advised Bob.
Jerry did so. Soon he was moving off at a fair speed, though, of course, just as if he was on an ordinary bicycle.
“Turn on the gasolene!” shouted Ned.
“And throw in the spark!” called Bob.
“Here she goes,” Jerry yelled back.
There was a series of sharp explosions, like a machine gun being fired at top speed, and the motor-cycle, with Jerry aboard, started off.
“Hurrah!” shouted Ned and Bob.
Bang! Bang! Bang! the machine went, and soon Jerry was a quarter of a mile down the road.
“He ought to shut off the exhaust,” commented Bob. “He can do that on this machine. On some you can’t.”
The two boys, thinking of nothing but motor-cycles and their chances of getting them, passed down the road. Jerry was out of sight. In a little while they espied a cloud of dust down the highway. It seemed to be moving toward them.
“Here comes Jerry, I guess,” Bob said.
“And he’s moving like the wind!” exclaimed Ned.
In a few minutes the dust cloud was nearer, and then the boys saw that it was Jerry approaching at a rapid rate. His machine did not make so much noise now. But, as he came nearer, Bob and Ned, who caught a glimpse of his face, thought he looked a little worried.
“Hold on! Can’t you stop?” cried Bob, for Jerry was about to pass.
“That’s the trouble!” Jerry yelled as he whizzed past. “I can’t seem to shut off the power!”
Then he was lost in a cloud of dust, going down the road in the opposite direction.
“Something’s wrong!” Bob ejaculated.
“He’s forgotten which lever to pull!” exclaimed Ned. “If he don’t look out there’ll be trouble.”
As he spoke Jerry came flying back.
“Can’t one of you do something?” he cried. “I’m afraid to take my hands off the bars long enough to pull the levers again, and the last time I yanked them I seemed to turn on more power. I’ll ride down the road a way and turn back. Think up something in the meanwhile!”
“He’s in a pickle!” exclaimed Ned.
“I have it!” cried Bob.
“What?”
“The next time he comes past yell at him to ride around in a circle until we can look in the book of directions on how to run a motor-cycle.”
And so, the next time Jerry whizzed by, with a comical worried look on his face, Bob yelled:
“Ride around us in a circle, Jerry. Make believe you’re on the track. Ned and I will look in the book and see how to stop you!”
Jerry obeyed. Around and around he went, the machine kicking up a cloud of dust. In the centre of the ring stood Bob and Ned, poring over the pages of the book.
“There it is!” cried Ned, pointing to something on one page.
“What does it say?” asked Bob.
“To stop the machine pull lever A and throw off B toward you three notches,” read Ned.
“Pull lever A and throw off B toward you three notches!” Bob yelled to Jerry.
“Which is lever A and which is lever B?” asked Jerry. “They’re not marked on the machine.”
“That’s so, I forgot that,” admitted Ned.
“What am I going to do?” begged Jerry. “Have I got to ride around like this all night?”
“What’s in the name of Tunket is the trouble?” asked Mr. Hitter, the station agent, who was on his way down the road, and who had come to where Jerry was riding around in a circle with Bob and Ned in the centre.
“He can’t stop!” cried Ned and Bob at once.
“I knowed there’d some trouble come of that machine,” said Mr. Hitter, shaking his head. “I told you not to monkey with ’em. It all comes of man trying to improve on nature. Walking’s good enough for me. What particular form of trouble does the critter seem to be suffering from? I mean the motor-cycle.”
“There’s two levers,” explained Bob. “One is A and the other is B, according to the book. The trouble is they are not marked on the machine, and Jerry don’t know which one to pull.”
“Well, not knowing much about the case, I would advise him to pull ’em both,” said Mr. Hitter. “He can’t be any worse off than he is now, and maybe it’ll stop him.”
“Good!” exclaimed Bob. “That’s it. Why didn’t we think of that?”
“Why didn’t we?” was all Ned could say.
Then they both shouted to Jerry, who was still pursuing his weary round:
“Move both levers, Jerry!”
Jerry did so. In an instant the motor-cycle ceased the explosions, and, in a little while it slowed down so that Jerry could dismount.
“Well, that certainly was an experience,” commented Jerry, as he wiped the dust from his face. “But it was fun all the same,” he added, whereat Mr. Hitter laughed.
“Boys will be boys,” the station agent muttered as he went off down the road.
“Funny the machine got such a fit on,” said Ned, examining the motor-cycle closely. “I didn’t think they would act like that.”
“Here’s the difficulty,” cried Bob, who was also looking over the apparatus. “This piece of wire ought to have been taken off. It was put on temporarily when the machine was packed. See, it held the gasolene lever and the spark one also, so they couldn’t come back separately. You had to pull them both at once to shut off the flow of fluid and the current of electricity. It’s a thing that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t been in such a hurry.”
“Well, it all came out right,” said Jerry. “I’m going to ride the machine home.”
And he did without further mishap, stopping and starting the motor without trouble, now that the wire was off.
That night two very earnest lads implored two fathers to purchase motor-cycles for them. As Bob and Ned were both sons of well-to-do parents the matter was not much one of cost.
“To tell you the truth,” said Mr. Baker to Bob. “I’m a little afraid of those machines. They are dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful,” pleaded Bob.
“I know, but that’s what every one says at first,” objected Mr. Baker.
At the same time the same sort of a conversation was going on in the Slade household.
“You say there’s no danger,” Mr. Slade was remarking in answer to Ned’s statement to that effect. “But I heard about Jerry Hopkins and his experience this afternoon. It seems to me there was danger there.”
It was three days before the two fathers arrived at a decision. They had consulted in the meanwhile, and Jerry’s machine had been closely examined. Bob and Ned had both taken turns on it, and showed that, after a little practice, they could run it perfectly. Jerry, also, had become quite expert.
In the meantime the boys were so engrossed with the idea of motor-cycles that they had almost forgotten about the mill robbery. They met, according to appointment, under the tree in the woods, but there was nothing new to tell. With the discovery of the queer bank bill, and the knowledge that Paul Banner was saving it, the boys resolved to let the matter rest for a while.
The police and detectives, and even the fussy sheriff, had discovered nothing, save that the money was gone, which every one knew. As for Noddy, he did not act like a guilty person. Bill Berry had disappeared for the time being.
Noddy seemed to have plenty of money. He was careful not to apply to his father again, however, and the source of his supply was a mystery except to himself. In about a week Mr. Nixon, of his own accord, gave Noddy two hundred dollars.
“I hope you will spend it wisely, my son,” he said. “It is wicked to waste money, when so much good can be done with it.”
“I say, father,” began Bob to Mr. Baker one evening, a little more than a week after the time Jerry had received his prize motor-cycle, “have you thought any more about that machine for me?”
“I have made up my mind,” went on Mr. Baker, with exasperating slowness, “that you can not—”
“Oh, father!” burst out Bob.
“That you can not get along without one,” finished the banker with a laugh, “and so I have ordered one for you.”
“Thanks dad!” was all Bob could say, but the two words meant a good deal.
At the same time, according to arrangement between Mr. Baker and Mr. Slade, the latter was announcing to his son Ned, that he could have the much-wanted machine. If there were two happier boys than Ned and Bob in Cresville that night, no one knew where to find them.
“We’ll have lots of sport,” said Bob. “I know of a dozen trips we can take, that would be too long for a bicycle.”
Three days later the two motor-cycles came, and the chums could hardly wait to unpack them. Bob’s and Ned’s machines were just like Jerry’s except in a few minor points.
Jerry was delighted that his chums’ machines had arrived. He got his own out and soon all three were speeding down the road. In point of fastness there was not much to choose from among the three motors. None of the boys had risked running the cycles at top speed yet, and at the half-way mark each one developed about the same swiftness.
The boys rode for several miles. It was a pleasant day, with a bright sun overhead, while an early morning shower had laid the dust. After an hour’s travel Bob said:
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m hungry.”
In a few minutes they stopped their motor-cycles in front of a big white farm house, and walked up the path to the side door.
On the porch they found a motherly looking woman churning. She smiled at the sight of the three boys, and took off her apron, which was splashed with butter-milk, as she came forward to greet them.
“Good-afternoon,” she said pleasantly.
“We stopped to see if we could get something to eat,” began Jerry. “We’re willing to pay for it, of course,” he added, fearing the woman might think they were tramps. “Anything will do. Some cookies, a little milk or a piece of pie.”
“I guess I can fix you something,” said the woman. “Hi! You Jason!” she called in a loud voice. “Come and run this churn while I set out a lunch for some visitors.”
In answer to her hail an old man shuffled around the corner of the house.
“I’m comin’,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’m a leetle mite slow, ’cause the rheumatiz catches me to-day, Alvirah. But I’m comin’.”
“It’s my grand uncle,” the woman explained to the boys. “He’s almost ninety years old, but he can churn as good as I can. Can’t you, Jason.”
“I reckon so, Alvirah.”
While the farmer’s wife bustled around to set out a simple meal for the boys, the latter sat out on the porch watching old Jason chum. He moved the dasher up and down, a queer chugging sound following each stroke.
“How did you come, anyhow? Walk?” asked the old man presently.
“On motor-cycles,” replied Ned.
“I didn’t know they had them flyin’ machines in working order yit,” exclaimed the old man.
“Come on, boys,” interrupted the farmer’s wife. “I have a little something here for you.”
The “little something” proved to be quite a meal. There was nice fresh bread, with the best butter the boys had ever eaten. There was also honey right from the bee hives, some rich milk, a plate of doughnuts and cheese, and two big pies, one apple and the other peach.
“This is very kind of you,” said Jerry. “We didn’t want you to go to all this trouble.”
“I’m sure it’s no trouble,” replied the woman. “I’m glad you came along. It’s rather lonesome out this way. We don’t often have company.”
The boys ate with a will. When they had finished there was not much left on the table.
“How much do we owe you?” asked Jerry, as he and his chums rose in preparation to continue their journey.
“Oh, I reckon ten cents will be about right,” was the answer. But Jerry insisted on paying twenty-five cents for each, and, after some argument, the woman accepted it.
Soon the boys were well on the road toward Cresville. They talked of many things, and planned several trips in the near future. As they turned into the main road leading to their homes they heard a chugging sound behind them.
All three came to a halt, dismounted, and sat down under a tree. Nearer and nearer came the sound of the approaching motor-cycle. Then, in a cloud of dust, a solitary rider whizzed past.
“Did you see who that was?” asked Ned. “Noddy Nixon.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I heard the other day that he was going to get a machine. That was him, sure enough.”
“I don’t think he goes so very fast,” observed Jerry.
“He does, all the same,” was Bob’s opinion. “You can make up your mind Noddy will have as fast a machine as there is built.”
“I suppose he bought it with some of the proceeds of the mill robbery,” cried Jerry.
“Hush!” cried Ned. “Don’t say such things. Some one might hear you and it would make trouble. Besides, we have not proved Noddy guilty yet.”
“Well,” said Bob with a shrug of his shoulders, “I hope we don’t meet him very often when we are out on the road. He’s not the most pleasant fellow in the world.”
“There’s not much danger of his seeking our company,” came from Jerry. “He is not overfond of any of us.”
The three boys rested for a while beneath the tree and then, as the sun sank, they mounted their cycles, put on good speed, and arrived home in time for supper, bearing excellent appetites, in spite of the good meal they had had at the farm house.