"THE SILVANDOS"
"I declare!" exclaimed Ralph Fairbanks.
"For mercy's sake!" echoed Fred Porter.
Both stood spellbound just within the grounds of the Fairbanks' home,
where they had arrived. Over towards the dividing lot line of the next
door neighbor, their eyes had lit upon an unusual and interesting
scene.
Two figures were in action among the branches of the great oak tree.
They were boys, and their natural appearance was enough to attract
attention. They were leaping, springing, chasing one another from
branch to branch, with a remarkable agility that made one think of
monkeys and next trained athletes.
"Who are they, anyway?" demanded Fred.
"They are new to me," confessed the young engineer.
The two strangers were about of an age, under sixteen. It would puzzle
one to figure out their nationality. Their faces were tawny, but
delicate of profile, their forms exquisitely molded. They suggested
Japanese boys. Then Ralph decided they more resembled lithe Malay
children of whom he had seen photographs. At all events, they were
natural tree climbers. They made the most daring leaps from frail
branches. They sprung from twigs that broke in their deft grasp, but
not until they had secured the purchase they aimed at in the act to
send them flying through the air to some other perilous point in view.
Their feats were fairly bewildering, and as one landed on the ground
like a rubber ball and the other chased him out of sight in the next
yard, Ralph conducted his companion into the house with these words:
"That's odd enough to investigate."
He did not announce his arrival to his mother, but led Fred up to his
room. As he passed that now occupied by the Foggs, it made his heart
glad to hear the fireman crowing at the baby to the accompaniment of a
happy laugh from the fireman's wife.
"You can wash up and tidy up, Porter," he said to his friend. "I'll
arrange for an extra plate, and take you down later to meet the best
mother in the world."
"This is an imposition on you good people," declared Fred, but Ralph
would not listen to him. He went downstairs and out the front way,
and came around the house looking all about for some trace of the two
remarkable creatures he had just seen. They had disappeared, however,
as if they were veritable wood elves. Passing the kitchen window, the
young engineer halted.
"Hello!" he uttered. "Zeph Dallas is back again," and then he listened
casually, for Zeph was speaking to his mother.
"Yes, Mrs. Fairbanks," Ralph caught the words, "I'm the bad penny that
turns up regularly, only I've got some good dollars this time. On the
mantel is the money I owe Ralph for the clothes he got me."
"But can you spare the money?" spoke Mrs. Fairbanks.
"Sure I can, and the back board, too," declared Zeph, and glancing in
through the open window Ralph noted the speaker, his fingers in his
vest armholes, strutting around most grandly.
"I can't understand how you came to get so much money in two days,"
spoke the lady. "You couldn't have earned it in that short space of
time, Zeph."
"No, ma'am," admitted Zeph, "but I've got it, haven't I? It's honest
money, Mrs. Fairbanks. It's an advance on my wages--expense money and
such, don't you see?"
"Then you have secured work, Zeph?"
"Steady work, Mrs. Fairbanks."
"What at, Zeph?"
"Mrs. Fairbanks," answered the lad in a hushed, mysterious tone of
voice, "I am hired as a detective."
"You're what?" fairly shouted Ralph through the window.
"Hello! you here, are you?" cried Zeph, and in a twinkling he had
joined Ralph outside the house. "Yes, sir," he added, with an
important air that somewhat amused Ralph, "I've landed this time. On
both feet. Heart's desire at last--I'm a detective."
Ralph had to smile. He recalled the first arrival of honest but
blundering Zeph Dallas at Stanley Junction, a raw country bumpkin.
Even then the incipient detective fever had been manifested by the
crude farmer boy. From the confident, self-assured tone in which Zeph
now spoke, the young railroader was forced to believe that he had
struck something tangible at last in his favorite line.
"What are you detecting, Zeph?" he inquired.
"That's a secret."
"Indeed--and what agency are you working for--the government?"
"That," observed Zeph gravely, "is also a secret--for the present.
See here, Ralph Fairbanks, you're guying me. You needn't. Look at
that."
With great pride Zeph threw back his coat. It was to reveal a star
pinned to his vest.
"Yes," nodded Ralph, "I see it, but it doesn't tell who you are."
"Don't it say 'Special'?" demanded Zeph, with an offended air.
"Yes, I see the word."
"Well, then, that's me--special secret service, see? Of course, I
don't look much like a detective, just common and ordinary now, but
I'm going to buy a wig and a false beard, and then you'll see."
"Oh, Zeph!" exclaimed Ralph.
"All right, you keep right on laughing at me," said Zeph. "All the
same, I'm hired. What's more, I'm paid. Look at that--I've got the job
and I've got the goods. That shows something, I fancy," and Zeph waved
a really imposing roll of bank notes before the sight of the young
engineer.
"Your employers must think you a pretty good man to pay you in
advance," suggested Ralph.
"They do, for a fact," declared Zeph. "They know they can depend upon
me. Say, Ralph, it's funny the way I fell into the job. You never in
your life heard of the slick and easy way I seemed to go rolling
right against it. And the mystery, the deadly secrets, the--the--hold
on, though, I'm violating the eth--eth--yes, ethics of the
profession."
"No, no--go on and tell us something about it," urged Ralph. "I'm
interested."
"Can't. I've gone too far already. Sworn to secrecy. Honestly, I'm not
romancing, Ralph, I'm working on a case that reads like a story book.
Some of the strange things going on--they fairly stagger me. I can't
say another word just now, but just the minute I can, you just bet
I'll tell you all about it, Ralph Fairbanks. Say, you haven't seen two
boys around here, have you--two tiny fellows? I left them in the
garden here. They're in my charge, and I mustn't lose sight of them,"
and Zeph began looking all around the place.
"Two human monkeys, who make no more of flying through the air than
you or I do to run a race?" inquired Ralph.
"That's them," assented Zeph.
"They were here a few minutes ago," advised Ralph, "but I don't see
them just now. I wondered who they were. The last I saw of them, they
were chasing one another over our neighbors' lot over there."
"I must find them," said Zeph. "They are another of my
responsibilities. I hear them."
As Zeph spoke, there proceeded from the alley a mellow and peculiar
but very resonant whistle. It was followed by a responsive whistle,
clear as a calliope note. Then into view dashed the two boys for whom
Zeph was looking. They were still chasing one another, and the
foremost of the twain was making for the house. As he passed a tree
full tilt, without the least apparent exertion he leaped up lightly,
seized a branch, coiled around it like a rubber band, and his pursuer
passed under him at full speed.
"This way, Kara--hey, Karo," called out Zeph, and the two strange lads
came up to him with a fawn-like docility, in keeping with the mild,
timid expression of their faces.
"Sare," spoke one of them with a bow, and his companion repeated the
word. They both bowed to Ralph next, and stood like obedient children
awaiting orders. Ralph was silent for fully a minute, studying their
unfamiliar make-up. At that moment Fred Porter, having come down
stairs the front way, strolled around the corner of the house.
"This is my friend, Fred Porter--Zeph--Zeph Dallas, Porter,"
introduced the young railroader, and the two boys shook hands. Porter
became instantly interested in the two strange lads.
"I'm going to show you fellows something," said Zeph, "something
mighty remarkable, something you never saw before, and it's going to
beat anything you ever heard of. About those two boys. Kara!"
One of the two lads instantly moved to the side of Zeph, who beckoned
to him to follow him. He led the boy ten feet away behind a thick
large bush, his back to the others.
"Karo," he spoke again, and the other boy allowed him to turn him
around where he stood, his back to the other boy.
"See here, Zeph," spoke Ralph with a broad smile, "are you going to
give us a detective demonstration of some kind, or a sleight-of-hand
demonstration?"
"Quit guying me, Ralph Fairbanks," said Zeph. "You're always at it,
but I'm going to give you something this time that will make you sit
up and take notice, I'll bet. Those boys came from a good many
thousand miles away--from the other side of the world, in fact."
"They look it," observed Fred Porter.
"Gomera," exclaimed Zeph.
"Where's that now?" inquired Fred.
"It is the smallest of the Canary Islands."
"Oh, that's it!"
"And they talk without saying a word," was Zeph's next amazing
announcement.
"Whew!" commented Fred dubiously.
"They do. It's that I'm going to show you. Perhaps those boys are the
only two of their kind in the United States. They are Silvandos."
"What are Silvandos, Zeph?" inquired Ralph.
"Silvandos," replied Zeph, with manifest enjoyment of the fact that he
was making a new and mystifying disclosure, "are persons who carry on
a conversation through a whistling language."