AN ACCIDENT BETRAYS RUFUS
“I guess yesterday was your big day, all right, Lanky!”
Frank laughed as he made this remark. It was Sunday afternoon, and he
was taking a little stroll with his chum, “just to show the natives
that they were as fresh as daisies after that five-mile Marathon
yesterday,” as Lanky put it.
“Well, it did come pretty thick and fast, for a fact,” admitted the
one for whom the remark was intended. “But my mother had pity on me,
and let me sleep late this fine Sunday morning. Just got up in time to
dress, have my breakfast, and then go to church.”
“I’m sorry I missed that little affair on the river,” Frank went on.
“From all the accounts I heard, it must have been a great time.”
“It sure was a dandy picnic, Frank,” admitted the other, without
hesitation, and drawing in a long breath, as imagination once more
transported him back to the moment when he held Dora up with his right
arm, and used the left to keep both of them afloat.
“And you went all the way up to the Baxter farm afterwards, they say,
Lanky?”
“Oh! it isn’t so very far,” remonstrated the other. “The river makes a
lot of turns, you know; and when a fellow is skating, it seems longer
than when you’re in a buggy, on the main road, alongside a girl, and
there’s just _heaps_ to be explained.”
“That’s right, Lanky, it does,” replied Frank, with a knowing look.
“And I reckon it was all explained, too, long before you got to the
Baxter place?”
“Smooth sailing from this on, Frank,” the other quickly retorted. “You
see, when poor old Walter, with all his good looks, had to own up that
he couldn’t swim a little bit, with Dora in the river a-waitin’ for
somebody to do the rescue act, even if she can swim better’n any girl
around Columbia, it just made her disgusted with such a poor stick.
Anyhow, she told me she never had cared much for him, and was goin’
home from choir meetin’s with Walter just because she was mean, and
wanted to hurt me. But it’s all right now, Frank; and I guess we’re
better friends than ever before.”
“Well, that’s going some,” remarked Frank, knowingly. “But, Lanky,
how in the wide world did you put on such an immense amount of steam
in the last half mile? Why, I saw in a jiffy that I was a back number
yesterday, and there was no use of a fellow trying to head you off. You
went like the wind, I tell you. Give me the secret, if you don’t mind.
It might come handy in the big, long run.”
“Shucks! it’s nothin’, after all,” replied Lanky. “I just kept thinkin’
of her, and how sorry she’d feel that our friendship was busted, when
she saw me come in first, and heard everybody yelling. And she was,
Frank, she admitted that to me. Why, she even couldn’t help jumpin’
up, and clappin’ her little hands, forgettin’ right then that there
had ever been a wide gulf come between us. But it’s all right now,
Frank, and there’s no such silly spat goin’ to happen any more. We both
promised that.”
“Well, I’m glad that Walter has become a back number,” Frank observed;
“because I knew you were worrying a lot about losing such a good little
friend as Dora. You always did think a heap of her, right from the
start. Remember the time that tramp set their farmhouse afire, after
robbing them; and when we were skating up that way we had a roaring
time putting out the blaze?”
“That was sure a screaming old time, Frank; I think of it often, and
how pretty Dora did look, with her rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes.”
“Hold on, let’s change the subject,” broke in Frank, with a laugh. “I
suppose now, you’re beginning to think your wire went astray, and that
we’ll never hear from that Mr. Elverson?”
Lanky sobered up instantly.
“Say, three and a quarter gone up the flume, Frank,” he remarked,
shrugging his shoulders in an expressive way. “Not that I’m carin’ so
much for the hard cash, if only it ended in somethin’. But it comes in
too slow to be just thrown away like that.”
“Wait,” said Frank, as he had done before; “the game isn’t over yet,
by a long sight, Lanky. Sooner or later that message is just bound to
catch up with Mr. Elverson; and if he hasn’t found his little Effie
yet, it’ll bring an answer as fast as he can get it on the wires.”
“But the gypsies’ll sure vamoose long before that!” expostulated Lanky.
“Let ’em go,” Frank went on, as though he did not mean to worry over
such a little thing. “Between us we ought to be able to find out some
way to keep tabs on the tribe, no matter where they wander. And once
we hear from the gentleman, if he hasn’t found his girl, and she _did_
wear such a baby bonnet as you described, why, it’ll be easy to get on
a train, and go to the town near where they’re camped right then.”
“Of course it will, Frank,” Lanky admitted, brightening up like magic.
“There never was a chum like you to see ahead. The fog can’t get so
thick but what you manage to punch a hole in it, and glimpse light on
the other side. Why, of course we can do what you say. It’s easy as
fallin’ off a log.”
“Then stop bothering your head about it, Lanky.”
“Guess I will,” answered the tall boy, resolutely.
“I told you that other business would come out all right, sooner or
later; didn’t I?” Frank demanded.
“That’s straight goods, Frank.”
“And it did, you noticed, Lanky?”
“It sure did,” was the candid admission of the other; “but see here,
Frank, with all your smartness, I don’t reckon you ever dreamed it’d
happen the way it did, now?”
“Well, I should say not,” returned Frank, highly amused. “Why, I never
even had the slightest idea that you meant to go back to town aboard
that old tub of Ben Allison’s; or that a certain young lady would be a
passenger, too. And as to expecting Ben to steer into a sunken snag,
and knock Dora overboard, why, who’d ever dream of such a thing? And
it all worked out as fine as silk for you. But you seem to be wanting
to turn off the main road here, and take that one leading to Budd’s
Corners?”
“I see you’re onto me, all right,” confessed Lanky. “Fact is, Frank,
since we’re out for a little walk, I thought it wouldn’t matter much if
so be we turned in the direction of the gypsy camp.”
“Oh! I’m willing enough, if you promise me you won’t go to prowling
around when we strike there, so as to make the men folks notice us.
Remember, Lanky, once we give that sharp old queen any reason to
believe we’ve got an interest in what she’s got hidden away in that
wagon, the game’s up.”
“I hold up my hand and promise you to be careful,” the tall boy
returned, as he went through the performance. “But looky there what’s
comin’ along back of us like a house afire!”
“Only a boy on a bike, but he’s whooping it up rather fast,” Frank
admitted, as he turned his head to look.
“Say, I know that feller, all right,” Lanky declared, as the boy on the
wheel rapidly drew nearer to where they stood on the narrow road.
“Seems to me there’s something familiar about him, too,” said Frank.
“His name is Rufus, isn’t it, Lanky?”
“Right the first guess--Rufus Kline.”
“Wasn’t that the name of one of Bill Klemm’s cronies--Watkins Kline?”
continued Frank, still observing the approaching boy on the wheel.
“Yep; and they say his mother is nigh crazy because nobody’s seen
a sign of any of that crowd since they skipped out, after the
schoolhouse fire,” Lanky went on to say.
“Looks like Rufus must have been sent on an errand this fine Sunday
afternoon,” Frank next remarked; “because I notice that he’s got
something of a bundle tied to the handle-bars of his wheel. It’s clumsy
enough to make him wobble more than a little as he rides, too.”
“Huh! that surprises me some, too,” Lanky remarked, as he stood there,
watching the boy, who was now rapidly drawing nearer to them, and
appeared to be wondering whether the two meant to stand aside and let
him pass, or hold him up; in fact his actions seemed to indicate that
Rufus was bothered not a little.
“Why should it?” demanded Frank, always ready to learn facts when he
could.
“You see,” his chum hastily replied, “Mrs. Kline is a very religious
woman, which makes it all the more queer why she lets her boy go with
such fellers as Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes. Now, I never’d ’a’ believed
she’d sent Rufus on an errand, and carryin’ a package like that, on a
Sunday.”
“Oh! you never can tell,” replied Frank. “Perhaps he’s taking something
to a sick woman friend of hers. There are lots of times when rules have
to be broken, I reckon. But you don’t think of holding him up, just to
ask; do you, Lanky?”
“I thought I’d inquire, Frank, just from curiosity, you see,” with a
grin. “They say women-folks have all the curiosity there is, but I
notice that boys--yes, and men, too--seem to have their share.”
“Hey! get off the road there, and let me past!” called out Rufus,
slackening his speed somewhat, and looking bothered.
“Where you goin’ this fine Sunday afternoon, Rufus, and carryin’ that
big package, too?” demanded Lanky. “Don’t you dare run me down, or
somethin’ll happen right quick, understand. Keep off, now, I tell you!”
Something did happen, and just as speedily as Lanky had prophesied.
Rufus, in his eagerness to slip by, made a miscalculation; and being
also unbalanced by the sudden swinging of the large bundle hanging from
his handle-bars, he slipped off the road into the shallow ditch that
ran alongside.
As a natural consequence, boy and wheel came down with a crash.
“Oh! that’s too bad, Lanky; you’ve made him take a header!” exclaimed
Frank. “I hope he isn’t hurt!”
Rufus was struggling to regain his feet, feeling of his left leg at the
same time, and apparently hardly knowing whether to cry or get angry.
He finally compromised by whimpering.
“See what you did, Lanky Wallace, by bein’ mean, and wantin’ to take
the whole road?” he exclaimed, for Rufus was red-haired, and had a
temper, too, in the bargain.
Lanky stepped over to the wheel, and began to lift it out of the ditch.
Perhaps he was already sorry for interfering with the lone rider.
It had really been none of his business where the younger Kline boy
happened to be going on his bicycle. The fact that it was Sunday, and
Rufus had a strict mother, who would not on ordinary occasions allow
him to use his wheel on that day, might have excited Lanky’s curiosity,
but it was no excuse for him to crowd the boy off the road.
“I oughtn’t to have done it, Rufus,” Lanky spoke up, with evident
contrition in his voice and manner; “it was sure none of my business
where you happened to be meanderin’ this Sunday afternoon. The road is
free to everybody, gypsy as well as citizens of Columbia. Here’s your
wheel; and outside of this bent handle-bar it doesn’t look like there
was any damage done. I can straighten that in a jiffy.”
This he proceeded to do, after hauling the bicycle up on the road again.
“Frank,” he added, immediately afterward, “will you pick up that
bundle, and tie it on again to the handle-bar after I get it a little
straighter? It went flyin’ when the wheel slipped on the road, and
took a flop.”
But Rufus sprang forward, and snatched the package out of Frank’s
hands. There was almost a fierceness in his manner, that surprised the
other very much.
“Don’t you dare meddle with my things, Frank Allen!” he cried. “Guess
I can tie it up again myself, without any of your help. Next time
you fellers better keep to one side, and let a wheel go past without
blocking the road. It’s pretty small potatoes to have two big fellers
pick on one little boy!”
“That’s right, Rufus; and I’m ashamed of myself for botherin’ you,”
admitted Lanky; “there you are; and nobody’d ever know that handle-bar
had been twisted. It’s weak, anyway, and I reckon this isn’t the first
time she’s bent on you. Want me to give you a send-off, Rufus?”
“Naw!” snapped the boy, crossly; “just let me be; and as soon as I’ve
got this package of clothin’ my maw’s sendin’ to a sick woman, tied up
again, I’ll be all right. I’d thank you to keep away. I might ’a’ broke
my neck takin’ that header.”
He quickly fastened the recovered package to the front of the wheel,
and mounting from the rear, was off along the road. Lanky looked
queerly at Frank.
“That was a silly thing for me to do,” he said. “I ought to be ashamed
of myself to bother a smaller fellow. That curiosity is a terrible
business, Frank. But looky here, what ails you?”
“I was thinking, that’s all, Lanky. An idea seemed to just jump into my
mind. You noticed how he didn’t want me to tie up that bundle; didn’t
you?”
“Why, yes, he was some touchy, that’s a fact,” answered the other,
slowly, as if unable to understand what Frank was driving at.
“I saw something of what it contained; and Lanky, a sick woman might
want the loaf of bread, wedge of cake and the other food; but tell me,
what would she care for boy’s trousers made of corduroy, like the pair
I’ve seen Watkins Kline wear on Saturdays, when he was off playing?”
Lanky stared all the harder, but the truth began to seep into his brain.
“Tell me about that!” he exclaimed. “I see what you mean now, Frank;
Rufus is taking supplies to his brother, who is hiding somewhere in the
woods with Bill Klemm and Asa Barnes! And he didn’t want us to know
it.”