THE ENEMY NEAR
Frank Merrick and Bob Hampton looked at each other in alarm. Their
faces were pale.
That cry for "Help" which abruptly had cut off Jack's voice as he
spoke to them from his radiophone station 2,000 miles away in New
Mexico still rang in their ears. Their heads still hummed from the
vibrating crash which had succeeded. What did it all mean?
Frank snatched the receiver from his head, while Bob removed his more
slowly. Frank voiced the question in each mind as he said in a tone of
apprehension:
"What do you think happened to Jack?"
"You know as much as I do," answered his chum.
"Well, do you know what I think?" asked Frank with energy. "I think
those Mexican bandits he spoke about sneaked up on him."
"Well, if they did, they caught a Tartar," said Bob, with conviction,
remembering Jack's athletic prowess. All three boys were athletic,
good swimmers, boxers and wrestlers, as well as skillful fencers.
Jack, however, was unquestionably the superior of the others, except
that Bob was the best wrestler.
Frank shook his head dubiously. "I don't know," he said. "If there was
a bunch of them and if they sneaked up from behind while he was
talking."
"Just the same," said Bob, "old Jack would put up some battle. I'll
bet you the furniture got mussed up all right, all right. That's the
reason for that crash. Probably the microphone was torn from the
cords. They may even have wrecked the station. Boy, oh boy, don't I
wish I'd been there." And Bob doubled up his fists and pranced around,
making deadly swings at imaginary foes.
"Calm down, Bob," said Frank, dropping into a chair and running a hand
through his hair as he was in the habit of doing when perplexed. "We
don't know that it happened the way we figure. We don't know what
happened. Maybe Jack was badly hurt, maybe he was killed. Or he may be
a prisoner of the bandits.
"Oh," he cried, leaping to his feet and beginning to walk up and down
the room distractedly, "isn't there something we can do? This is
maddening."
"Calm down yourself, Frank," said Bob, always the cooler of the two in
a crisis. "If we can't do any better, at least we can wire to Jack's
father and find out in a few hours what happened."
At this moment the door was pushed open. A tall man of distinguished
appearance, still in the prime of life, and bearing a close
resemblance to Bob, entered the room. He glanced inquiringly at the
boys.
"Something gone wrong?" he asked. "What's the trouble?"
"Hello, Dad."
"Hello, Uncle George."
It was Mr. Temple, Bob's father and Frank's guardian, and there was
relief in the boys' voices as they greeted him. He always was so
capable in an emergency.
"Motored home at noon today," he said. "Guess I've got spring fever.
Anyhow, I couldn't stand it in the city. Della told me you were over
here and that you thought, perhaps, you would hear from the Hamptons
today." Della was Bob's younger sister, and the Temples' only other
child.
"We heard all right, Dad," said Bob gravely. Thereupon he proceeded to
relate what had occurred.
Mr. Temple listened in silence. His face showed he was disturbed. At
the conclusion of Bob's recital, he walked over to a headpiece and put
it on.
"No use, Uncle George," said Frank, but Mr. Temple turned to him with
a twinkle in his eye.
"That so?" he said.
With a cry, Frank leaped from his chair, seized a headpiece and put it
on.
"Hurray, it's Jack," he shouted. Then he bent over to the telephone
and called:
"Jack. Jack. Are you hurt? What happened?"
"Oh, I'm bunged up a little," came back Jack's voice, in a cheerful
tone. "But there are no bones broken."
"Was it the bandits?" demanded Bob, who had clamped on a third
headpiece, as he elbowed Frank aside to speak into the transmitter.
"Yes. Three of them," responded Jack. "A scouting party. They sneaked
in behind me. Thought I was alone, I guess, but when I hollered for
help Dad came in from the power house on the run and the pair of us
put them down for the count. We've got them tied up here now. The
microphone cord was snapped but I was able to make repairs. So I
started calling for you right away."
"Jack, this is Mr. Temple," cut in the older man at this point. "If
your father is there, please put him on the phone. I'd like to speak
to him."
"All right, Mr. Temple," answered Jack. "He's right here. Wait just a
minute."
Frank and Bob politely removed their headpieces and walked to a
bookcase, talking in low tones, as they leaned their elbows on the top
of it. This room, by the way, deserves a brief description.
It was circular and without windows. The walls were hung with a
material resembling burlap in appearance, but of special construction
and sound-proof. The ceiling was nine feet high. From a point six feet
up the walls material like that in the walls stretched to a point in
the middle of the ceiling. The room had somewhat the appearance of the
interior of a small circus tent. This construction was for the purpose
of increasing the acoustic properties.
While Mr. Temple conversed with Mr. Hampton, in whose oil operations
he naturally was interested, as he had invested a considerable sum in
them, the boys talked in whispers. They were frankly envious of Jack's
adventures and wishing that they, too, were on the ground. Suddenly,
something said by his father caught Bob's attention, and he stopped
talking to Frank and turned to listen.
"Well, I'll tell you, Hampton," Bob heard his father say, "I've got a
sharp attack of spring fever. I think I need a vacation. And if these
two youngsters of mine will let me go along, I'll come out with them."
Bob couldn't control his eagerness. Going up to his father's side, he
pulled insistently at his sleeve.
"Wait a minute, Hampton," said Mr. Temple. "Bob has something on his
mind." He removed the receiver and regarded his son with a twinkle.
"Out with it," he said. "I suppose that quite shamelessly you've been
listening to my conversation."
"No, Dad, Honest Injun," protested Bob. "Only I couldn't help
overhearing that part about you going with us. Say, Dad, we'll go by
airplane, won't we?"
Mr. Temple groaned in mock dismay. "Run along," he said. "You'll drive
me crazy with that airplane business." Then, once more adjusting his
headpiece, he resumed his interrupted conversation with Mr. Hampton.
Bob returned to Frank, wearing a wide grin. "I couldn't resist putting
over that piece of propaganda," he said.
"Do you think he'll let us fly?" whispered Frank.
"Say," answered Bob scornfully, "now that Dad has decided to go along,
it's a cinch. He's as crazy about flying as Mr. Hampton is about the
radiophone."
"Ssst. Ssst," came a warning whisper, interrupting them. They swung
about to face the door into the power house. It was part-way open and
the round good-natured face of Tom Barnum, filled now with anxiety,
was framed in the opening. Tom was the mechanic-watchman. He beckoned,
and the boys tiptoed across the room and into the power house, closing
the door behind them. Old Davey, caretaker at the Hampton home, stood
there, wringing his hands.
"What is it? What's the matter?" Frank Merrick asked sharply.
"Old Davey says there's a thief up at the house," said Tom.
"A thief?" said Bob. "How do you know?"
"Seed him myself with my own two eyes," quavered Old Davey, a little
old man who was a pensioner of Mr. Hampton's. "He's a big dark
ugly-lookin' feller. I seed him a-sneakin' into the house through the
cellar door I left open to git out some garden tools."
"Then what did you do?" asked Frank.
"I run," said Old Davey, simply. "Leastways I tried to, but my legs
ain't what they used to be."
"Come on, Bob," said Frank, impulsively. "Let's go see."
"Not till we tell Dad, first," said Bob, as always the cooler.
Re-entering the sending room, Bob once more gained the attention of
his father, who still was in conversation with Mr. Hampton. He told
him what Old Davey had reported. Mr. Temple readjusted the headpiece
and swung about to the transmitter.
"Anything in your house a fellow could carry off in a pocket,
Hampton?" he said. "Because the boys tell me there is a thief in it
right now, and we're going up to try to catch him."
"I don't think so," said Mr. Hampton, and then added in a tone of
alarm: "Great guns, Temple, yes. There is. There's a duplicate list
among my papers that the Octopus would give anything to obtain
possession of. It's a list of the lessees out here in the oil fields
who have joined the independents."
"All right, Hampton," said Mr. Temple, "we're off."
Removing the headpiece, he hurried Bob back into the power house.
There he ordered Tom to switch off the motor, lock up and follow them.
Then accompanied by the boys and with Old Davey trotting alongside to
keep up, he started in swift strides for the Hampton house, which
could be seen above the intervening tree tops, about a quarter of a
mile away.
"I thought you came out from town for a little peace and quiet, Dad,"
said Bob. "You're certainly getting it, aren't you? Hey. There he
goes." And with a shout, Bob started running swiftly toward the figure
of a man who had just emerged from the open cellar door at the rear of
the Hampton house.