JERRY GETS A RIDE
Jerry had awakened about eight o’clock, scribbled his brief note, and
crept from the hut in the woods without disturbing any of his sleeping
companions. His mind was made up. Burk had said that Wallistown was not
far away, and there he could certainly purchase the food they needed so
badly. Since they were forced to hide here until nightfall, his brief
desertion would not hold up their march. And he knew they would be
hungry. He was hungry already. The keen, fresh morning air whipped up
his appetite as he hiked steadily down the trail. Birds were flashing
through the dewy thickets about him, caroling their morning-songs; not a
cloud hung in the sky.
He came to an old moss-covered stone fence, crossed over, and found
himself in a lane, lined with tall elder bushes, with dark rich clusters
of small berries hanging among the leaves. A rich find! He filled his
mouth with the bitter-tasting fruit, which stained his hands a deep
purple as he ate.
Feeling refreshed by this woodsy breakfast, he decided to follow the
lane. It led him half a mile, coming out at a white frame farmhouse
where a woman was washing clothes in the yard. She looked up as he
passed and watched him strangely, but said nothing, and he walked on to
the road beyond. This was a dirt-covered highway which evidently led in
the direction he wished to take. He swung along steadily through rich
farm-lands and pastures where cattle grazed. A hay-wagon driven by a man
in a large straw hat passed him; he did not look up, but had a feeling
that the driver was watching him steadily. The road twisted and curved
until Jerry had to get his bearings from the mountains before he was
sure he was on the right track. Two miles farther, he came to a signpost
that informed him that Wallis Springs lay to his left, while Wallistown
was still seven miles away. This hike was farther than he had supposed;
he might not be able to return to his comrades for some hours yet.
Nevertheless, he knew that Wallis Springs was nothing more than a little
group of summer cottages where he might not be able to purchase any
food; he must push on to Wallistown, at the foot of the lake. He swung
off down the curving road.
The sun was now high overhead; he was hot, dusty, and a trifle tired. He
took off his mackinaw and slung it over his arm, wishing he had left it
behind. Now and then he could see to his left the fringe of trees that
bordered the big lake, and could make out the roofs of little cabins
occupied by people who were summering on its shores. The road twisted in
and out, following the wavy outline of the lake’s bank; no matter how
fast he tried to walk, Wallistown seemed to be as far away as ever. He
begged a glass of water from a friendly, red-faced woman who answered
his knock at a little cottage beside the road, and went on. Several
automobiles passed him, driving toward town, but none of their occupants
offered to stop and give him a lift, and he did not dare ask for a ride.
People who picked you up, he had found, were often very curious about
where you were going and why; they asked too many questions, and he was
in no frame of mind to undergo any cross-examinations this morning. It
was almost eleven o’clock when he halted to rest beside a bridge that
spanned a little stream which wandered toward the lake.
A whirring drone sounded above him; a cross-shaped shadow skimmed across
a field by the road. An airplane hummed overhead, flying low, almost
hitting the tree tops. Jerry wondered idly why the pilot took a chance
of crashing by flying so close to the ground. The plane circled and
swung off toward the mountains, and Jerry dismissed it from his mind. If
he had known that this airplane was combing the country for traces of
Burk and the missing boys, he might not have dismissed it so easily.
He rose and plodded ahead down the dusty road. Wallistown was in sight
now. He could see the group of two-story buildings that marked its main
street, leading from the wharf where a number of canoes, rowboats, and
small motor launches were tied up. It was getting late; he decided to
keep as far as possible from the center of town, where he might be
observed. There was no use taking any chances, and he must start right
back, to have time to carry the food he would purchase back over the
long miles that now separated him from his friends in the mountains.
At one side of the wharf was a line of low buildings. Jerry left the
road and followed a wooden sidewalk along the bank of the lake, and made
out, on the front of the largest of these buildings, a sign that
proclaimed it to be a grocery and “general store.” This was as close to
the town as he wished to go. The sight of so many strange faces—people
who probably had never even heard of Camp Lenape—frightened him a
little. If he hadn’t come so far, and hadn’t known that his brother and
the rest were depending on him to bring them some grub, he might have
turned back right there. As it was, he quickened his pace and entered
the shadow of the store.
The interior of the place was gloomy, after the sunlight outside, and
was filled with a thousand different odors, chief among them being those
of stale candy and dried fish. An old man was lounging in a chair which
leaned back against the counter; he moved his head lazily to look at
this customer.
“What’ll ye have, bud?”
“A couple cans of beans, and some other stuff—I don’t know just what.”
“Wal, look around and pick ’em out. Guess we got what ye want,” the man
answered, and leaned back again with his arms behind his head.
Jerry poked about among the shelves in the back of the store. They
wouldn’t have much chance to cook; better to take things that would
carry easily, and that they could eat cold—bread and cheese and
chocolate——
The old man Slammed the four legs of his chair to the floor with a bang,
as someone entered hurriedly through the door.
“You got my order ready, Mr. Clay?”
“Hullo, Rufe. Say, did ye find that canoe of yourn?”
The newcomer was breathing heavily. Jerry darted a glance at him. He saw
a stringy youth with a pimpled face, garbed in a jersey and dingy white
flannels, whose voice now took on a tone of injury.
“Yeah, we found it floatin’ down by the outlet. They must have landed in
some hurry; Talk about nerve! I was choppin’ some wood up by our place
above the Springs. These two come burstin’ out of the woods, runnin’
like blazes, and got away with the canoe before I even had time to yell.
I run along shore about half a mile, but they had started across, and I
couldn’t do a thing. Pretty soon along comes a man on a horse, gallopin’
along like mad. He asks me if I’ve seen this pair—he’s a deputy sheriff,
he says. You could have knocked me over with a feather when he tells me
that one of the guys who stole the canoe was this convict that’s been
missin’ from the Pen at Elmville!”
“Ye don’t say! Wal, did he catch ’em?”
“No, not yet. They got ashore by the outlet, like I told you. They’re
still loose around here somewheres; this sheriff feller says he hunted
’em with dogs, and got one, but these two got clean away.”
Jerry was frozen in his place, one hand still gripping a can of corned
beef. It couldn’t be true! Hunted with dogs! And one of them captured!
“They’ll get ’em,” said the old storekeeper with grim satisfaction;
“ye’ll see, Rufe, them fellers won’t get far. That there airyoplane they
got flyin’ around is like to spot ’em if they try to break across
country.”
“I hope they do get caught,” said the youth vengefully. “Stealin’ my
canoe! Jimmy from the newspaper office was just tellin’ me this convict
feller had got some kids from a camp up the line to help him get away
last night. Must have been one of ’em I saw with this man——”
“What did the boy look like?” Jerry blurted out, and instantly wished he
had bitten out his tongue rather than speak those words. His concern for
his brother had made him forget how perilous was his own position.
The youth in flannels turned upon him slowly. “Well, if it’s any of your
affair, Mr. Butt-In, he was——” The speaker gasped, and surveyed Jerry
from head to toe. “Why—why—from what I saw of him, he looked just like
you!”
The old man cackled with laughter. “Guess that’ll fix ’im, eh, Rufe?
Pretty fast answer, that!”
“But, I mean he—he really does look like him! I only caught a glimpse of
this kid when he was runnin’ to the canoe, but I could swear——”
The storekeeper’s chuckles broke off. “Don’t mean to say ye think this
young feller is a des-prit criminal, do ye, Rufe? Why, this feller come
in just as cool as a cucumber—wanted some beans, he says.”
Jerry thought rapidly. “Well, I don’t want any now!” he said boldly.
“You can keep your old stuff. I don’t want to listen to all your talk,
after this!” He started with determination for the door.
“Half a minute!” The youth called Rufe barred his way. “Maybe you
weren’t the same feller that took my canoe, but you act kind of funny to
me. Maybe you know somethin’ about all this.”
Jerry did not pause. “You’re crazy! Just try to stop me!” His heart was
in his mouth, but he tried to look unconcerned, and pushed his way
ahead. The other looked as if he would hold him by force; but evidently
thinking better of it, he stepped aside, and Jerry passed out into the
street.
His whole body was quivering at the suddenness of this encounter.
Sherlock caught—Jake and Burk escaping in a canoe from a mounted rider
who had tracked them! Why, he had left them sleeping miles away only a
few hours ago! And now—they must be near him, in danger, expecting any
moment to be taken!
Briskly, he crossed the street, and walked hastily down toward the
business section of town, taking no notice of the groups of people who
passed him. Was the game up so soon? Rufe hadn’t looked very convinced——
Jerry glanced guiltily over his shoulder. Down the street by a garage he
caught sight of a pair of flanneled legs in warm pursuit. He was being
followed!
He turned the first corner he came to, leading into a narrow street, and
broke into a heated run. How far could he get before the youth behind
him saw his flight, and raised a hue and cry? Gritting his teeth, Jerry
plunged down the street. It was only two blocks long, and ended in a
high board fence. There was no way out; he was in a blind alley. Out of
the tail of his eye he caught sight of his pursuer, who had turned the
corner and was now in full cry after him, shouting something Jerry could
not make out. There was only one thing to do. Jerry leaped at the fence,
caught his hands in the rough top, and swung over. With smarting palms,
he landed in a heap on the other side. There was no time to waste. He
sprang up, and found himself in a little field full of daisies. Ahead
lay a line of telegraph wires, strung on poles fringing a shining
asphalt road. It must be the state highway! If he could only get to the
road before the youth behind him could manage to get over the fence——!
His breath was coming in painful, dry sobs; he couldn’t last much
longer——
Dimly he made out a car coming up the road from north, approaching him.
He waved an arm at it, and shouted, although he knew the driver could
not hear him. He was now half-way across the field; behind him came a
cry of rage as Rufe clambered to the top of the fence—— Jerry’s eyes lit
up as he saw the car on the highway slow down, come to a halt not a
hundred yards away. He would make it yet! He waved his arm at the man in
the driver’s seat.
“Give me a ride?”
He had to fight to get out the words. It was his last chance! To his
joy, the driver nodded, swung open the rear door of the big car.
“Hop in!” came a man’s jovial voice from the back seat. Rufe was still
coming, but he was no runner, and the fence-climbing had winded him.
There was still time—— Jerry Utway almost fell into the back of the car,
sprawling across a pair of outstretched legs. The driver slammed the
door; the car, whose engine had not stopped, responded to the clutch and
slipped forward with a roar. Jerry pulled himself together and fell
backward into a seat, panting out his thanks. He looked up into the
round, jolly face of the man on his left who had told him to hop in. He
was wedged between this man and another, in the rear of the car. He
turned his head back; through the window he could see the baffled figure
of Rufe, shaking his fist at the rapidly-moving automobile. Jerry
grinned.
He suddenly realized that he had left his mackinaw somewhere—probably
back in the grocery store, when he had walked out so hastily. Well, he
could get it back some time, later—— Just now he had a headache, and
things looked a little blurred.
A voice rumbled at his side—his right side. It was the man whose face he
had not yet seen. “You were in quite a bit of a hurry back there,
weren’t you?” it drawled. “Well, you needn’t worry. You can rest
now—rest a long, long time. I thought you’d turn up again, twin, but I
didn’t expect it so soon!”
Jerry knew that voice. He knew the man, too, even before he looked into
his face. With a cry, Jerry sank back into the seat of the speeding car.
It was Diker! Diker, the prison guard! The man in blue, whom he had last
seen at the campfire on Pebble Beach! And Diker’s arm was locked about
his own, in a firm, threatening grip!