ON THE BRINK
It is a hard matter to know, or even fear, that a faithful friend
has been unfaithful, particularly so when one is young and rather
unsophisticated. It is no small matter then to have one’s ideals
shattered.
And it was thus with Jerry and his chums when they read the advertisement
of the Universal Plaster Company, and saw the indorsement of Professor
Snodgrass, concerning the value of the yellow clay, which was given a
high-sounding medical name, based on the Latin term.
“Professor Snodgrass has betrayed us!” went on Jerry, still in a heat
of passion. “He knew all the while that the yellow clay was valuable,
and yet, when I asked him to analyze it, he said it was worthless. And
he knew there was a deposit of it on mother’s land.”
“Are you sure about that?” asked Ned slowly.
“Sure? Of course I am! Didn’t I tell him so when I showed him the clay?
I told him where it came from, and he said all the good he could see
in it was for filling. Now he goes and helps these fellows made a
medicine of it. He’s double-crossed us, I tell you!”
“It does look so,” admitted Bob, who was rather more likely than Ned to
agree with the more positive speaker--in this case Jerry Hopkins.
“My, what’s all the excitement about?” asked Mrs. Hopkins, coming into
the room at this juncture. “Has something gone wrong with your plans?”
For a moment no one spoke, and then Jerry said:
“Something has gone wrong, Mother, but not exactly with our plans. Look
here,” and he showed her the advertisement. She read it through without
remark. Over her shoulder Jerry saw some statements that had escaped
him at first.
These were to the effect that several cures of stubborn ailments had
been effected by the yellow clay, and the medicines with which it was
impregnated. The clay was of medicinal value in itself, it was claimed,
but it was rendered more efficacious by the introduction of other
chemicals.
Rheumatism, swellings, pains, aches and ailments of various sorts
yielded to its application, and the names of well-known medical men
bore out the claims of the Universal Plaster Company.
“And to think that the most of that clay was on your land, Mother, and
you have sold it!” cried Jerry, when she looked up from the paper.
“Well, it can’t be helped now, Jerry,” she answered, quietly. “What’s
done is done.”
“I’m not so sure about that!” cried Jerry, pacing up and down the room.
“I think Professor Snodgrass cheated us in not telling me the clay was
valuable.”
“Maybe he did not know it,” suggested Mrs. Hopkins. “I am sure the
professor would never do anything dishonorable.”
“Look at that!” demanded Jerry, pointing to the letter of the
scientist--a letter appearing over his own signature--in which the
claims for the clay were substantiated.
Mrs. Hopkins could not answer. Certainly it looked as though the
scientific friend of the boys had acted against their interests--or, at
least, against the interests of the Hopkins family.
“And just think, Mother!” cried Jerry, “if we owned that land now we
could sell the clay ourselves, and get back some of the fortune you
have lost.”
“It sure is tough luck,” remarked Ned.
“And that’s where the professor has been all this while--working in
with those fellows,” declared Bob. “He’s been helping them get this
clay ready for the market, and we thought he was after the two-tailed
lizards all the while. I wouldn’t have believed it of him!”
“Why do so?” asked Mrs. Hopkins gently. “Everyone is presumed to be
innocent until proven guilty. Why not give the professor a ‘show
for his white alley,’ as I often hear you boys say? Why condemn him
unheard? That isn’t fair!”
Jerry blushed.
“Well, maybe it isn’t, Mother,” he admitted, “but the facts are all
against him. Didn’t I give him a chance to tell us the clay was
valuable before we sold the land?”
“I know, but there may have been some mistake. Science is not always
accurate.”
“That’s so,” admitted Ned. “Lots of times the professor has been
mistaken when he tried to find a certain kind of bug where all the
books said it was sure to be. Why not give him another chance, Jerry?
Maybe this is all a fake,” and he pointed to the advertisement.
“It doesn’t look so,” returned the tall lad. “Still, it isn’t any fun
for me to believe the professor helped to swindle us. I’d a heap sight
rather find out it was all a mistake. And, as you say, I’m willing to
give him another chance. But how can we do it?”
“Follow up our original plan,” suggested Bob. “Go to his home and see
him. If he isn’t there, they may know where he is, and we can follow
him. That’s what I’m in favor of.”
“So am I!” cried Ned.
“That settles it!” exclaimed Jerry. “The majority rules. We’ll go find
the professor. But it’s a hard thing to believe him against us--a hard
thing.”
“Don’t believe it, dear,” suggested Mrs. Hopkins in her gentle voice.
“Just suspend judgment. I am sure it will all come out right.”
Jerry shook his head doubtfully.
“And, if it doesn’t,” went on his mother, “money isn’t everything in
this world. We shall live, even without the money we might have had
from the sale of this yellow clay, Jerry.”
“Oh, but I do hate to be cheated and fooled!” he answered. “Noddy Nixon
is laughing at us now, I believe.”
“Let him!” advised Ned. “He laughs best who has the last inning, you
know.”
“Well, maybe--yes. Anyhow, we’ve got our work cut out for us for some
time ahead.”
Jerry sat down to read the advertisement over again. There was little
to be extracted from it save to confirm the first impression. There
was told how the clay was accidentally discovered, and how, after much
experimenting, a medicinal use was found for it. Then the efforts of
the company to get control of all the available supply were detailed;
but nothing was said of the forceful efforts made to induce Mrs.
Hopkins to sign away her rights, of which she was in ignorance at the
time of making the deed.
“I suppose, legally, they are within their rights,” remarked Jerry,
“but, morally, they are not. But I’ll wait and see what the professor
says. It looks bad for him; but maybe, after all, he is innocent. He’s
a regular kid when it comes to some things, and those fellows may have
‘put one over on him’ without his knowing anything about it.”
“That’s the way to talk!” cried Ned. “I can’t believe the dear old
professor would go back on us.”
As their preparations were nearly completed, nothing more was done that
night. Jerry’s two chums would meet at his house the next morning, and
in the auto would make the journey to the home of the professor, in the
vicinity of Boston.
“When will you be back?” asked Mrs. Hopkins, as the motor boys started
away in their powerful machine.
“No telling, Mother,” answered Jerry, blowing her a kiss. Then he
slipped in the gear lever, let the clutch engage, and they were off.
The weather was fine, the roads good and the boys had nothing at
present before them but the trip to the professor’s house. They
expected to reach it early that afternoon.
But they counted without accidents. It seemed that Fate had it “in for
them.”
Engine trouble developed before they had gone thirty miles, and as they
were near no garage they attempted to locate the difficulty themselves,
as they had often done. The mischief seemed to be in the carbureter,
and it took an hour to remedy it.
“Whew! Some work!” cried Bob, for they had to labor over the engine in
a hot sun. “Let’s pull up in the shade and eat!” suggested the stout
lad, for they had brought along a liberal luncheon.
“A little of that ice-cold lemonade from the vacuum bottle!” sighed
Ned. “It is some warm!”
Jerry smiled indulgently, and, a little later the boys were seated in
the auto, beneath the shade of a big maple, enjoying a well-earned rest.
But this was not the end of their troubles, for first one tire, and
then another, blew out, necessitating the use of two spare shoes they
carried, so that when they had finally passed through Boston, and were
on the road to the town where the professor lived, it was getting dusk.
“We’ll have to stay all night,” commented Jerry, as he switched on
the electric lights, and peered at the road ahead. It was not the
best highway they had encountered, either, being uphill, and in poor
condition.
“Looks like a shower,” commented Bob.
It grew rapidly darker, due to the fast-gathering clouds, and a few
drops of rain fell.
“We’re in for it,” cried Ned. “Better get the top up, Jerry, old man.”
“All right. Just as soon as we get around the turn in the road.”
The lights of the car showed a bend just ahead of them. It was a road
the boys had never traveled before and Jerry was taking no chances.
Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a sharp clap of
thunder, startled the boys. At the same moment every electric light in
the car went out.
Whether the sudden darkness, following the vivid flash, confused
Jerry, or whether, involuntarily, he twisted the steering wheel, was
not made certain. But, an instant later the big car gave a lurch,
and in the light of the next flash the boys saw, with horror, that
they were headed for the edge of the road, where a frail wooden rail
alone separated the highway from a sheer descent. The car poised for
an instant, the front wheels on the very brink, while, all about the
thunder crashed, the lightning blinded them, and the rain came down in
torrents.