SETTING THE TRAP
"Three weeks have gone by since we had that first meeting, Tom; just
think of it."
Carl was walking along the river road with his chum when he made this
remark. They had seen the last of the snow vanish, and with the coming
of milder days all the boys began to talk of going fishing before long.
Perhaps this saunter of the pair after school may have had something to
do with the first contemplated outing of the season, and they wanted to
see whether the fish had commenced to come from their winter quarters,
though the law would not be off for trout yet awhile.
"That's a fact, Carl," replied the other boy; "and at our very next
meeting most of the members of the patrol are going to get their badges
as second-class scouts, because they've already qualified for it to the
satisfaction of Mr. Witherspoon."
"Honest to goodness I believe there'll be only one tenderfoot left in
the lot," Carl continued; "and that of course is our dude, Horace. He
managed to exert himself just enough to fulfill the requirements a
tenderfoot has to possess, but there he sticks."
"Wait a while longer," Tom told him, "and one of these fine days you
may see Horace wake up. I haven't lost hopes of him by a long shot. At
our next meeting, after we've passed up, the first thing we have to do
is to elect a patrol leader."
Carl laughed softly.
"Oh that's all cut and dried, already," he asserted.
"Well, if it is no one has said anything to me about it," objected Tom,
at which the other laughed again.
"Why should they bother when it was seven against one, Tom?" argued
Carl. "Why, the boys wouldn't dream of having any other leader than
you!"
"But that doesn't seem quite fair, it ought to be talked over openly.
Why pick me out above every one else for that?"
"Because you've always been a leader among your schoolmates, Tom,
that's why!" he was quickly, told. "You've got it in you to take the
lead in every kind of sport known to boys. Baseball, football, hockey,
athletics--tell me a single thing where you've had to play second
fiddle to any other fellow. And it isn't because you want to push
yourself either, but because you can go ahead."
"Well," said Tom, slowly and musingly, "it's mighty nice to know that
the other boys like you, and if the fellows are bound to make me take
the office of patrol leader I suppose I'll have to accept it."
"No one so well able to do the work as you are, Tom. But this has been
a terribly long three weeks to me, I tell you."
"Now you're thinking that we haven't made a bit of progress about
finding that stolen paper," suggested Tom, looking a little
crest-fallen. "Both of us have tried from time to time to watch Dock
after nights, but somehow we haven't had much success up to now."
"No," added Carl, with one of his heavy sighs, "if he has that paper
hidden somewhere he's smart enough to keep away from his cache, so far
as we've been able to find out."
"I don't believe he's come to any settlement with Amasa Culpepper as
yet," Tom observed, with considerable positiveness.
"We think that, but we don't know for sure," ventured the less
confident Carl. "If only I could glimpse the paper I'd have a big load
lifted from my mind. And it cuts me to the quick to see poor mother
trying to look cheerful when I come indoors, though I've noticed signs
of tears on her cheeks several times."
"I've been thinking of some sort of scheme," began Tom, slowly.
"Good for you!" burst out Carl, delightedly. "Tell me what it is then;
and can we start in to try it right away?"
"That depends on several conditions," explained the other. "First of
all do you remember what that receipt made out by Mr. Culpepper looked
like, Carl?"
"Do I? Why, it seems to me it must have been burned on my memory as
though you'd take a red hot poker and make marks on the clean kitchen
floor. When I shut my eyes nights and try to go to sleep it keeps
dancing in front of me. Before I know what I'm doing I find myself
grabbing out for it, and then I want to kick myself for being so
foolish, when I know it's all just a silly bit of imagination."
"I'm glad you remember so well how it looked," remarked Tom, somewhat
to the mystification of his companion.
"What has that got to do with your scheme?" he demanded, in perplexity.
"A whole lot," came the swift answer; "because I want you to get me up
as close a copy of that receipt as you possibly can!"
"Whew! do you mean even to signing Mr. Culpepper's name at the end?"
asked Carl, whose breath had very nearly been taken away.
"Yes, even to that," he was told; "in fact the paper wouldn't be worth
a pinch of salt in my little game if that signature were omitted. Do
you think you could duplicate the receipt, Carl?"
"I am sure I could; but even now I'm groping in the dark, because for
the life of me I can't see what you expect to do with it, Tom."
"Don't forget to crease it, to make it look as though it had been
folded and opened ever so many times; yes, and soil the outside a
little too, as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket along with a
lot of other things like marbles or a top or something like that."
"But please explain what all this means," Carl pleaded.
"Listen!" replied the other, impressively, "and I'll tell you what my
game is. It may work, and it may fall flat; a whole lot depends on
circumstances, but there's no harm trying it out."
"Of course not; go on and tell me."
"In watching Dock when he didn't know it, we've learned considerable
about his habits," continued Tom. "For one thing every single night he
walks home along the river road here after delivering a package or two
at certain houses. It seems to be a part of the programme. Well, some
fine night we'll lie in wait for him about this spot; and on the road
will be that duplicate of the paper which we believe he stole."
At that Carl became quite excited.
"Oh! now I see what your game it!" he cried; "and let me tell you I
think it's as clever a trick as could be thought of. He'll pick up the
paper, thinking it may be something worth while; and when he sees that
it is the very receipt he thinks he has got safely hidden away
somewhere, Dock will be so rattled that the first thing he does will be
to hurry to find out whether it's been taken or not."
"That's the idea, Carl; and of course we'll follow him, so as to jump
in the very minute he gets out the real document to compare them."
"Fine! fine, Tom! You are certainly the crackerjack when it comes to
laying a trap to trip a scamp up. Why, he'll fall into that pit head
over heels; and I do hope we can snatch the paper away from him before
he has a chance to tear it up."
"We'll look out for that all right, you can depend on it," came the
reassuring remark from the other scout. "When will you get busy on that
copy, Carl?"
"To-night, after the kids are in bed," Carl hastened to reply; "I
wouldn't care to have them see what I was doing, though in this case I
firmly believe it's all right."
"And if your mother wants to know, tell her," said Tom.
"I'd have to do that anyway," said Carl, without the least confusion or
hesitation; "I always tell my mother everything that happens. She takes
an interest in all my plans, and she's the dearest little mother a boy
ever had. But she'll understand that it's only meant to be a trick to
catch the thief."
"Then if you have it ready by to-morrow afternoon we might try how it
works that same evening," Tom remarked.
"I wish the time was now, I'm getting so anxious to do something,"
sighed the second boy, as he again remembered how he had seen his
mother force herself to appear cheerful when he came from school,
though there were traces of tears on her cheeks, and her eyes looked
red.
Soon after that the chums separated, as the afternoon was drawing near
a close.
"I wish you luck with your work to-night, Carl," was what Tom called
out in parting; "and if any one wants to know where we've been, be sure
and tell them that so far as we've been able to find out the fishing
promises to be mighty fine this spring, better than for years, if signs
go for anything."
On the following day at noon when they walked home for lunch Carl
showed his chum the paper. It had been carefully done, and even bore
the marks of service in the way of numerous creases, and some soiled
spots in the bargain.
Tom was loud in his praise.
"It certainly looks as if it had been carried in a boy's pocket for
some time," he declared; "and it's up to you to say how close a copy
the contents are to the original."
"I'm sure Amasa Culpepper would say it was his own crabbed handwriting
to a fraction," Carl had no hesitation in asserting. "And so far as
that goes Dock Phillips isn't capable of discovering any slight
difference. If he ever picks this up you mark my words, Tom, he's going
to get the biggest shock he's felt in many a day."
"And you can see how the very first thing he'd be apt to do would be to
look around to see if anybody was spying on him, and then hurry away to
find if his paper could have been taken from the place where he hid
it."
"Oh! I hope, Tom, he doesn't just step over it, and never bother to
pick it up."
"We've got to take our chance of that happening," he was told; "but we
know how nearly every boy would act. Besides, scraps of paper have
begun to seem worth something in Dock's eyes lately. The chances are
three to one he'll get it."
"Well, I'll meet you at just seven o'clock to-night at the old smithy,
and we'll lay the trap when we hear his whistle up the road. Dock
always whistles when he's out after dark. I think it must help him keep
his courage up."
The church bells had just started to ring seven when the two boys came
close to the old blacksmith shop that had been deserted when Mr.
Siebert moved to a better location.
They had chosen this spot because it was rather lonely, and there did
not seem to be very much chance of their little game being interrupted
by any other pedestrian coming along just at the critical time.
On one side of the road lay the bushes, in the midst of which the boys
expected to hide; on the other could be seen the river.
All was quiet around them as the minutes passed away.
"There, that's his whistle, Tom!" whispered Carl, suddenly.
Thereupon the other scout crept swiftly out upon the road, and placed
the folded paper where it could hardly help being seen by any one with
ordinary eyesight. He had just returned to the bushes when a figure
came hurrying around the bend, whistling vigorously as some boys are in
the habit of doing. Carl's heart seemed almost to stop beating when he
saw Dock suddenly halt and bend over.