MIDNIGHT
"Well, how are you goin' to find Mr. Lovell among about five thousand
people?" asked Jack Conroy. "Say somethin', Timmy."
"Let's hunt up the steamboat landing," suggested Tim. "Don't believe
many people got off the boat, and everybody 'ud notice a stranger. If
Uncle Stanley intended going to a hotel, maybe he asked directions, an'
one of the natives still lazying on the string-piece heard him."
"How do you know one's lazying there?" asked Tom.
"There always is, son; it's a universal custom. Where's the steamboat
landing, boy?"
An urchin, holding a fishing pole in one hand, and staring open-mouthed
at the crowd, pointed along the wharves.
"'Tain't more'n ten minutes' walk," he answered. "Want me to help
carry yer stuff? Sure ye do."
Hearing his words, four other boys dashed over, and the owner of the
fishing pole was unceremoniously pushed aside.
Bob laughingly settled the loud wrangle which began.
"Each one of you chaps grab something," he commanded. "Come on,
fellows."
Armed with their guns, the seven walked briskly to the street, a wide
thoroughfare running along the water-front, with low buildings and an
occasional sleepy-looking warehouse.
There were but few people about. A goat, defiantly tossing its head,
blocked the way, so the boys laughingly walked around it.
Soon the street rose steeply, winding close to the edge of a hill,
where they stopped a moment to look at the waves breaking against
its base. A hundred yards further along, a picturesque wooden bridge
spanned a small stream which came into view from behind a mass of
tumble-down shacks.
Then they reached a level stretch bordered on both sides by tall trees.
A long pier with a glaring white sign indicating its use was soon
after sighted.
"By Jove, if he isn't actually there, Tim!" cried Jack, with a chuckle.
"Who--who--Uncle Stanley?" exclaimed Tim.
"No; the lazy chap I spoke about. And there's another one, besides."
"Then let's interview the two who typify the universal custom," laughed
Dave.
In a few moments the seven, with Jack Conroy in the lead, walked out on
the wharf, and approached a small, grizzly-faced man who sat near the
far end, dangling his feet over the edge.
His eyes ran over them curiously, but he did not change his position.
"Afternoon!" remarked Jack, pleasantly. "How do you do, sir? Takin' it
easy, eh?"
"Middlin'; can't say no more," answered the old man, with a drawl. "I
ain't got nuthin' to do, an' hev plenty o' time to do it in."
"Better'n bein' rushed about it," grinned Jack. "Say, were you here
when the boat came in?"
"I reckon!"
"Did you see a gentleman with a brown beard and wearing spectacles get
off?"
The old man appeared to meditate.
"Did I see a gentleman with a brown beard, an' wearin' specs git off?"
he repeated, slowly.
"How about it?" asked Tim, eagerly. "Did you?"
"No; I calc'late as how I didn't. Why?"
"Oh, ginger! We just wanted to know."
"That's what most people asks questions fur; an' allus they wants
sumphin fur nothin'. Whar d'ye come from, hey?"
"From the place we last stopped," laughed Jack. He fished out a dime
from his pocket. "Would you mind accepting this?"
"Never declined nothin' in me life; an' I ain't young nuff ter begin
now," grumbled the old chap, extending his hand. "Thank'ee. Ask Luke
Jarrett over thar. Everybody looks alike to me ten feet away."
Luke Jarrett admitted having watched a brown-bearded man wearing
glasses until he disappeared down the road. "An' he was a-walkin' like
all creation," he confided.
"In the direction o' Wild Oak?" asked Jack, eagerly.
"Ye hit it right. No, I didn't hear 'im ask no questions o' nobody; he
jest lit out."
"Which means," said Bob, "that we'll have to light out, too. How far is
it--about five miles, eh?"
Dave groaned, while Jack protested vigorously.
"Five miles! Great Scott! An' with all our stuff! Let's find a rig."
"Get out," sniffed Dick. "We can hire Luke and the biggest of these
boys; how about it, Bob?"
Bob's eyes lighted up quizzically.
"If we can't stand five miles on a nice, smooth road, fellows--why--"
"It would look mighty bad for us ever reaching that Jabberwock," said
Dave, very softly. He smiled. "Anyway, we've proved that universal
customs are sometimes good things."
A bargain was quickly made with Luke and two of the boys; then,
flinging a good-bye to the old chap on the string-piece, the crowd
started off.
It was just the kind of weather for walking. The cool, brisk air sent
the blood tingling through their veins. The road fell steadily behind,
and within a quarter of an hour houses were passed only at intervals.
Upon looking back from a height, they saw Rawdon spread out, a confused
mass of grayish buildings climbing up and down gentle slopes, while
beyond lay farmhouses and rugged hills. Range after range extended off,
until the gloomy gray sky seemed to creep down and shut them from view.
The road soon left the Columbia River, keeping so far inland that it
disappeared entirely.
"Wouldn't it be fine if we should meet Uncle Stanley on the way?"
remarked Tim; "eh, Bob?"
"It might not be so fine for the Jabberwock," answered Bob, with a grim
smile. "Unless," he added, a sudden thought having come to him, "your
uncle's changed his mind, Tim, and intends going with us."
"Ginger; I wonder if that can be!" murmured Tim. "Say, Bobby--I wonder!"
One by one the chipped and dingy milestones were passed, and by late
afternoon Wild Oak came into view. All heaved a great sigh of relief.
"I couldn't have stood it for another twenty-four hours," grinned Dick.
"Who'd want to live in a hilly place like this, eh, Sam?"
The way led down the side of a steep slope, and rose again, looming up
grimly in shadow, on the opposite side. Between great oak trees which
lined the road glimpses of houses and whitewashed fences were seen;
and, presently, Tom exclaimed:
"Hello, there's that building with a tower; what is it, Luke?"
"Wild Oak Hotel," answered Jarrett.
"Is there any other?"
"Nope!"
"Let's steer for it," advised Bob; "most likely Mr. Lovell went
straight there."
"'Twon't do ye a bit o' good," said Luke; "it ain't open now; only
ketches visitors as is daffy enough to come hyar durin' the summer."
"Oh!" cried Tim, disappointedly.
"The feller as owns it is Phil Irwin, a ranchman; has a cattle ranch
over to Marlin Springs, seven mile from 'ere; owns lots o' hosses, too.
They calls 'im 'Cattle King Irwin.'"
"Good!" cried Bob, in a tone which instantly caused the other boys to
stare toward him.
"Good?" murmured Dick. "Why? I can't quite catch the point."
"Oh, it isn't a sticker," laughed Bob. "A ranchman, ranch-house and
horses! Catch on?"
"The idea has lodged within," exclaimed Tim, tapping his forehead.
"Bully for you, Bob. Only hope the cattle king'll spare us about nine
good mustangs."
Another fifteen minutes took them down by the shore, along the main
street of Wild Oak. Several roads branched off from this, all lined
with small houses and stores.
The crowd, with their retinue of baggage-carriers, immediately created
an enormous sensation. Children, a scattering of men, besides numerous
feminine members of the population, viewed them with absorbing
interest.
Jack Conroy, cool as usual and grinning broadly, began to ask questions
right and left. Had any one seen a brown-bearded gentleman wearing
spectacles?
Several had.
"He was walkin' up an' down this here street fur a spell," volunteered
a tall lad.
"No; didn't see where he got to. Hev ye tried the mill?"
"I'll go over and find out," said Tim.
"The rest of us had better divide up into parties, and do a bit of
scouting," suggested Bob.
This idea was applauded.
"Go ahead, boys," urged Dave, laughingly. He sprawled down on a bit of
turf. "If Mr. Lovell comes this way I won't let him get by."
"Goodness, what tremendous energy!" snickered Jack.
Luke Jarrett and the two boys agreed to lend their assistance, and
within a few minutes the stout boy was left alone to guard their stuff
and keep a lookout for the lumberman.
He had not been settled in a comfortable position very long before he
saw Sam Randall and Dick Travers pushing toward him on a loping trot.
"I say, Dave," almost yelled the latter, in a state of great
excitement, "Mr. Lovell hired a rig and went back to Rawdon; some man
saw him. Gee! Wish those other chaps would come up. Just think of
having to hoof it all the way back there to-night."
"That's all I'm going to do--think about it," said Dave, decidedly.
"But--but--"
"No force could possibly budge me."
The others finally came up, and listened gloomily.
"There isn't a particle o' use in the whole crowd going," argued Tim;
"let's draw lots."
"All right," agreed Bob.
A few minutes later six were howling with merriment, while Tommy
Clifton, highly indignant, held a paper which had written upon it the
word "stung."
"Tommy's scared," grinned Jack.
"Scared nothing!" snapped Tom, hotly. "I'll show you if I'm scared."
Bob leaned over and whispered in the stout boy's ear:
"I'll go with him, Dave. Mind? Not a bit of it."
Tommy was scowling suspiciously.
"Quit your kidding, Bob," he said. "Come on, Luke, and you chaps.
Humph--scared! Jacky might be, but I'm not; no siree! What! you're
coming along? Gee!" A smile of keen satisfaction lighted his eyes, but
Tommy's voice was still grumbling as he added: "Huh, but you fellows do
sometimes make me tired."
After arranging where to meet, Bob Somers and Clifton began trudging
off, with the others straggling in the rear. The crowd watched them
until their figures had disappeared around a curve.
Sam Randall declared that there was nothing very pleasant in the
prospect of loafing about Wild Oak for goodness knows how many hours,
and all but Dave agreed.
Nothing could induce the latter to budge from a comfortable position;
he treated threats, scorn and persuasion with equal indifference,
smiling broadly all the time. And so they lingered until dusk began to
settle down; then the five picked up their luggage, and, with many
sighs and groans under its weight, sauntered down in the direction of
the lumber-yard and sawmill.
It was a dingy, dark locality by the board fence, with piles of lumber
towering high above. Pools had collected in the street; heaps of refuse
lay about. So the crowd hurried along at a good clip. They walked out
on the sawmill wharf to look at the Columbia, still tossing angrily,
while dark, stormy clouds scudded before the wind.
"Seems that the universal custom is not in force here," remarked Dave,
dryly.
"Oh, it's only because it's too near a place where people have to
work," said Tim. "Let's skip."
The lamplighter was leaving a trail of feeble, glimmering spots to mark
his progress; lights began to sparkle from cottage windows; starlike
points, seemingly poised in space, suddenly started up on the hills. It
was all very dark and dreary; and voices which they occasionally heard
had a strange, uncanny sound.
Jack Conroy began to have uncomfortable thoughts of moonless nights in
the mountain wilderness, with, perhaps, wild animals prowling about,
or high precipices, unseen in the blackness, close to their camp.
"If finding that Jabberwock is as hard as finding supper in Wild Oak,
we're going to have a tough time," grumbled Dick, softly. "Don't people
have to eat out here, I wonder?"
"An' some o' these natives may hear a few wild croaks if we don't get
it mighty soon," laughed Tim. "Hadn't we better yell for help?"
But the difficulty was at length solved by a passer-by, who directed
them to a very hilly street where they found the Wild Oak Restaurant, a
little frame building surrounded by a group of stately trees.
With sighs of thankfulness, they entered; each threw his load in a
corner, while the astonished and agitated proprietor, who would have
bravely faced a band of outlaws, stood nervously wondering whether
their guns were loaded and might be accidentally discharged.
Of course they ordered the best in the house, and managed to spend
a wonderful amount of time over each dish that was set before them.
It was the only known occasion when a piece of pie remained on Dave
Brandon's plate for more than one minute and thirty seconds.
An anxious expression settled over the proprietor's face, and finally
he approached, smiling discreetly.
"I--er--er--I generally close up 'bout nine o'clock," he began,
hesitatingly, "an'--"
"There isn't much chance o' your doin' it to-night, old chap," grinned
Jack Conroy, calmly.
"Eh?" said the man, looking bewildered.
The big boy quickly explained, and then Dave, with eyes blinking, spoke
up:
"If you have any extra mattresses and a lot of straw you might be able
to put us up for the night."
"Ha, ha! Nice way o' puttin' it! Ye kin hev a room, sure," answered the
man, promptly, "an' some o' them blankets you've toted with yer ought
to take the hardness out o' the floor. I'll keep open as late as ye
like; but day prices don't go at night--understan'? I can't afford to
lose nothing."
"You won't," assured Jack.
A bargain was finally struck, and the boys, with minds at ease, settled
back contentedly. The hours slipped by with provoking slowness;
conversation lagged; Dave fell asleep, while the others yawned and
stretched.
Finally a dingy old clock on the dingiest of old mantelpieces rang out
in quavering strokes the hour of eleven.
"Can't stand this any more, fellows," exclaimed Dick, drowsily. "Who
wants to take a spin--you, Jack? Well, come ahead. I say, Dave--Dave!"
"Lemme be," mumbled the stout boy. And Dick, who had leaned over to
tickle him with a straw, found his wrists seized in a vise-like grip.
"Don't bother," laughed Dave; "I'm coming."
The proprietor opened the door to let them out.
A shaft of light fell across the street, and lighted up in ghostlike
patches the old rugged oak whose branches almost swept against the
corner of the house. In the silence of the night, their footsteps
clattered noisily, as they began to trudge down a steep slope.
From one street into another the boys turned, each seeming more dismal
than the last. Here and there oil lamps threw weird-shaped lights over
gray stuccoed walls, and fantastic shadows trailed across, to lose all
outlines in shapeless patches of dark.
At the base of a hill, a lonely lamp shot its rays upon a wooden
bridge, and disclosed high banks upon its borders, while a fresh
rippling gurgle told of a stream rushing swiftly over a rocky bed.
The strong odor of weeds and moisture-laden air came up from the dark
depths into which they peered.
"Ugh!" shivered Jack. "Spookish, eh? Worse'n bein' right out in the
woods."
"It's something to stir the imagination, fellows," yawned Dave,
sleepily.
"And send cold chills down one's spine, too," said Sam. "Listen--was
that anything? Bob's going to signal, you know."
"Nothin' but a dog barkin'," answered Jack, presently.
"And Bob's voice never sounded anything like that," chuckled Dick.
"Feels like the edge of the world here; Hobgoblinville. Are those
buildings or trees back there?"
"Suit yourself," said Dave. He drew from his pocket a huge note-book,
and, leaning against the rail, began to write.
"Another inspiration," chirped Sam.
"Those illusive words!" sighed the stout boy. "I can feel the whole
thing--but how to grasp it!" He hastily dashed off several lines.
"Anyway, the idea is there. Going?"
"Smell's already pushed me a yard," responded Jack.
They climbed another hill, walking slowly and sleepily, and, as time
wore on, wandered through narrow lanes where the trees met overhead,
trod the wooden sidewalks of broad, open streets, or stopped on some
eminence to gaze off into the expanse of darkness.
"Midnight!"
Dave spoke the word as he stood, watch in hand, beneath a lamp which
flickered in the breeze and sent forth through a broken pane a strong
odor of coal-oil.
"If those chaps would only come!" sighed Sam.
Another half hour passed, then:
"Hello--there's the signal!" cried Dick Travers, excitedly.
Tired, sleepy feelings were as instantly swept away as though they had
been treated to a cold shower-bath. All came to a halt, listening
eagerly.
Another moment, and a peculiar call suggesting the hoot of an owl was
borne to their ears.
"Hooray," burst out Tim, "it's Bob and Tommy sure!"
Regardless of the sensation which might be caused in sleepy Wild Oak,
the five responded with tremendous effect.
An answer almost instantly followed the echoes of their lusty yells,
and joyously the crowd walked toward Cattle King Irwin's hotel, the
rendezvous agreed upon.
It was not long before a couple of shadowy figures appeared in view,
passing before the dim light thrown by a far-off lamp.
With a whoop, Tim darted forward, the others following close at his
heels.
They arrived panting, to find the envoys seated calmly on a door-step,
with a head gazing wonderingly down upon them from a second story
window.
"Well, well," cried Tim, breathlessly, "did you see Uncle Stanley?"
"We did not," answered Tom, wearily, "and for a very good reason, too;
eh, Bob?"
"Why--why--"
The chorus of questions was stilled by Bob Somers.
"It's this way," he said; "one of the steamers bound east stopped at
Rawdon this afternoon. We hunted up the agent, and he was sure, from
our description, that Mr. Lovell got aboard. So the whole--"
"Thing is still a mystery," finished Tom.
A gruff voice floated down from above.
"Go on now--get away from here with all that gab, or 'twon't be no
mystery what happens next."
A head thrust out of a window nodded vigorously.
"Oh!" cried Bob, looking up, somewhat startled.
"Where'd ye come from?"
"That's what they all ask. Beg your pardon, sir!"
"Beg your pardon, sir, also!" added Jack, with a grin.
Several other similarly polite remarks did not appease the wrath of the
man above, so they started off, quite oblivious to the words hurled
after them.
"Grouchy old gent!" murmured Jack.
"Never had such a walk before," Bob was saying. "Black as pitch;
couldn't even see the road. Tired? Well, just a bit. Found a place for
us to sleep, eh? That's great."
Tim's thoughts were running in another channel.
"See here, Bob," he asked, "what--what are we goin' to do about this
thing?"
"Do!" Bob squared his broad shoulders aggressively. "Why, there's only
one thing for us to do, Tim; and that is--" He waved his arm toward the
north.
And the others understood, and cheered.